Page 8 of The Tycoon (The Douglas Brothers #1)

sutton

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this annoyed at someone.

Not necessarily with Dolly mind you; although she will most certainly be getting a tongue lashing when I see her.

No, my annoyance lies with the disrespectful son-of-a-bitch sitting at the table in the front of the cafe.

The one currently getting the number of the waitress while my Princess hides in the restroom.

He’s lucky that we’re in a crowded restaurant.

My interaction with him will have to be civil.

It’s taking all my willpower to not walk over to him and sucker punch him in the throat.

I can almost guarantee that the cocksucker has never been in an actual fight, taking him down would be too easy.

That will have to wait for another time, though.

I shouldn’t get into a physical altercation on the Lord’s Day.

Clenching my jaw, my narrow eyes glance to the phone in my hand as it vibrates. It’s another text from my Dolly.

Nodding my head, I ease the nagging tension harbored in my body. I’m pleased that she answered me as she should have. I know I’ve said this before, but it truly is rare to find someone so naturally submissive. I suppose I shouldn’t be too shocked, though. God made her specifically for me.

Not needing to reply, I wait patiently for her to exit the restroom.

Making good on her word, she emerges a few seconds later.

Tipping my chin downward, I purposefully cover my face with the bill of my Yetis hat, so she doesn’t recognize me.

Though if she did look my way, she might wonder why I was wearing a rival hockey team’s hat in Stars country.

This is the only time I will ever be thankful she has more alcohol in her system than she should.

It helps distract her as she heads straight over to her dumbass roommate.

I boldly lift my gaze and watch as the busty waitress sheepishly steps away.

Standing next to Sam, Dolly bends down and says something close to his ear.

His face morphs from one emotion to the next as he listens: first surprise, next confusion, and then finally irritation.

He starts to say something back, but she silences him with a shake of her head.

He tries yet again, attempting to reach for her hand this time.

She moves out of his greedy reach just before he can capture it.

I watch her mouth as she speaks, but her lips move so quickly that I can’t make out her words for the life of me.

Whatever she says must be cutting, as it causes his entire body to freeze.

A defeated look passes over his masculine features; he nods once and watches in livid disbelief as she leaves the cafe. I can’t help but grin at his vexation. It must be killing him that he wasn’t able to charm her like he probably does the other women that get caught in his trap.

Poor douchebag.

Toggling my gaze from Sam to my phone, a tiny wave of relief falls over me as I receive a notification from the Uber driver.

Dolly has entered his vehicle and should arrive home safely within the next twenty minutes.

I hate that I had to use that particular driving service, but I wasn’t expecting her to be downing alcohol at eleven forty-five in the morning.

There is no way I could allow her to drive herself home.

Why didn’t I drive her myself, you ask? Well, it was never my intention to alert her to the fact that I followed her to brunch.

I merely wanted to observe her in a relaxed environment, to learn her habits as every good hunter does.

True, the gentlemanly thing would have been for me to have driven her home, but then I wouldn’t have the chance to have a little chat with Sam.

Standing from my bistro chair, I casually step over to the sulking gym rat.

Focused only on the phone in his hand, he doesn’t pay me any mind as I make my way towards Dolly’s empty chair.

His fingers glide over the glass with lightning speed, typing a series of angry words.

I notice the picture of my girl on the top of his screen as I purposefully brush into his personal space.

This motherfucker.

Pushing out a sigh, I yank out the chair opposite him and take a seat.

Hardening my features, I keep my body language rigid as I lean my torso in.

Preoccupied with his one-sided text exchange, he doesn’t realize that I’m a mere two feet away from him.

It isn’t until I growl in abject annoyance that he pulls his eyes away from his phone’s screen.

“Uh, excuse me? Why the fuck are you sitting at my table?” he asks, his tone thick with attitude.

Anger flashes behind his eyes as he stares at me, but it’s nowhere near the simmering rage that’s behind mine. I can almost feel the snap of his skin on my knuckles as I slam my fist into his cheekbone. It sends the smallest shivers to race down my spine.

“I’m only going to say this once, I need you to listen,” I begin, lowering my voice so that only he can hear. “You are to never text, call, speak, or see Dolly Dixon ever again.”

Huffing a laugh, amusement peppers his features. Straightening his posture, he squares his shoulders in a pathetic display of machismo. I keep my expression sharp, but inside I’m laughing alongside him. The little cocksucker doesn’t see me as a threat. He will though, soon enough.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you to tell me I can’t see Dolly?”

Not immediately replying, I allow his question to marinate in his tiny, underdeveloped brain. It takes him a couple of seconds, but finally his face brightens with the look of recognition.

“Ohh...you’re Sutton fucking Douglas,” he says, wagging his index finger at me. “You know, I should be saying the same thing to you!”

Leaning in towards me, he pulls his lips back into a sneer.

“You might be richer than Jesus, and that might impress Dolly, but I don’t give a fuck! I will kick your pretty boy ass! Dolly is mine, she always has been! You will stay away from her, got it?” he hisses.

Clenching my jaw, the outside corner of my left eye ticks. Pent up rage settles into the pit of my stomach as I silently seethe. I know I can’t kill him, not yet at least, but I will tear that smirk from his face. Keeping my voice low, I hiss an ominous command.

“Get up from your seat and walk to the alley behind the cafe,” I order.

Nodding his head, the little punk all but launches from his seat.

He has too much testosterone and cheap champagne running through his veins for his own good.

They’re dulling the parts of his brain that should be warning him not to listen to me.

It’s not fair of me to take advantage of his inebriation, but I’m not a fair man.

“Fine! Let’s go, motherfucker!”

Jumping in place, he flings his arms like he's a goddamn baboon. I hate that he’s making a scene, but now I’m fired up. My lawyer and publicist can take care of any negative social media posts that will come my way.

Standing from my seat, I point to the door.

Pressing my lips into a fine line, I stare at him as he turns on his heels and stomps out of the restaurant.

His movements are sloppy and unsure, causing him to stumble as he crosses the threshold onto the sidewalk.

I should leave and head straight to Dolly’s apartment, but I am beyond giving a fuck.

Quickly glancing around the restaurant, I take note of how many patrons have a cell phone in their hand.

Eight in plain sight. While not a fantastic number, it shouldn’t take much to scrub any videos or pictures that are being taken.

Sam is correct in that I do have more money than Jesus, and after I beat him into a bloody pulp, I will use my money to ruin the rest of his miserable life.

Following the dumbass, I stalk out of the cafe and round the corner. Balling my hands into tight fists, I make my way into the narrow alley.

Turning to face me, Sam puffs out his chest and takes a wobbly step towards me. Standing my ground, I let him make the first move. It’s always safer for me legally when they attack first.

“I’m gonna kill you, fucker!” he yells.

Raising his fist, he pulls back and lets go without any semblance of a plan. Swinging wide and loose, he somehow contacts the edge of my jaw. While not powerful in the least, it stings just enough to royally piss me off.

Pulling my lips back into a snarl, I bristle with aggression. Lifting my steady fist, I throw a right hook that makes full contact with his cheekbone. Just as I imagined, his skin splits beautifully under my knuckles, causing a wound that will most undoubtedly require stitches.

Letting out a pained yelp, Sam’s shaky legs force him to take a step back. He tries to right himself, but the alcohol is doing its job. Screaming out an obscenity, he starts swinging like a prepubescent boy experiencing his first schoolyard fight.

Dodging his weak punches, I can’t help but chuckle. His face turns just as scarlet as the blood dripping from his cheek, the look of pure hatred burning behind his brown eyes. Wild and angry, he continues to swing without rhyme or reason in the hopes that at least one will land.

Sidestepping as he stumbles forward, my laugh echoes off the brick walls in the alley as he falls to his knees.

I could end this here and now, but the asshole needs to learn his lesson.

Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, I pick him up and throw him against the wall.

Slamming against the unforgiving stone, he somehow manages to get his legs under himself.

Spinning around to face me, he presses his back against the wall to keep himself upright.

“Dude! What the fuck!” he squeaks, his voice rough with fear.

Growling low, my left-hand grabs onto his athletic tee.

Twisting my hold into the quick dry fabric, I raise my fist once again and land two more rapid punches to his face as hard as I can.

One hit cracks into his square jaw, the other bashes his temple.

Each punch slams the back of his head into the brick behind him, only exacerbating his injuries.

He blinks at me dazed and confused while his brain registers the acute pain.

Pulling my fist back once again, I pause when I notice the light behind his eyes begin to dim.

A disgusting sound leaves his mouth, something that resembles the melding of a wet moan and a thick gurgle.

His eyelids flutter down, and his body goes sickly limp, signaling my laughable triumph.

I should be pleased that our scuffle didn’t last long enough to cause a ruckus, but it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I haven’t even begun to teach my lesson and the chickenshit has lost consciousness.

Hissing under my breath, I release my grip on him and let him fall to the dirty asphalt.

Breathing hard, I allow myself a moment to savor the adrenaline spiking through my veins.

While it’s nothing like the high of extinguishing someone’s flame, I must admit, it does feel good. Even if it’s from a cheap win.

Bending down next to his slumped body, my hand digs into the pocket of his shorts for his phone. Grabbing the slim cell, I stand back to full height and give it a quick look. My eyes focus on a single text flashing over the screen.

Lifting my lips into a smile, I reread Dolly’s words for a second time. I’m relieved that she doesn’t share the same feelings for Sam as he does for her, it will make things easier in the end. I know this douchebag will pull something stupid, and when he does, I’ll snuff out his fire for good.

“That’s my girl,” I say to myself as I throw the phone against the brick, smashing the cheap electronic into a dozen, tiny pieces.