Dirty Law

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  Especially don’t torment the Reject.

  Even if she is a spoiled brat.

  So when an opportunity presents itself to punish her, you definitely shouldn’t take it.

  Then again, Abigail loves to be tortured, and I’ve waited patiently for revenge.

  I’ll keep her safe... with cruel protection.

  Love is off limits with Abigail Crowne, but no one said anything about hate.

  ABIGAIL

  * * *

  My head pounded as I dragged my feet through the gate. Carrying my strappy Jimmy Choos, I walked alone past towering wrought iron, along cobblestone and perfectly trimmed emerald-green hedges, past crystal-blue fountains and dower-faced guards. They didn’t look at me, but I felt their stares all the same.

  I’d lost my bodyguard. Again.

  I’d been caught by the press. Again.

  “You’re in so much shit.”

  My older sister, Gemma, leaned against pretty white embellished walls, a cup of tea in her hands. When she saw me, she came forward, like she’d been waiting. I wouldn’t doubt it.

  “I think I heard Mom say the words ‘complete disappointment.’” A smile curved her red lips just as a laugh echoed through the great halls.

  Grayson, my brother.

  “No, it was ‘utterly hopeless,’” he added. “The word ‘nunnery’ was also tossed around.” Gemma joined in his laughter, and I fought the urge to throw my strappy heels at their heads.

  Both my siblings were tall and shared my mother and father’s iconic blond hair. It looked like spun rose gold. I, on the other hand, was barely five foot five, and had my great-grandmother’s hair, so brown it was almost black—just so it was obvious I was the black sheep.

  “Where is she?”

  “Take a wild guess,” Gemma said.

  I swallowed my grimace, walking in the direction as my siblings followed after me, eager to watch what was about to unfold.

  My mother, Tansy, loved her tea and cupcakes almost as much as she loved doling out my punishments. Most days she could be found in the sunroom, overlooking three miles of gardens, blue skies, and Atlantic Ocean.

  Outside the sunroom, I knocked lightly with a sigh. “Mom—”

  I stopped short, locked on the figure at the end of our pearly hallway. It had been years since I’d seen him, but I’d recognize his piercing green eyes anywhere.

  Theo Hound.

  “Abigail?” my mother’s lilting voice called.

  I blinked, and he was gone. I must have seen wrong. That person was on the opposite side of the country, in California guarding my grandfather.

  “Hello, Mother,” I said, coming into the room. I took my usual place before her feet, the midafternoon sun warm against my back. My siblings went to stand by my mother, both resting their hands on the curling back of her sateen chaise, as if really wanting to rub in how apart from them I was.

  Mother placed the book she’d been reading on a table adorned with tea and cookies to her left, starting in on her usual censure. She wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed. She both expected this and expected better.

  “What is it?” I asked, holding back a sigh. “Am I under house arrest? Are you taking away my allowance? Or maybe denying me dinner?” Those were her usual go-tos. None of them explained the growing smiles on my siblings’ faces.

  “We’ve assigned you a new guard. This is not like the others you’ve ditched. This man is not there to protect you, this man is to watch your every movement and keep our reputation safe.”

  My gut dropped. The Crowne Guard was filled with sycophants who had their noses far up my siblings’ and mom’s assholes. I didn’t have one friend on it. I did have one enemy, but surely they wouldn’t choose him. My mother had always hated Theo, and she’d practically rejoiced when he left. She would never choose him to guard me twenty-four seven.

  “So what?” I asked. “He’s going to follow me around?”

  Mother nodded. “Twenty-four seven.”

  “A male guard?” I nearly gasped. “But surely not at night.”

  “Twenty-four seven,” she repeated. “We’ve redone your en suite into a room.”

  “That’s not proper,” I stammered. “Rumors will spread. People will think things.” People already thought them. I’d been branded a slut since Rosey, our boarding school, years ago.

  Screw the fact I was still almost a virgin, right?

  Mom tossed magazine after magazine at my feet. The one where they’d caught me getting out of a limo with my legs—and no panties. The one where I was topless on the yacht, making out with an Oscar winner. The one where I was lip-locked with Hollywood’s it girl and guy.

  I said almost.

  “Rumors?” She arched a brow, then continued unperturbed. “This will be the least scandalous thing you’ve done. Believe me when I say he was not my first choice,” my mother said, almost bitterly. “Despite my objections, your grandfather is resolute.”

  Now I was even more confused. Who had been chosen to watch me? What man could have my mother so bitter, yet be in such good graces with my grandfather?

  “Grayson is on the cover of more tabloids than me,” I tried desperately. I don’t know why I even bothered. The bar was always placed on the floor for Gray.

  My gaze kept drifting back to the door, beyond my sibling peanut gallery. Had I seen him? I didn’t know anyone else who somehow both stood out of, and blended into, the shadows.

  “Abigail!” my mother snapped, and I quickly looked at her. Only I could make my mother snap. I took perverse satisfaction in that; it was the only attention she afforded me, after all. “Did you hear a word I said?”

  “Doubt it,” Grayson said. “She’s still standing.”

  I glared at my brother in the doorway. My siblings and I were so close in age. Gray was just a year older than me at twenty-two, and Gemma the eldest at almost twenty-three, yet we couldn’t be further apart. Both he and my sister watched me, twisted smiles on their faces. Watching our mom torture me was one of their favorite forms of amusement.

  “Grayson isn’t going to marry the son of a man whose company your grandfather has been courting for over three years.”

  Everything came to a crashing halt.

  I wish I’d heard her wrong, but I knew I hadn’t. I’d known this day was coming for as long as I could remember. You don’t get to be me and not have this day. My sister’s day had come in boarding school. My brother’s would come soon as well. I darted my eyes between my siblings and back to my mother, a sinking feeling growing.

  “You’re marrying me off?” I took a step back. “When? To who? Have I even met him?”

  My mom waved her hand as if what I’d said was trivial. “Before the end of the summer.”

  “This summer?” At my distressed face, behind our mother’s back, Gemma pushed out her bottom lip, pretending to pout for me.

  “Fuck off, Gemma,” I said.

  Gemma clutched her heart. “Mother, do you see how she speaks to me?” Behind our mother’s back she mouthed fuck you and gave me the bird.

  “Enough,” my mother said without heat. “This shouldn’t be news to you, Abigail. Your grandfather has been working on this trade for years.”

  “Yes, but—” I started, only to be cut off.

  “We can’t afford your little…dalliances…ruining it.”

  Gemma laughed. “That’s a nice way to look at them.”

  “But—”

  “We’re done talking about this, Abigail,” Mom said. “Why don’t you try following your sister’s example for once? She handles her engagement with grace.”

  “And if I say no?” I tested.

  My mother sipped her tea, my question not worth a response. Since Father’s death years ago, Crowne Industries had been untenable. Never mind what happened to our family—our father had been the glue holding an already dysfunctional unit together—the company was always the most important.

  On the surface, we were billionaires w
ho had it all. Beneath that veneer, we were barely sustained by my ruthless grandfather Beryl Crowne and my narcissistic mother, Tansy. We stayed afloat, because we did what they said.

  Whatever they said—anything so we didn’t lose the crown, or Crowne, I should say.

  I knew what would happen if I disobeyed. I’d end up like my uncle, the cautionary tale in our family for what happened when you disobeyed: penniless and excommunicated.

  Over mother’s back, Gray blew me a kiss.

  I ground my teeth. “I won’t disappoint you, Mother.”

  Mom didn’t even bother hiding her incredulous laugh. Without another word, she went back to her book. Our conversation was over.

  Maybe if I was someone else, I would’ve told Mom to screw off. It didn’t go over my head that she hadn’t even bothered to tell me whom I was marrying.

  I wish I didn’t want my mother’s approval, but it was the one thing I wanted most in the world, and there were days I would do anything to get it. On those days, I tended to disappoint her most.

  I watched her a moment longer, playing the conversation I wished would happen in my head.

  I’m sorry, Mom.

  That’s okay, because I love you, Abigail. No matter what you do, I will always love you.

  After I’d stood there too long, Mother waved a hand for me to go.

  I stopped just before the huge portrait of my father, Charles Crowne. He’d had a hard, square jaw and arresting reddish-brown eyes, and in certain lights, they looked purple. His eyes were the only thing I received from him, the only hint I might be a Crowne. He’d been gone for so long this was how I remembered him, in paintings and pictures.

  “God, that was so much more satisfying than I imagined,” Gemma said to my back. “I think I came.”

  “Oh, eat a dick, Gemma.”

  “I would, Abby, but you’ve already gotten to them all. You’re the Pac-Man of dicks.”

  It doesn’t count if it happens in Crowne Hall.

  I spun around and raised my hand to throw one of my heels at Gemma’s head, but my hand froze midair, captive in someone’s grasp. When I looked over my shoulder, my knees buckled, and I nearly fell.

  Theo.

  Theo held me up by my wrist, unperturbed by the sudden weakness in my legs. I had questions…a lot of questions. Almost five years had passed since I’d last seen him in person. I’d seen pictures of him, but only in tabloids, and always in the back behind my grandfather, out of focused or cropped. Grandpa rarely visited our town of Crowne Point—and even more rarely so our home, Crowne Hall—which meant I never saw Theo.

  Never saw the boy I’d saved.

  The boy I’d loved.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to yank my hand out.

  He wouldn’t look at me.

  It was a rule all servants and bodyguards followed, but it had never been one Theo had obeyed. Not with me.

  He’d grown into his features, his jaw now square and hardened. His cheekbones so sharp they were almost hollowed. Thick, silky, lustrous brown hair fell over hazel-green eyes so clear they were like gemstones.

  He was in a suit too.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Theo in a suit. It was tailored perfectly to his tall, lean muscular build.

  “Your poor bodyguard is already having to save your ass,” Gemma said.

  “My—my what?” I stammered.

  He still hadn’t released me, the blood draining beneath his touch.

  Heat rose to my cheeks. I tried not to think about how it was Theo touching me and instead attempted to pull my arm from him. He held tight, fingers bruising.

  I was above him. I shouldn’t be thinking about the delicious, spicy way he smelled, or his calloused touch. Did his voice still catch on a growl?

  “You’re my bodyguard?” It came out on a whisper. “Why?”

  But then Gemma laughed, Theo’s gaze snapped to her like a magnet, and I knew.

  “Have fun with your new personal babysitter.” Gemma waved airy fingers over her shoulder, her laugh disappearing down the polished halls.

  All at once he dropped me.

  The heels I still carried clacked to the floor.

  It was just me and Theo, alone.

  I peeled my eyes from my manicured fingers.

  Theo was watching me. I sucked in a breath. If I said something, I could get him fired. I was drawn to him, though. He looked at me with nothing in his crystal-clear green eyes save callousness. I picked at my blush nail polish, staring right back.

  “Are you really my new guard?”

  Aren’t there easier ways for him to get closer to Gemma? I wanted to ask.

  Less… painful ways? For me.

  The grandfather clock ticked away a full minute as I waited for him to respond. In the end, I caved.

  “Are you back for me?” My words slid out as a confession.

  Are you finally back?

  He arched a dark, impassive brow. “What do you think?”

  It wasn’t necessarily a no, but the way it was spoken made it clear it wasn’t a yes.

  I’d waited years for Theo.

  Five years I’d waited for a word from him, five years I’d yearned and tried to hate him, and only ended up hating myself.

  In the end, this was how he came back, with more betrayal.

  Down the hall paparazzi were being shuffled in by staff, getting ready for Gemma’s birthday party, one of the bigger parties this summer. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be in Crowne Hall, and I chewed my bottom lip.

  Theo’s eyes narrowed on my lip right before I lunged at him, pressing my lips to his. Theo was stone beneath me, just like he’d been the night I’d kissed him, the night before he left.

  He shoved me off, and I stumbled back.

  Hurt ricocheted inside my ribs.

  “I love when you tell me how hard you’re going to fuck me,” I yelled, eyeing the paparazzi.

  Our eyes locked, the flashing of cameras reflecting in his glare, and then Theo gripped my wrist, yanking me out of their view into the ornate hall. I let him tug me down the hallway, our footsteps echoing.

  The exterior of Crowne Hall was famous for its inky black shingles and castle-like spires; inside it was pearly white with gold trim. It was a darkly romantic aesthetic, black railings and white, matte walls with intricately cut molding, the occasional gilded accoutrement, and the inescapable smell of salt air.

  “Grandpa will fire you when he sees the photos,” I said with a smile, masking my hurt in triumph.

  I couldn’t let him know how much power he still had.

  Theo drew his thumb across his lush bottom lip, dragging it out in a distracting way, before ending on an exhale.

  “Spoiled little princess… you know better. House paparazzi don’t publish anything without written approval.”

  Hurt welled in my chest.

  Where was my Theo? Did he ever exist? This heavy-lidded, gaunt, square-jawed imposter was just like everyone else now, seeing only my scars.

  His pale eyes narrowed. “You have a party to get ready for, Ms. Crowne.”

  He said my name with such venom it slid inside my blood and burned; then he grabbed my arm, tugging me toward my wing.

  Gemma’s birthday party had been planned months before, but I couldn’t help but wonder, Would I meet my fiancé tonight?

  “I can—” I yanked myself free. “I can walk.”

  My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and his eyes dropped to the movement before sliding back up my neck. There was no heat in his gaze, just ice, and it burned in a different, more painful way. He raised a brow, slightly tilting his head toward the wing. I summoned all of my imperial, God-given Crowne right to raise my chin, and I walked past him.

  Even though everything in me wanted to crumble.

  Especially as I felt him behind me, like a hot, heavy shadow.

  Theo Hound wasn’t like the other bodyguards in my grandfather’s employ. Once upon a time, he was mine. We were just teenager
s then, but I found Theo. I kept Theo. I almost gave him my heart, but like everyone else, he chose my sister.

  If you love bully, bodyguard , enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, revenge, and second chance romance, you need Heartless Hero. This story bled from me! Click the title and find out why this story had me labeled “an emotional terrorist.”

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  Books by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  Crowne Point Universe (standalone)

  Heartless Hero

  Stolen Soulmate—available for preorder now!

  Gemma and Grim’s book (2020)

  * * *

  The Hate Story Duet

  Beast: A Hate Story, The Beginning (FREE!)

  Beauty: A Hate Story, The End

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  Standalones

  Dirty Law

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  Owned Series

  You Own Me (Owned #1)

  Let Me Go (Owned #2)

  Tied (Owned #2.5)

  Come To Me (Owned #3)

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  Patchwork House

  Skater Boy (Patchwork House #1)

  Patchwork House #2

  Patchwork House #3

  Patchwork House #4

  www.PatchworkHouseSeries.com

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