I wanted to pull her close and hug her. To force that angry face into my chest and caress her back into soothing breaths.
Instead I clenched my jaw. “I was trying to find you, Snitch. I didn’t know what to do…you fucking disappeared.”
“Nobody would take on my case.” Tears brightened the fear in her eyes. “You left me no options. No choice.”
She shook her head, looking away at some distant threat I couldn’t see. With each word she spoke, my gut knotted tighter and tighter.
She was back.
She was safe.
So why did she keep talking like something horrible had happened?
“I made a mistake, Story. I shouldn’t have threatened you.”
What was that look on her face? She looked so fucking scared.
“I was scared. Stupid. Immature. Scared.” I gripped her hands in mine. “Shit, I don’t know how to love one person, let alone two. The idea of you leaving with our baby…” I took a breath. “I went crazy. I lost my mind. It’s not an excuse. Can you forgive me?”
Her eyes finally met mine, and I could see the tears she barely kept at bay. Sludge pumped from my heart. I was so fucking worthless.
I’d done this to her.
The mother of my child.
“I’ll never hurt you, Snitch. I would never do any of that. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Story…”
She was still so quiet. Saying so much with her eyes and yet none of it I could understand. I looked at her hands in mine, thumbed the fragile bones in her palm.
“Do you know I can count on my hand the number of times I’ve apologized?” I said quietly. “They’ve all been to you.”
“Grayson…” she said, eyes crinkled in pain. “It’s too late.”
“It’s not too late, Snitch. It’s not.” My chest filled with butterflies. I didn’t even know where to begin, how to make up for what I’d done.
We’re free. I did it. I’m doing it.
“I have to say, Gray,” West said. “I don’t particularly appreciate the way you’re touching my wife.”
My words died on my tongue. The next moments happened in slow motion. A hand slid around Story’s waist, drawing her from me, until her hands slipped from mine.
Wife. The word bounced around my brain like a rogue tennis ball, leaving bruises and damage in its wake.
West continued to speak, but I couldn’t hear anything past the rush of my own blood.
Vaguely, in the fuzzy perimeter, I saw Lottie’s cream heels approach, followed by her mother’s very similar ones, and my grandfather’s black soles.
Everyone was here, but all I could do was lift my eyes to Story’s, look for the lie I hoped to find in the truth.
“Your wife?” I finally said, interrupting whatever bullshit conversation had started.
“What?” Lottie’s soft voice. “What is going on?”
“Um…” Story trailed off.
My grandfather started to laugh.
This had to be some kind of fucking joke. Snitch was getting back at me.
“Is this a joke?” Mrs. du Lac asked, smile wavering. “You can’t be serious.”
“Calm down,” Mr. du Lac said, sounding bored.
“Calm down?”
“No joke,” West said. “It’s love.”
Story held out her left hand, where a sparkling diamond sat.
“Meet your new sister-in-law,” West said.
Nineteen
STORY
* * *
I wondered if Grayson could see the misery on my face as I leaned into Westley.
Everyone started talking over one another, but Grayson stared at my finger. A possessiveness in his stony blue eyes that radiated down the throbbing muscles in his neck.
“You.” Mrs. du Lac turned her ire to me. “First you ruin my daughter; now you turn your sights on my son? Have you no shame?”
She took a step to me, muscles tense. I lifted my shoulders, bracing my face for a slap.
“Mom!” Charlotte exclaimed, grabbing her mother’s shoulder at the same second Grayson stepped between us. Grayson acted as a wall, a barrier. Behind him, Lottie tried to calm her.
As the world collapsed around us, Grayson stared down at me from his ridged nose. The questions in his eyes throbbed like the anger in his jaw.
“You married him?” he said, so quietly it couldn’t be heard above the commotion.
“You married her first.”
Grayson was grabbed by Lottie and shoved in the direction of Mrs. du Lac. “Do something.”
Beryl Crowne was unlike the rest. He watched me quietly, with a look that sent shivers down my spine. Instinct had me wanting to look away. This was Beryl Crowne. You don’t look someone like him in the eyes if you’re someone like me.
His eye was darkening, like someone had just punched him, and all I could wonder was…who the hell had the balls to punch Beryl Crowne, a man known for disappearing anyone who slightly bothered him?
Though my heart pounded, I met his eyes. Instinctively I covered my stomach, and Beryl’s eyes went to that.
Grayson stepped in front of me again.
“I’m so sorry, Lynette,” Tansy said. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. I promise we’ll figure this out.” Except Tansy rolled her lips, obviously filled with joy.
Her number one threat had just been taken out by West.
“There’s nothing to figure out,” West said. “We’re married.”
Everyone flinched.
Tansy led Mrs. du Lac out of the foyer, Beryl following.
It was just me, West, Lottie, and Grayson.
“What is wrong with you?” Lottie all but breathed.
“Story and I have a history together, sis,” West said. “I’ve loved her since I was a teenager. We’re soulmates.”
My back itched when he said soulmate.
Lottie narrowed her eyes, but on me, not her brother. “I’ve never heard you mention her.”
I swallowed. “He…he was my first love.”
A stale silence passed.
Finally Gray spoke. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”
My eyes snapped to his, but the click-clack of Tansy’s heels drew all our attention away.
“Lynette is lying down before dinner,” she said. “All the excitement tired her out.”
“Of course,” West said. “I’ll be sure to check in on her some other time.” West’s grip tightened on my waist. Gray zeroed on that, the muscle in his jaw flexing again. He tilted his head, the muscle in his neck feathering.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Lottie asked.
“We were only coming to announce the good news.”
“Stay for dinner,” Lottie said, glaring at me. “I insist. I mean—” She turned to Tansy. “If that’s all right.”
“We’re heading to Asheville. Tonight. You know, it’s the honeymoon, sis.”
Gray flexed his fist until the knuckles whitened. I focused on anything else.
I had one condition when I married West du Lac: get me out of Crowne Point.
Away from Grayson Crowne.
Away from feelings I can’t control.
“Oh…you haven’t heard?” Lottie asked.
“Heard what?”
“It’s destroyed,” Gray supplied, voice like gravel.
“Destroyed?” I gasped.
His eyes snapped to mine. Lottie and West started talking about the events, but the voices faded as I faded into Gray’s blue eyes.
There was so much I wanted to say to him, but it was impossible with an audience. I tried to with my eyes. I was mad. Mad he’d pushed me into this. Mad I’d had no choice. Mad at myself for fucking doing this.
Mad he had the audacity to apologize.
He didn’t get to apologize.
Not when we were still living in the consequences.
Something like recognition flickered in his eyes, and his jaw feathered, with shame maybe, or anger more likely; then he looked
away.
“We’ve been dealing with it all morning,” Lottie said. “While you were apparently eloping.”
“I guess we’ll stay in another house.” West looked at me. “How do you feel about Europe?”
I’d only ever been to Europe with Grayson, and the memories rushed through me.
I’m going to mark you everywhere. Would you like that?
It was like Gray knew I was thinking about him, knew he was deep inside me. His blue eyes throbbed and pulsed, leaving me breathless.
I always thought engagement rings were a bit too ephemeral.
His bruise had faded, and now I had a shiny new stone…I covered my wedding band, heart cracking, and his gaze cut to the movement.
I quickly tore my eyes away, back to West. “I love Europe—”
“Don’t bother,” Gray cut me off, voice icy. “We can’t let family stay on the street. Isn’t that what you were saying?” He glanced at Lottie.
Silence oozed like sludge. Everyone hated the idea; it was clear in the stiff silence. The only person Gray watched was me.
“I don’t think we should impose,” I said.
“It’s not an imposition.”
I wasn’t going to stay at Crowne Hall after I just sold my soul to the devil to leave.
“Well, I appreciate the offer,” I said. “But I think Europe is more our speed anyway.” I hoped my icy tone said the words I really wanted to say.
Fuck.
You.
I’d rather eat glass than stay here.
I looked to West, waiting for him to agree, but then Grayson spoke.
“You know the press will have a field day with this. How do you plan on spinning it? The heir of Du Lac industries marries the Cinderella of Crowne Hall.”
Silence drifted as his words settled.
I wanted to scream.
Just let me fucking leave.
“I suppose a few weeks of press wouldn’t be the worst thing,” West said.
“But…” I trailed off.
I could feel the iron bars slamming shut behind me.
I won’t stay here.
I’ll disappear into the streets if I have to…and live like my mother did, I realized with nausea.
West looked at me. “Let’s just go to Europe, Angel. We’ll deal with the press.”
The point was to get away and eventually disappear. West was a means to an end, not the end.
“A few more weeks here and then they won’t care?” I looked into West’s eyes, ignoring the anger emanating from Grayson. Ignoring the way his muscles tightened when West leaned down and thumbed my cheek.
“They’ll forget we ever existed.”
That’s what I wanted. I could do a few more weeks.
I’d done years.
“Well…” Lottie finally spoke. “I suppose.”
“I don’t know, Grayson,” Tansy said. “Europe seems—”
“It’s decided,” Grayson said, cutting her off. “You’ll move in with us. It’s the least we can do for family.”
GRAY
* * *
Everyone left to gather in the great hall to eat—mother making sure to give me a look, letting me know this wasn’t over, that she’d be back for her pound of flesh. Grandfather lingered.
Then laughed.
And laughed.
Until the dark, booming sound echoed off the domed ceiling.
Then it died, and the silence was magnified.
“Is this everything you dreamed it would be, Grayson?” he asked.
I swallowed the emotion in my throat.
“Is this how you pictured it?” My grandfather threw out his hands. “She played you, you fucking idiot. They all played you.” Grandpa laughed bitterly. “Oh, but it was so romantic. So fucking romantic to sign away our company to her husband’s sister. You blew up your world for her, and look what she did? Married a du Lac.”
He wore his black eye proudly, the same way he wore the smug I told you so curving his lips. For once, I’d had the upper hand. He’d fallen for my bluff…and it didn’t fucking matter.
The harder I fight for us, the more I put Story in danger. I got married to save her—and in the end forced her into a marriage to save her from me.
This hell was too beautifully designed not to be fate.
“Are you fucking crying?”
My grandpa gripped my chin, dragging my face to his to examine my eyes. I wasn’t crying. I didn’t cry. He’d made sure of that years ago, but I was sure my eyes were red with years of unshed emotion.
We were so close. We could have left this world. Disappeared into normalcy. Got a fucking house in Wisconsin or something. I don’t know.
Fate. Fucking fate.
I stared my grandfather back in his red-brown eyes, giving him nothing.
“You were always so weak,” he said, digging his thumb into my chin.
My lips broke with a smile. A Grayson Crowne smile, Snitch would say. His brow furrowed for a split second. Then he slapped me so hard my ears rang.
I worked out my jaw. “You’ve gotten weaker, old man.”
I shot him another smile, pushing my tongue against my back tooth. He exhaled, like what he’d had to do was a burden.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You don’t tell anyone about that document. You rip it up. You rip up any other copies. You destroy the files. And you grovel to your wife. Then we act like this never happened, and you keep your cock in your pants. I am not about to watch everything I built crumble to ash.”
Grandfather started to walk away.
“And then you kill her,” I said. “Oh, sorry, she has a tragic accident.”
He paused.
“I think I’ll keep those files, Grandpa,” I lied. “If anything happens to Story, I’ll have nothing left to lose anyway. Keep that in mind if you’re ever in the position to book her a car. I think you would have the most to lose if it tragically crashed.”
He lingered by the column a moment longer, head slightly turned, then smiled. “You can’t have her, Grayson. Not even as a fucking mistress. If you do, you’ll lose everything, and lose her in the process. Don’t forget yourself. The only thing keeping her alive is the one thing keeping you apart.” He kept walking, laughing as he said to himself, “Not like his father…”
Twenty
STORY
* * *
We were having some kind of braised small bird. Probably Cornish game hen. Conversation had been stuttering and light. I was seated down the table from West—my new husband—and I knew that wasn’t by accident.
They isolated me across from Gemma, and next to Lottie.
No sign of Beryl.
A stabbing, swift thought pierced me: Grayson would never have let me eat alone. Especially if I were his newly wed. It didn’t matter that Tansy Crowne had insisted upon it under the pretense of girl bonding.
“Is it weird being served when just yesterday you were the one doling out the dishes?” Gemma asked lightly. She rested her soft, pretty chin on a manicured hand as she waited for my response.
I clenched my fork. It was dirty, I noted, while all the others were polished.
I briefly looked around to see if I could spot the servants. I hadn’t banked on living here. The point was to get out. That was why I’d tried sneaking in.
Still, it was an improvement. I had the full force of the du Lac family in my corner. Or…I was supposed to.
Slowly, I lifted my eyes, meeting Gemma’s. “I actually haven’t worked in the kitchen in years.”
I kept her stare so she knew meeting her eyes was no mistake.
Her smirk wavered, and she looked away.
I took the moment to lower my fork to my lap, rubbing it in my cloth napkin, getting rid of the crusted food.
“Should we toast the newlyweds?” Mrs. du Lac said, raising her champagne. She was in the middle of the table, across from me. It was the first thing she’d said since we sat down, though her icy, composed glare had barely left
my face.
“It’s so sudden,” she continued. “So romantic.”
“Could I get a glass of ginger ale instead of champagne? My stomach is bothering me…” Charlotte said so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
“I’ve always been a romantic, Mom,” West said with a laugh.
Her eyes briefly flashed to his. “Mmm.” Her attention turned back to mine. “I just thought you were the Cinderella of Crowne Hall.”
“Mom!” Charlotte gasped like she’d been punched.
I stared at my untouched bird.
“A toast to the Cinderella of Du Lac Manor, then,” Mrs. Du Lac said. I lifted my eyes, finding hers. “May she…” Mrs. du Lac trailed off, thinking, and my gut tightened in anticipation. “May she always get home on time.”
A soft smile drifted across her lips, eyes sharp. I smiled back, refusing to show how her toast had hurt.
I lifted my glass, noting the smudged lipstick, when Grayson’s voice drifted down the table. “Should you be drinking that?”
I froze, panic thundering in my breast. I mentally ran through any response I could give that wouldn’t sound suspicious, trying to keep my face neutral. Had he lost his fucking mind?
“It’s water,” I eventually rasped. “So.”
“Well, um, no wine for me either,” Lottie added. “Since we’re trying for a baby and all.”
I choked on my water, teary eyes flashing up to his. Trying for a baby? Lottie and Grayson were trying for a baby?
Grayson choked on his spit.
“That’s wonderful news,” both Mrs. du Lac and Tansy said at the same time.
I stood up so fast my chair nearly toppled, and all eyes came to me.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to…I need to pee.”
Soft laughter followed me out of the room. I was probably supposed to say something like powder my nose, but whatever.
Trying for a baby.
I dragged my hands down my face as I pushed the swinging double doors open to the kitchen. A small voice in my head said, You’re not supposed to go here anymore. But the louder one said trying for a baby.
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