Forbidden Fate

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  Even if I had to burn everything to the ground.

  Forty-Six

  STORY

  * * *

  When the door pushed open later that night, I knew it was Grayson.

  “Come with me, Snitch. No games. It’s snowing and we haven’t visited Woodsy.”

  “It’s midnight...”

  But I was already getting out of bed.

  We walked through the shadowy hallways of Crowne Hall, out into the gardens where Uncle was laid to rest. Grayson laid his jacket on a snow-dusted bench for me, and we stared at my uncle’s mausoleum as the snow fell.

  Around us, poems were etched in the granite tombs. Up the walls, beneath the names, some mournful, others joyful.

  “Woodsy and I used to come out here a lot,” Grayson said.

  “It feels emptier without him,” I said.

  “Yeah.”

  Grayson pulled my hand into his.

  I wanted a world where I could hold his hand.

  In public.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  He craned his neck slightly, the sharp ninety-degree angle of his jaw and the slope of his plump lips catching the moonlight.

  “About how much damage I’ve done to my family.”

  “Grayson, you care about family more than anyone. You would never do anything to hurt them.”

  A look flitted across his eyes.

  Hurt.

  Pain.

  Why? Thorns were back around his heart, and I couldn’t get inside…But then, they were around mine too. Silence was soft as the falling snow.

  “You said you wanted to leave Crowne Point. Is that still true?” He thumbed the bones on my palm.

  I swallowed hard. “West gave me a plane ticket.”

  He tensed but said nothing.

  “I should probably want to leave this world. It’s never been kind to me. Now everyone knows my name and they gossip about me.”

  Grayson continued to thumb the bones in my hand, something on his mind he wouldn’t let me read.

  “You really haven’t slept with her?” I asked quietly. I’d spent these months distrusting everything about him.

  He shook his head.

  “But you said. You said you fucked her. She sucked you off.”

  “I lied.”

  “Why would you lie to me about that?”

  “I thought if you hated me…it would be easier.”

  I could feel the pain in his words, and it tugged the wire around my heart.

  He leaned forward, brushing the snowflakes out of my hair

  “Why are you acting like it’s the end? That look in your eyes always means you’re about to do something bad.”

  “You know me so well, Snitch.”

  I think I know him best of anyone.

  The look in his eyes was too intense; he was too close. I knew I should shrug out of his touch, but I leaned closer until I could taste the sugar on his lips.

  “Would you want to be with me if I wasn’t Grayson Crowne?” he asked.

  “I told you…Grayson Crowne is my least favorite thing about you.”

  “Tell me more about what you’d need for a happily ever after,” he demanded.

  The wounded part that still hadn’t healed from all the times he’d abandoned me said to lie or move away, but my heart was beating from the way he watched me.

  “Fight for me! I asked for it in the hospital and you never did.”

  “I am fucking fighting for you. That’s all I’ve been doing since the day you slammed into my goddamn lips.”

  I rolled my eyes before I could stop it, turning away—he gripped my shoulders, yanking me back with violence.

  “Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t fucking leave, Snitch. Keep going.”

  “I want you to care! I want it to tear you up inside the way it does me whenever I see her on your arm.”

  “You think it doesn’t?”

  I shrugged in his grip.

  “I’m barely holding it together, Snitch. Every time he even looks at you, I want to punch his face to the floor and drag you to me.” He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me until I was flush against his side.

  “Fuck you.” His lips were a deep growl against my ear. “Kiss you.” Soft now, coaxing on my earlobe. “Mark you.” His teeth grazed my ear. “Let the world know you’re mine.”

  I swallowed a breath, fighting the tingles between my thighs, the urge to fist my hands in his shirt. He pulled back, suddenly serious.

  “But I tied this knot. I made this bed. I’ll get us out of it. No more stains on our souls.”

  I looked away, anywhere but him. “It’s too late, Grayson.”

  “It’s never too late, little nun. I’m going to build us that happily ever after, even if it takes until we’re ninety. I know you don’t trust me anymore…but I’m going to fix this.”

  My chest cracked with the desire to believe him, but I’d already done that. So many times I’d fallen into his beautiful lies. I wouldn’t do it again.

  “You…” I swallowed, tried to blink out of the heat rising up my chest. “You don’t get to just decide you want me again and everything is perfect. Things are different. I’m married—”

  “So fucking what? Do you fucking love him?”

  “I don’t know! He’s offering me forever, and all you’ve ever done is offer me…promises of a future that break in my hands. He married me, Grayson. And you married her.”

  “You have no idea what I’ve been doing. What I’ve done. What I will continue to do for you.”

  “Then tell me. Don’t keep me in the dark any longer. Don’t lie. If you lie to me again—”

  “Tomorrow I’m forcing my grandfather’s hand.”

  Tomorrow.

  That sounded too good to be true.

  Suspiciously like a happily ever after.

  “How?” I didn’t like how he was speaking, the darkness in his eyes. “Grayson, how?”

  He looked away. “I don’t want to lie to you again, little nun. But I know if I tell you, you’ll try and stop me.”

  Panic crawled up my chest. “Then don’t do it.”

  He gripped my cheeks between his palms. “I’m not letting you go anymore. You can’t stop me. I’ll marry you, Snitch. We’ll finally be free to love and start our family in the way we’ve always dreamed.”

  “I-I…” I stuttered, frozen between needing that dream to come true, and being deathly afraid of whatever Grayson was about to do. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  “Run away with me, Snitch. Be my wife. Be mine.”

  “I can—”

  “Don’t say you can’t.”

  Grayson crashed his lips against mine.

  The snow froze in the air, the world melted away, and all I knew were his lips. He tangled his hands into my hair, pulling me closer.

  We’d been denying it for so long and giving in was stardust in my veins. His groan was whiskey down my throat, rough and sweet. His grip was iron, and I could feel the restraint even as he dragged me closer.

  I sighed into his mouth. “More.”

  I felt the faintest quirk of his lips against mine.

  A smile.

  He slanted his mouth, diving deeper, giving me more. More tongue. More teeth. More Grayson. Before I realized it, my hands were fisted in his rose gold hair, my thigh across his. He pulled back, a dark, needful look in his eyes, as though he was two seconds from laying me flat to the bench.

  “You are it for me,” he said roughly. “You will always be it for me, Story Hale.”

  “How do you know? How do you know we’re not just bad? I’m…” I’m kissing another man…in love with another man… “I’m a terrible wife. Maybe we would be bad together.”

  “All I’ve done with Lottie since day one is fuck up my marriage. I’m the worst husband. But I know I would be great to you. I know I would, Snitch.”

  “Maybe we’re just bad people,” I whispered.

  “You would be the be
st wife, Snitch.”

  “How do you know?”

  His eyes dropped to my lips, jaw tight.

  “Because I wouldn’t have to keep restraining myself. I’d have what I want. She’d be in my bed every goddamn morning.”

  My eyes popped as he dragged me back to him, pressing his lips to mine for a slow, delirious kiss.

  “You would be a good wife,” he said softly, pulling back. “We would be good together. West will never be it for you. We’re soulmates, Snitch. Face it.”

  He kissed me again. Brutally. Roughly. Until my thoughts swam with the flavor of him. Until I was strung out anytime he pulled away for a breath.

  Then he finally broke away, leaving me on the snowy bench. Leaving me to watch him walk back alone to his snow-dusted castle of Crowne Hall.

  Soulmates.

  Forty-Seven

  STORY

  * * *

  The night of the Nutcracker Masquerade was one of the worst blizzards to ever hit the East Coast. Snow and sleet slammed against the windows as though they were mad at something.

  I should have listened to fate’s warning.

  Grayson and I were going off course.

  I kept wondering…what had come over me? My uncle had told me to live with dignity. Before, I’d abandoned dignity for shame; now, I’d sacrificed it to be shameless.

  Not even Tansy would listen to the warning. As the chandeliers flickered and the wind howled through the halls, she made it clear: anyone who did not make it to the party would not be invited next year. Canceled flights and snowed-in streets were not acceptable excuses.

  Two unopened dress boxes lay on my bed, wrapped in ribbons of different colors: deep emerald or peach.

  Grayson or West.

  Two men promising to build me a happily ever after…and I trusted neither of them. The morning paper lay next to the boxes, a photograph of West, Grayson, Lottie, and me captured a few nights before.

  While he was holding Lottie close, and West was holding me close, our heads were turned to each other. The chandelier glimmered behind our portrait.

  We’re soulmates, Snitch. Face it.

  All this time I’ve been hating Grayson, he’d been building us a happily ever after.

  But my trust for him is now wrapped in thorns.

  I don’t know how to just…unravel that.

  I opened West’s first, lifting the silky peach lid. It was beautiful, a stark white. Looking in the mirror, I held the pink-and-white material against my skin, trying to picture the woman who would wear the low-cut neckline, the short tutu, the matching mask.

  It was beautiful.

  And once again…not me.

  I set it down and went for Grayson’s.

  Simple yet elegant. The lacy skirt fell below the knee and sparkled even in my low light. A green ribbon tied at the waist and fell to my shins. This was me.

  The mask was even more beautiful.

  Nutcracker Masquerade masks weren’t simple lace and ribbon. They were usually made with sparkling diamonds and gold—real diamond of course—and mine was no exception.

  I dropped it to the bed.

  It would definitely garner Tansy Crowne’s ire. I would be the only one not in a mask, but tonight I couldn’t hide. No matter the consequences.

  I wasn’t sure how I’d explain changing my dress to West. He’d been nothing but perfect from day one of our marriage.

  Still, I slid into the lacy material.

  The finishing touch was a ribbon in my hair. The box had come with a silky white ribbon to match the dress, but I took the green one off the box, and tied it in my hair.

  It fell to mid-back.

  A knock sounded on the door and my heartbeat sped up.

  I opened the door, trying to keep my face from falling when West smiled back.

  “That’s not the dress I expected.”

  “I bought this one myself,” I lied.

  Why am I lying?

  It’s not like West and I have anything.

  West smiled. “Well, tonight you really are my angel.”

  “And you are?”

  He pointed to his mask, a beautiful bronze with circular wired ears. “The mouse king, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  He caressed his knuckle down my bare face. “Forgetting something?”

  My stomach twisted, but I shook my head. West arched his brow, but only held his arm out for me.

  “Ready?”

  In the end, the only people who’d made it to the party were those who’d already been in Crowne Hall, so the ballroom was dotted with various Crowne and du Lac family members—and one socialite who had managed to brave the storm, refusing to miss a Crowne party.

  Even Abigail and Theo hadn’t made it.

  It was an ominous party. The few of us lingered like forgotten stage props in the massive ballroom, with no music, and the chandelier flickering overhead, threatening to die, all while Tansy forced us to act as if everything was perfect.

  “There’s a legend in my family,” Grayson’s low, grating whisper sounded close to my ear. “This masquerade was established so my ancestor could dance with his true love without consequence.”

  I stared forward as Gray spoke, stared at the marble floor like everything was fine. West was next to me, Lottie was next to Gray, but the howling wind was our secret keeper.

  “You could get in a lot of trouble for a dance, back then,” he continued. “Imagine what would happen if they kissed.”

  Images of Grayson and I kissing, a dirty secret hidden behind his mask, flooded my brain without consent.

  “Angel,” West said. “You’re looking at the ballroom floor like you want to fuck it.”

  “Am not.” I gasped, turning to West.

  West’s lips lifted. “You’re blushing. What are you blushing for?”

  I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek. “Um. It’s hot in here.”

  “I want to dance with you, Snitch.”

  I could tell by the way Grayson’s low, sultry voice seemed to caress my ear that he’d turned, was looking directly at me. But I stared at West, focused on his smile, as Grayson made my heart slam against my chest.

  Pound.

  Thump.

  “I want to dance with you…but not behind masks.”

  “Clara and her prince!” I jumped, startled, feeling caught. The socialite pointed at my and Grayson’s outfits.

  I looked at my sparkling white-and-green gown. “I-I’m just an angel.”

  “My angel.” West wrapped his arm around my waist.

  Lottie grabbed Grayson’s hand. “And we are Clara and the Nutcracker.”

  Grayson removed his hand from Lottie’s. Lottie paused, slashing her eyes to the floor, mouth parted. She marched off to the opposite side of the ballroom to join her mother.

  The socialite’s mouth stuck in a confused grin.

  When Grayson and Lottie were together, their costume made sense. But somehow, when Grayson stood next to me, we also looked like Clara and the Nutcracker. I wanted to burrow into a fucking hole.

  Grayson focused on me, heat rising to my neck.

  Soulmates.

  I made some excuse to West about getting a tart just so I could get away. The servants were still on the premises, of course, so the ballroom was decorated beautifully and still had towering cakes and sparkling ciders fit for hundreds of guests. I’m sure they’d spent hours on it.

  “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

  I jumped, startled.

  Lottie had taken off her pretty diamond-and-lace mask, and her face had lost some of its color, the pretty hazelnut drained.

  “You know what they call us? The Golden Sisters.” She laughed. “Do golden sisters fuck each other’s husbands? Should I fuck yours?” She made a face, realizing what she’d said. Then she pointed at me. “You couldn’t even marry someone for me to fuck. Bitch.”

  She shoved me off but stumbled again. I gripped her arm.

  “You know
the messed-up thing? I don’t even want to fuck anyone else… I don’t understand what I did wrong. I’ve done what I’m told to do. I did everything I was told to do.”

  She stumbled again and I reached for her elbow. “Let’s go sit down.”

  She shoved me off. “You’re not my girl anymore.”

  “I’m not helping you because I have to, Lottie.”

  She glared at me. “There’s no going back from this. You’re supposed to love him. How could you let him do this?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She laughed, but it was breathless, weak.

  “He didn’t tell you? I guess he doesn’t share everything with his mistress.”

  The snow slammed harder against the windows. I let her go, and she fell to the floor.

  “I think you need some water. Or coffee.”

  “Fuck you, whore.”

  I took a step back, heart in my throat, and kept going. Kept walking until Lottie’s glare wasn’t so bold.

  Then I was grabbed.

  “Grayson?”

  Grayson dragged me backward.

  “Grayson, people will see.”

  He ignored me, pulling me out of the ballroom, walking so fast I tripped over my feet. He dragged us past jewel-colored eyes peering out of their metal-and-lace masks. Dragged us until we were alone in a hallway.

  “Grayson—”

  He spun on me, his height seeming to grow in the shadows and howling wind, blue eyes wilder beneath his gold mask.

  “I need to know tonight if your happily ever after includes me,” he said.

  “I don’t know, Grayson. I can’t—I’m not ready.”

  He nodded like he was expecting it, expecting me to deny him. “I don’t give a shit. You can have time later. Go grab whatever you need. We’re leaving tonight.”

  My heart pounded.

  Leave with Grayson.

  Leave tonight.

  “Can’t we—can’t you—why do you keep doing this?” I shoved him.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Everything is on your timeline. I won’t do it.”

  He gripped me above the elbow, thumb bruising, pulling me so my back arched and I was forced to feel the ache in his bruising eyes.