I pushed my canine with my tongue. He was never supposed to look back. He was never supposed to invite me into his bed. He was never supposed to touch me and smile at me, dammit.
He came closer to me, and fear strangled my throat. Fear that I would give in, and he would abandon me again.
“You’re what everyone says you are,” I said. “A callous, cold playboy. You were never supposed to touch me! Not unless I failed.”
“Fucking predictable.” He laughed, but his eyes were dead. “Turning in your fangirl card, Snitch?”
“Am I wrong? You don’t let anyone in your wing, not even maids. Why? Do you think you’re better than everyone? You force my unc—an old man to clean the entire place by himself. I read the magazines. I see all the girls you’ve ruined—”
“You think I keep my wing closed because I think I’m better than everyone?” He cut me off, grabbing my wrist. “I guess maids love to gossip, huh? But not about how they steal my shit or plant cameras in my fucking shower.”
My lips parted, but no words came out. Maids had done that to him?
“The last girl I got even remotely close with? She was planning to tell the world Gray Crowne raped her the minute we had sex. The girl before that? Was hoping to sell our sex tape and get famous like a Kardashian. The girl before her—”
“Stop!”
“You don’t like it, Snitch? Is it messing with your black-and-white view of me?” He pushed me off and I stumbled back. “Whatever I said to you, forget it. I was sleep deprived. Lottie was there for me when my dad died. Lottie has been there and was always there. Until you stole her fucking spot.”
He walked away, but stopped, looked slightly over his shoulder, and tossed the bag in his hands at my feet. Then he disappeared down the hall.
Against everything in my heart telling me not to look, I opened the bag.
Peanuts.
A bunch of different varieties from canned to bagged, unshelled to shelled, like he wasn’t sure which brand to get.
My heart collapsed, as somewhere down the hall, a door slammed.
Twenty
STORY
* * *
Hours later I was on the floor next to Grayson’s bed, but I wasn’t asleep, and I was pretty sure he was awake too. So I said the thing that had been haunting me.
“I’m sorry.”
So many minutes passed I thought he actually was asleep.
“You know there’s a reason why I haven’t given it up all these years,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“I figured it had something to do with the harem of girls who fucked you over…sorry. Again. For, you know, joining it.”
I heard what sounded like a laugh, and I bit my lower lip, gut pancaking at the sound.
“Lottie and I were grade school sweethearts, and when we were fourteen we were gonna lose it together,” he said.
I all but froze, holding my breath. Was Grayson Crowne actually opening up? To me?
“I came in my pants like a fucking…well, like a schoolboy.”
“She cared?” I couldn’t hide the shock in my voice.
“Nah. I was embarrassed. I was Grayson Crowne, and I was supposed to be perfect. The next day I expected my shit to be all over the halls, but she just…kept it to herself. She didn’t have to be threatened or bribed. I pushed Lottie away, which was dumb, and after her, it was a revolving door of chicks who wanted my name, not me. You already know what happened with most of them. I got off other ways, got them off other ways. Once the first person lied about sleeping with me, others did it. Who wants to admit that they only got Grayson Crowne to eat them out? I got close a lot of times—” Suddenly he stopped. Only a few seconds later I knew why.
“Every time I’m with you, I tell you more than I have anyone my entire fucking life.” He sounded so mad. Pissed at me. At himself.
But my heart thumped.
Even Lottie? I wondered a question I had no right to ask.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I said, throat scratchy. “We’re just connected by a secret I was never supposed to know.”
I hated the silence. I couldn’t see what he was feeling up on his bed. At least when he spoke, I could discern by his voice. He had the most telling voice, even though he tried to hide it through layers and layers of impassivity.
“I’m sorry I stole your happily ever after, Grayson.”
Lottie and Grayson had a love story a decade in the making, and I had come along and thrown a massive wrench into it. Where she gave him lollipops to make his childhood sweeter, I was its bitter aftertaste.
I heard the blankets shift, the bed creak, and when I looked up, Grayson was on his knees before me. Some emotion burned and cracked in his eyes. But before I could wonder, he pulled me into a hug.
GRAY
* * *
Story was stiff in my arms.
Then slowly, hesitantly, she snaked her arms around my waist. Her grasp was small and tender, hands warm.
It was just a hug. It meant nothing.
Friends hugged. So what if my friends don’t hug? If my mother would recoil at the thought, if my grandfather would call me a pussy?
Normal people hugged.
“Get in my bed, Snitch.” I spoke against the top of her head—it smelled like marshmallows. Is that why she always smelled so sweet? It didn’t sound like my voice, but with Snitch, I was learning my voice was a raw and grated thing.
She pulled back, and my eyes dropped to her full lips.
Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. I came really close last night.
“Are you gonna kick me out again?” she asked.
I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. “Maybe.”
Her jaw quirked, and I wanted her to say something. Talk back. She was the only one who did. But she only stood. I stayed on the ground as she did, catching a rare glimpse of her bare knees in her nun nightgown.
Only goddamn Snitch could get me hard over knees, like I was fucking Amish.
When she was settled in my bed, she threw me a curious look. I stood up as well and went to the other side. I stopped, looking at her. Snitch had settled atop the covers again. She gave me that walnut-sized open eyed-stare.
“Get under the sheets,” I grated.
She chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds, then slowly crawled under. I came in after her. I knew I should probably turn on my side and face the ocean. I was starting to like her in my bed too much.
I’d even made a rule last night: don’t bring her up on the bed—and also keep my fucking mouth shut. But when she got it wrong, when she saw me the way everyone else saw me, it fucking twisted me up.
I lay on my side, face edging my pillow, and she did the same.
Nose to nose, her warming my sheets.
Fuck, I really liked this.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” she asked softly.
I arched a brow. “Like fate bullshit?”
“Like…maybe there’s someone out there for us, someone we match with, someone whose soul fits our soul.”
I paused, then said, “Nah.”
“What about Lottie?”
I laughed. “Lottie is way too pure to be my soulmate.”
She frowned at that, and I decided I really didn’t like it when she frowned.
I tried to lighten the mood with another laugh. “Why, do you have a soulmate, Snitch?”
She rested her cheek on her palm and stared back at me, way too open and honest. “If I do, I don’t think he’s someone I’ll end up with.”
Twenty-One
STORY
* * *
Grayson Crowne was asleep, and I was next to him. Me. Morning light bathed him, muscles lovingly chiseled by golden sunlight. I wanted to curl up closer to his naked chest. I wanted this to be something I was allowed.
I started off believing his lies. No one was worthy of him, and that was why he’d never had sex, never let anyone in his wing…But now I saw through it. He’s been burned too many times, he can’t trust a
nyone, he barely trusts himself.
What a lonely, heartbreaking existence.
Even if it wasn’t meant for me, I’m the only one who knows his truth.
It makes me want him more. It makes me want it more. All the things I don’t deserve, all the things that aren’t mine, what I promised to fix and give back to his real love.
“You breathe like fucking Hannibal when you stare,” Grayson said, stretching his long, lean arms over his head.
He opened his eyes, and then I couldn’t hear over the blood in my ears.
A smile quirked his lips.
It hurt. It physically hurt how much I wanted to keep this.
His gaze lifted over me. “Hey, Woodsy.”
My brows knitted, still embraced in the morning. Woodsy?
“Mr. Crowne.” My uncle’s voice shattered everything.
I couldn’t turn over.
Torn.
Torn between the fact that I’d slept all night in Grayson’s bed. He hadn’t made me get on the floor. He hadn’t kicked me out in the morning.
Torn between loving that and the all-out terrifying, perilous fear that was my uncle finding us in bed.
“I see you’re getting close with my niece.”
GRAY
* * *
A few moments passed, and I studied Snitch to see if what he’d said was true.
It was crazy.
Ridiculous.
She wasn’t his fucking niece. I would know. I would know. But the look on her face, the abject shame and sorrow, told me the truth.
I jumped out of bed. Scrambled. The sheets wrapped around my ankles, and I nearly fell over.
“Niece?” My voice lifted with my shock, my fucking horror.
The girl I’d had on her knees.
The only girl I’d put in my bed…
Was Woodsy’s niece.
I was gonna throw up.
“I am particularly fond of her,” Woodsy said, then looked at his watch. “I must finish.” He shot us another look and headed up to the second floor.
“Hey, Woodsy!” I chased after the old man, almost tripping over my feet, ignoring the walnut eyes on my back. He acted like he couldn’t hear me. “Stop, hold up.” He kept walking, so I sprinted, cutting him off halfway down the stairs.
“Oh, Mr. Grayson, I didn’t hear you.” He tapped his hearing aid. “Must be on the fritz again.”
Uh-huh, sure.
“She’s your niece?”
I’d set up a trust fund for his niece years ago; most of it was Woodsy’s money…but I’d thrown in a little extra.
“Yes.”
I raked two hands through my hair. “You don’t see the problem? You made it sound like she was ten or something. You never mentioned her working here.”
“You owe me nothing, sir,” he said.
“Woodsy—” I owed him everything.
“You owe me nothing, sir, but if you ever held any sort of affection for me, let her go. Whatever it is you’re doing here, end it.”
The idea of letting Snitch go shouldn’t have twisted my chest. Lottie was my end goal.
Snitch had gotten out of bed, watching us at the head of the stairs.
I met her eyes when I spoke. “I will.”
Twenty-Two
GRAY
* * *
“Will you talk to me?” Snitch asked for what must have been the hundredth time. “Are you mad?”
Ignoring her, I made my way past the beach to the docks. To most, the Fourth of July party was the one being held on the beach of Crowne Hall. With our famous glittering sand populated by assholes in tuxedos and bespoke dresses most women spent a year having designed.
For me and my sister Gemma, it was usually spent hopping from yacht to yacht, seeing who could get the most obliterated the quickest.
Snitch talked the whole goddamn way.
Where are we going?
Isn’t the party that way?
She was getting way too fucking comfortable. I was letting her.
“Please don’t hurt my uncle—”
I gripped her shoulders, and whatever she was about to say vanished.
“Be a good pet and stay.” I placed her next to an ice sculpture of a dick. “Don’t speak unless spoken to. You’ll be gone soon enough, Snitch.”
“Gone?” Her voice must have raised ten octaves. “What do you mean gone?”
Across the deck, Lottie leaned against the railing, wearing the sexiest fucking mini dress.
“Lottie!” I called out.
She lifted her head, smiling, waving me over.
“Shit, Lottie,” I said when I reached her, giving her a long once-over. “Are you trying to give everyone a stroke?”
She laughed.
I put my elbows on the railing, crooking my head to look at her. “You’re gonna fall if you keep leaning against the boat this way.”
“Will you jump in to save me?” she teased.
“Nah,” I said, shooting her a grin.
She shoved me. “You’re always so mean.”
I shrugged like yeah, and she smiled at me again, leaning forward until her shoulder touched mine. Fucking finally—progress.
“But that isn’t who you really are, Grayson Crowne,” she said softly, and our eyes locked.
“What do you know of it?” I asked, voice raw.
“I always thought I knew the parts of you everyone else didn’t. The arrogant boy who secretly did everyone’s homework.”
So of course someone had to stumble over and ruin it.
“Lottieeeee.”
Lottie blinked, turning to find her friend Aundi.
“I need a teammate for pong. Come play with me.”
“I’m busy,” she said.
“With Playboy Gray? I think he’ll be fine without you.” Aundi tugged on her wrist.
I looked away, over the ocean and to the beach, while they battled it out. Eventually Lottie shooed Aundi away, but the vibe was dead. Awkward. Stale.
“Did you ever consider dating me?” I asked after a moment. “You let me court you for a year, but the entire time you knew about the marriage. Were you ever once interested in me?”
Lottie bit her lip. “I mean…are you asking if I would have had I not known of the marriage?” She looked away.
Fuck.
Yeah, fuck this.
I pushed off the railing.
“But wait, Grayson!” She caught my arm. “You’re Playboy Gray. I don’t want to be with someone with a wandering heart. You don’t know—you don’t understand what that’s like for me. What I’ve grown up in.”
She looked close to tears, and why the fuck wouldn’t she be? An entire year she was forced to entertain me, her worst goddamn nightmare.
I opened my mouth to contradict her but stopped. Why bother? At that exact moment, as if fucking fate knew, my eyes collided with Snitch. She knew my secret; she knew I didn’t have a wandering eye.
Fucking worst of all, she asked questions.
But why her?
Why did it have to be her?
I gently removed Lottie’s arm from mine. “Yeah, that would suck.”
I looked around at the party pulsing with models, actresses, and princesses, and found the nearest two girls dressed in only bikinis. I draped my arms around them. “Who wants to party with Playboy Gray?”
STORY
* * *
Be a good pet and stay.
Which I’d done. For the past hour. We were on the back of a small docked yacht, our view the glimmering Fourth of July party beach. I always thought the Crowne Fourth party was the most exclusive party in the world, but this was the other side of the other side. We were far enough away to be secret, close enough to still see the glittering sand and fireworks.
On the yacht, everyone was either dressed in their best, in the skimpiest bikinis known to man, or in absolutely nothing at all.
I couldn’t have stood out worse.
I’d had to watch Grayson and Lottie flirt,
see his sweet yet leonine smiles. Pretend it didn’t bug me. Because that was the goal, right? Then all this would be over.
But I couldn’t stop wondering, Did he whisper dirty, cruel things like with me?
Did it light her on fire, like it did me?
Now? Grayson leaned off the back of the yacht, his tuxedo jacket long tossed to some forgotten corner of the boat, his white dress shirt unbuttoned and showing the muscular planes of his chest. Two barely clothed models simultaneously poured champagne into his mouth, and it splashed past his lips, wet his chest, and soaked his shirt to his skin.
Grayson had barely looked at me since he’d discovered who my uncle was. I understood why he was ignoring me, but why is he ignoring Lottie?
He came up laughing and kissed one, then the other, before taking a drag of his cigarette. Once again I wondered how he could do this to Lottie. He was supposed to love her, and he’d left her alone to kiss random models.
“I upset him.”
I jumped at the voice. Turning, I looked into the dark-brown eyes of Lottie du Lac. In a silk green minidress with diamond straps that hugged every curve and left little to the imagination, she was gorgeous.
I quickly looked at the shiny maple deck.
“I think we’re past that.”
I lifted my head, but her eyes were on Grayson.
“Any advice? What can I do to fix what I broke?” She turned to me. “You have a unique relationship with him, after all.”
Have you ever come on someone’s hand, Snitch?
The memory blasted through me.
“No. He just likes my uncle,” I lied. Why? Why was I lying? “So I guess it runs in the family.”
I was starting to feel like I was in over my head. Dirty. Icky.
Wrong.
“Maybe if you told him the truth, what was on your mind.”
She laughed softly. “Du Lac women keep anything untoward to themselves.” She spoke almost robotically, like they weren’t her own words.
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