“I’ll be better, Lottie.”
Sorrow and sadness filled Lottie’s features. Worst of all…disbelief. She didn’t believe me.
I didn’t believe me.
Still, determined not to give Lottie another reason to buy a stuffed animal, I held my arm out to her, and together we headed downstairs.
“So…don’t bring up Great-Grandpa?” I reiterated as we descended the stairs.
“Not unless you want to die at the table.” Lottie laughed.
I laughed, too, just as Lottie stopped short on the stairs. I nearly toppled us both down. I looked to see what could have made her freeze.
There was a man in the grand foyer, speaking with Mrs. du Lac. He looked like he could’ve been Lottie’s dad’s age, with salt-and-pepper hair, but the similarities ended there. His short brown hair was cut and styled youthfully, and he definitely didn’t dress like du Lacs. He looked like a pilot or explorer in his leather jacket, dark blue shirt, and darker jeans.
“I thought you were in Bosnia.” Mrs. du Lac reached for the man, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“I didn’t want to miss Charlie’s wedding.”
Charlie.
I glanced at Lottie. She stared at him with a look I realized I’d never seen on her face before—anger. Even with everything I’d done, she’d never looked at me like that. I’d received sadness and disappointment.
I looked back at the man as he pulled back on a laugh. “Obviously I failed on that front.”
“Oh, well…” Mrs. du Lac trailed off on an awkward, soft laugh, clearly remembering the shitshow that was our wedding. “You’re here now. How long are you in town?”
Who was this guy? A photographer? A filmmaker? Some guy who still lived off his trust fund, never quite grasping he wasn’t in his twenties anymore? Those were the only people who dressed like that in our world at that age.
“Only a few days, until my visa for Syria comes through.”
Mrs. du Lac clicked her tongue. “Is MSF really sending you to a war zone?”
MSF…Médecins Sans Frontières aka Doctors Without Borders.
Doctor.
I gave him another once-over. He definitely came from old money.
“But you’ll be here for the Labor Day party?”
“I’ll do my best. Is Charlie around?”
Beside me, Charlie bristled.
“She’s upstairs with her new husband.”
His eyes traveled up the stairs, landing on us. Mrs. du Lac followed, eyebrows lifting a little.
“Oh, you’re down early,” Mrs. du Lac said, then she gestured to the man beside her. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?”
A stiff silence passed, one I couldn’t decipher.
Mrs. du Lac blinked. “Say hello, Charlotte.”
I’d heard that tone used many times with my sister, Abigail. It really meant, What the fuck is wrong with you?
“Hi, Jack,” Lottie said without emotion.
Once again I looked between them as another pause weighed the air.
“Why don’t we take this into the next room?” Mrs. du Lac said. “Lottie and Gray, you’re welcome to join us.”
Aka, you must join us.
Then Jack, apparently, followed Mrs. du Lac into the next room. Lottie followed them with her eyes, staying still.
“Who is that guy?” I asked.
“No one,” she said, her eyes on the empty doorway they’d just gone through. With a stiff exhale, she descended the steps. Beyond her, West and Story walked by the window.
They were laughing.
Fucking laughing.
Lottie reached the bottom, looking up at me expectantly. I took a step, then froze. West licked his thumb, swiping it across Story’s cheek. I could hear only buzzing in my ears. Feel the tightness in my chest.
I flexed my knuckles.
He’s too fucking close.
“Gray?”
“I’ll follow,” I gritted.
A look flitted across Lottie’s face, but she said nothing.
STORY
* * *
After West had given me a tour of Du Lac Manor, I realized the similarities between it and Crowne Hall were as stark as their differences. Each was haunted in its own way.
He opened the door for me and said, “After you, Cinderella.”
I tried not to laugh, but failed. I wanted to hate him, but he wasn’t easy to hate. He was charming and he was funny. He told me anecdotes about Du Lac Manor, places his uncles and great-cousins had christened with their stupidity. Like the time his great-uncle John tried to piss the farthest and was arrested for indecency, so they had to buy the acreage.
“Did you have a good time?”
Grayson’s voice stopped me in my tracks. He stood at the foot of the stairs, sunlight and shadow accentuating a glower hotter than fire.
“Um…” I trailed off.
“Lottie has been looking for her girl,” he said, soft and dark.
Oh.
Shit.
I quickly moved to go attend to Lottie, but West gripped my elbow, holding me in place.
“My sister can go without her girl for an hour,” West said, laughter in his voice. “She’s not entirely helpless.”
“Three,” Grayson said, his voice cold. “It’s been three.”
“Oh, well, that changes things,” West said, laughing harder.
Grayson zeroed on me. “You’re only here because we allow it. Try and make some effort.”
Fury and betrayal made a noxious soup in my gut. Each inhale felt like breathing in knives. Yes, he allowed me to stay, but it isn’t the greatest benevolence to sleep on the floor to avoid an ashy bed. To be forced to fly to fucking Asheville when I wanted to stay with my uncle, the only reason I’m doing this.
“Thank you for allowing me to stay. It’s so important I get to stay near my uncle. After all, every minute counts.” His brow crinkled, and I swear recognition flickered in his blue gaze.
But I didn’t care.
“I should go to Mrs. Grayson Crowne.”
I shucked off West and walked by Grayson, leaving them both behind. I swiped at my face, trying to wipe off the heat. For a minute, I’d laughed with West and forgotten my life. Forgotten the darkness.
I heard the footsteps moments later, pounding on the hardwood.
“Hey!” Grayson called after me. I walked faster. “Story, wait! Story!” He spun me around. “I’m sorry. I got…” He tangled his hands in his hair. Absently, I noticed it looked wilder. I hated that I wanted to know what had been on his mind.
“I worry about you,” he finished.
Unwanted hope sprang in my chest.
Maybe he still wanted me. Maybe the weight on his shoulders was me.
“It’s not your job to worry about me, Mr. Crowne.”
He looked like I’d slapped him. Then an icy cold fell across his features. “Why were you with him?”
Why do you care?
Why do you fucking care?
I still had no clue why he’d ever broken us in the first place. But I did know the only reason he’d given me that moment on his wedding was because of his wife.
I was starting to think I got us all wrong. He was just like West, a rich boy who believed he was entitled to my love.
I took a breath, then said with an even voice, “What I do is of no concern to you, Mr. Crowne.” I turned, not waiting for a reply.
“He raped you!” His yell slammed against my back, echoing off the walls and freezing me in place.
The proclamation seemed to silence everything, even the birds outside, until only dust remained. Lingering in the air and catching the stripe of sunlight piercing the shadowy hall like stardust.
That little shred of hope I had that wouldn’t fucking die—ripped out. I don’t know how he learned…but I know now why he won’t let me go. The why—it’s always the same with these boys.
I straightened my shoulders, slowly turning. “Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Crowne. I
wouldn’t have figured it out otherwise.”
“Story, wait.” He grabbed my bicep. “Just fucking wait.”
“Why? Why do I need to wait for you?” My voice started to shake. “You left me. The only reason you’re paying attention is because you learned another guy dirtied your merchandise.”
“That’s not—” He exhaled and dropped me. “You don’t think that. You don’t believe that about me.”
I didn’t know what I believed anymore.
“Why do you keep hanging around him?”
“Why do you care?” I yelled.
“You know why.” His voice lowered to a growl that vibrated and throbbed in my chest.
“Don’t,” I whispered. I tried to step back, but his grip tightened, holding me in place.
This wasn’t okay.
He was supposed to leave me alone. Leave me to hate him.
“You chose to come here,” he said, voice fast and furious. “You could have stayed in Crowne Hall with your uncle. You chose.”
It was my turn to feel slapped. I bit at my upper lip, my heart racing faster than my lungs could gather air.
Are you allowed to feel betrayal when he doesn’t belong to you? Doesn’t matter—still burns my chest. How could he believe that?
Finally I spoke. “Does that sound like something I would do, Grayson?”
“Grayson?” Lottie’s soft voice cracked the moment. Grayson dropped me, and I took a step back. Lottie looked between us.
Behind her, her mother stood with another man I didn’t know.
“I see you’ve located your girl,” Mrs. du Lac said, eyes on me, cold.
I lowered my eyes to the floor.
“Dinner is ready.”
Nine
GRAY
* * *
Mr. du Lac sat at the helm of the table, Mrs. du Lac at the other end, and sandwiched between them was what must have been the most silent, awkward dinner table in existence.
Does that sound like something I would do…does that sound like something I would do…over and over again, Story’s words played in my head.
No.
It didn’t.
So my lovely, pure, innocent wife fucking lied. The lines were drawn clearly by the wedding band around my finger. Yet the protective urge I feel isn’t for Lottie. The betrayal coursing through my blood is on behalf of Snitch.
Fuck.
“Grayson, you’re so quiet,” West said. “I think this is the first time you haven’t forced us all to attend the Grayson Crowne show.”
I lifted my eyes from my dinner knife. Across the table, at the corner next to his mother and conveniently as far as fuck away from me as possible, was West. He grinned.
I played with the knife in my hand.
He really wanted to do this at dinner?
“How’s your eye?” I asked. It was dark, purpling, but not bruised enough, in my opinion.
Lottie knocked her wine to her lap, spilling and staining her dress.
I handed her my napkin.
“Can you not start something with my brother at dinner?” she whispered, and yanked the napkin from my hand.
I settled back into my chair. West’s smile had dropped. The corners of my lips lifted, barely. Bitterly.
Silence passed.
Stale.
Jack looked left and right, filling himself in on the silent conversation. “So the wedding looked beautiful.”
West laughed.
And the room descended into silence.
Dinner was oppressive. It was dark. All of us in our best clothing, in gowns and suits, eating in sallow silence. I couldn’t say for certain if the du Lacs always ate this way, because my mother and Mrs. du Lac had such a deep-rooted rivalry.
“So…MSF?” my mother attempted.
“Jack is a dear family friend.” Something flickered in Mrs. du Lac’s eyes, something warm. “He’s known us longer than Lottie’s been alive.”
I glanced at Lottie. She was staring at Jack. Again.
“Right, dear?”
Mrs. du Lac tried to get her husband’s attention, but it was elsewhere. He gripped the leg of a maid, who smiled thinly. Mrs. du Lac smiled softly despite her husband’s reproach.
I placed my hand in Lottie’s. It felt wrong. I was still pissed at her for lying, but I was determined not to be that man.
Jack’s eyes flickered to our joined hands as he cut his steak.
“West will be taking Arthur’s place soon,” Mrs. du Lac said loudly as her husband slid his hand up the maid’s thigh. “After the New Year.”
“Retirement?” Jack said. “Never thought I’d see that day, Arthur.”
“Grayson will step into a more pivotal role at Crowne Industries as well,” my mother supplied. “It will be good to have some youth in the company.”
“Just two brothers working together,” West said, grinning at me.
And at that moment, Snitch came into the room. Though she did as all Crowne servants were trained to do—blend in—everyone watched her. Mr. du Lac stopped showering attention on the maid, turning back to us. He dug into the meal silently.
“Mrs. Crowne,” Story whispered. “You called for me?”
Before Lottie could respond, her father spoke.
“Isn’t this the girl that turned my daughter into a laughingstock?”
Snitch froze, still bent at a ninety-degree angle next to Lottie’s ear.
“I suppose it’s a good thing this was always about one thing from the beginning. Crowne Industries. Otherwise I might actually give a shit.”
“Daddy, please…” Lottie implored before turning to Snitch. “I… I spilled. I need you to prepare a new dress.”
Snitch nodded and left.
I didn’t like the way Mr. du Lac’s eyes followed Snitch as she exited, tracking her like prey. When Snitch had barely left, Mr. du Lac made some excuse about going to the restroom, pushing out his wooden chair.
“Arthur,” I said. “Lottie was telling me your grandfather had an interest in architecture?”
Mr. du Lac paused. “He was the first person to bring Châteauesque architecture to North Carolina…it’s a fascinating story. I’ll tell you all about it after dinner.” He glanced where Story had gone, and followed.
West and I shared a look.
As he got out of his chair, I started to push from mine. “I’ll be back.”
“Sure.” Lottie smiled and turned back to her food.
I looked from her, to my mother, to Mrs. Du Lac…all wearing that smile as though it were armor. I didn’t want Lottie to become them, but Snitch was in the other room.
It’s nothing. I’ll learn to love Lottie like Snitch learned to hate me. And if I can’t, then I’ll fucking fake it. I won’t subject her to the same ruinous destiny as my mother.
STORY
* * *
I edged away from Mr. du Lac.
“You’re the girl everyone is making a fuss about,” he said.
He’d cornered me in the adjacent bar right as I was about to head up to Lottie’s room.
“Mr. du Lac…” I took a small step to the left, and so did he. “I need to go prepare Mrs. Crowne’s dress.”
“I like it when you keep your eyes down,” he snarled. “Maybe we should make the other girls do that.”
I stepped back, my back colliding with something hard. I heard a crash, a clatter, and wet seeped into my shirt. A bar.
I stopped trying to play nice and made a dash for the door, but he slammed his hands on either side, dark eyes on me.
“Your wife is in the other room.” My hands slipped on the now-wet surface, looking for purchase.
“And?”
Fear pounded in my chest. Do I fight him? And then what? These were the employers you hoped to never have. The kind who saw our submission as their right.
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
Relief and something else mixed in my chest at the voice. Westley du Lac had come, and he was not the white knight
I’d expected…or hoped for.
When Mr. du Lac didn’t immediately respond, West grabbed his father by the shoulder, pulling him off me.
Adrenaline pounded in my skull.
I couldn’t recall a time I’d ever seen West look like this. He was always so carefree, but now his square jaw was tilted up, showing a throbbing neck, eyes shadowed and hard—as if he was barely holding back.
“You know what they say about her,” his father said. “She doesn’t belong to anyone.”
Mr. du Lac flung his hand out to me and I flinched, closing my eyes and bracing for the hit.
Moments later, a crash sounded.
Grayson had slammed Mr. du Lac into the wall.
“You okay, Snitch?” His voice was a low, deep growl.
“I had this covered, Crowne,” West said.
Grayson either didn’t care or didn’t hear. I could see the muscles in Grayson’s back clench through his tailored dark-gray suit. My heart thumped and thumped and thumped. At West…at Grayson looming so close, eyes murderous.
At being cared for…by both of them.
Mr. du Lac’s eyes narrowed. “There are rules—an order to things. Even we follow that. If she’s your mistress, you must—”
Grayson lifted him up by the collar, only to slam him harder against the wall.
What rules? What order? I didn’t want to ever find out.
“Grayson? West—oh my god!”
We all looked at the same time to see we had an audience. Lottie and her mother, as well as Mrs. Crowne and the man, Jack, had crammed into the doorway.
“What’s going on?”
One by one, their eyes landed on me.
I knew they knew the answer. I saw it in their faces, some kind of resigned disappointment. This obviously isn’t new behavior.
What is new, is Grayson and West.
“Grayson?” Lottie asked.
Grayson shot me a look. What was I supposed to do?
Slowly, reluctantly, Grayson let Mr. du Lac go and went to Lottie.
His wife.
“Just getting your father a nightcap.”
GRAY
* * *
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