“Anywhere.”
He gave me a deep, bone-melting grin. “That’s my girl.”
I waited for Grayson to wake up, fist clutching the fabric of my shirt. It was slow agony watching him open his eyes, turn his head, and search for me in the bed.
When I wasn’t there, he jolted up, only to be stopped by the handcuff.
I clutched my shirt harder.
He found me standing a few feet from the bed.
“What the fuck is this, Story?”
“I knew you weren’t going to let me leave, Grayson. You had that look in your eyes. You can’t let me go. Not…willingly.”
He rattled the handcuff. “Open it.”
I can’t recall a time I’d ever seen that look in his eyes, heard the timbre in his voice. Not when he’d realized he’d mistaken me for Lottie. Not even when I’d had West inside me.
It nearly made me listen.
I shook my head. “I’ll be back.”
“You’re goddamn insane if you think I’m going to let you leave and tell the world you’re having his baby.”
“If you don’t let me go, we’ll only have ashes to live in.”
He pulled again, the headboard creaking.
“You’ll see. In a week or two when the dust settles, and you haven’t lost everything, and we’re that much closer to having it all. You’ll see, Grayson. I’ll be back.”
“Let me the fuck out.” He pulled at the handcuff. “You call me Atlas, but you stayed for years in hell for no other reason than to care for your uncle, and now what? You’re locking yourself in another hell for this bullshit? I won’t let you do it. You’re not thinking about what you’ll have to do.”
“Yes, I am.” I swiped the tears blurring my eyes, then took a deep breath so my voice was steady. “I am.”
He utterly froze.
Then with his stony glare locked on me, Grayson yanked at the cuff so hard, the headboard groaned. I could see the skin break.
“Stop!”
He did it again.
And again.
His jaw tight, eyes callous.
“Mr. Crowne.” I tried our safe word, voice hoarse, shredded.
He yanked his arm forward, blood streaming down his wrist.
“Mr. Crowne!” I ran to him, begged him, dropping to my knees, grasping his chained hand in mine. My chest ached with the way his blue eyes cracked. I couldn’t help myself…I ran my free hand down his jaw. He turned into it, biting my finger. I nearly lost myself.
Almost missed him grab me with his free hand.
I stepped back at the last minute, and he grasped air.
“Fuck!” he yelled. “Don’t fucking do this, Story. Don’t be his wife. Be mine.”
I opened my mouth, but paused.
I know I should tell him I’m going to be West’s mistress, that I’m doing exactly what Grayson did when he omitted how he planned to save me. But I need him to see we can do this first.
That this plan will save us.
He slammed his arm forward and the headboard cracked. I couldn’t leave him like this, couldn’t leave us like this, with Grayson ripping his skin open. We had to do this together. I took a tentative step closer, then dropped back to my knees.
I pressed my forehead to his.
“I am your wife. In all the ways that matter. Your wife. Yours. And when this is all over, when we don’t have to hide, my name will be Story Crowne. If you want…” I trailed off, looking at my knees, suddenly filled with irrational insecurity, even after everything.
“Snitch,” he rasped. “Look at me.”
I lifted my eyes to his searing blue ones.
He kissed me. His tongue seeking mine, dueling.
“Story Crowne,” he groaned, his tongue still in my mouth, lips wet on mine. “What a perfect fucking name for a perfect little wife.”
The morning grew hot on my back, and I knew our time was coming to an end. The proverbial midnight had struck.
I tried to pull away, but Grayson held my neck in place.
“Grayson, you have to let go.”
His thumb dug. Bruising.
“I can’t let you go, Story. I’ve tried. I fail every time.”
“Then don’t, Grayson. Don’t ever let me go. I won’t if you won’t. I’ll hold onto you. In my heart. In my soul. In the places that matter. Will you do the same?”
I took his ring finger into my mouth, biting it like he had mine.
Begging him to see the truth in my eyes.
He watched me, lids half-mast. “I will always keep you inside me. Forever. I don’t have a fucking say in the matter.”
Still he wouldn’t let me go.
“Grayson,” I whispered.
“Don’t leave me, little wife.” His voice shredded my chest, then he slammed his lips back on mine. His kiss was calculated torture designed to make me succumb and surrender.
I broke off on a gasp, desperate to find clarity in my thoughts.
He didn’t stop kissing me even as I turned my head. Kissing my cheek, the angle of my jaw—anything.
“Grayson—”
“Give in, little wife.”
“Grayson, stop!”
He ripped his lips off me with a growl. “It’s not just West, Story! We’re going up against everyone.”
“This is the only way. I’ll get all the dirt West has on you and destroy it. You’ll get the final coin, and together, we’ll rewrite destiny.”
“If it works,” he said darkly. “If it doesn’t? Best case: you’re with West. Worst case: war.”
I swallowed. “It’ll work. I think it’s fate, Grayson.” I kissed him softly, keeping our lips pressed as I spoke. “It’s fate you gave my uncle your coin. It’s fate you never used any of yours. I don’t think our fate is forbidden, I think our destiny is divided, and we just haven’t found the right path.”
He deepened our kiss, then shoved me off. “Go. Get the fuck away before I change my mind.”
I quickly took two steps back.
“The key is in the desk…I’ll write to you, Atlas.”
I was at the door when his growl stopped me. “Little wife.”
I looked over my shoulder. His sculpted, golden torso shone in the morning light. With his wrist shackled to the bed, he looked like a god receiving punishment.
“I’m trusting you, I’m believing in us, but I won’t risk you,” he said. “If I even hear the slightest whisper that he’s hurting you, he’s dead. I won’t stop to ask your permission. I won’t worry about the consequences. And if we discover the chance of failure is even one percent, it’s over. We do it my way.”
One percent? That was ridiculous. “Gray—”
“And,” he continued, cutting me off with a growl. “If I have to become the Grayson Crowne, if I have to become that man, I’ll do it for you. Maybe I can’t be my sister, maybe I can’t ever leave this hell, but I can rule it.”
I swallowed. “I don’t want that. That’s not what I want. I want us free. We’ll…we’ll be free. I promise. Just trust me.”
“I let you go, didn’t I?” he snarled.
The tone clawed at my soul, but more than that…it frightened me.
I knew I had to leave. The longer I stayed, I not only risked us, but risked the urge to run to him. So I turned.
“I’ll build us a world where fate bows to Grayson Crowne.”
I paused at his words, then sprinted out of the room.
Sixty-Two
STORY
* * *
My love story started with a mistaken kiss, which led to a marriage proposal by the wrong man and ended here, bound to him. In a car to god knows where.
I hoped I’d just made enough wrong decisions to finally put Grayson and me on the right path.
“Where are we going?” I asked West.
“Scotland.”
I blinked. “What? Why?”
“It’s the last place he’ll look for you. He’d never think to check under his own fucking nose.”
I looked away. “He won’t look for me.”
I rubbed my palm hard.
I guess it was always my fate to leave Crowne Point. To go to Scotland.
I just thought it would be a happier occasion.
A freeing one.
West laughed. “He’ll never stop. And I’m counting on it. Once the divorce is final, we’ll be back in time for Christmas.”
My brow furrowed at that.
I thought West was taking me away from Grayson.
“Every way you look at this, I win. He touches you, I get everything. He so much as lays a finger on you, I win. If you never touch him again, then I still fucking win.”
“Do you have someone in mind already?” I asked softly. West’s eyes narrowed. “Someone to marry.”
“She means nothing. She’s well aware of the arrangement. Past the wedding, I’ll barely see her.”
Past the wedding…I wondered how much West stood to lose if he didn’t go through with it. If it was as much as Grayson.
If he could lose more.
“What’s her name?” I asked.
Silence descended on the town car.
I looked out the window, imagining the world Josephine had described. A world where I was seen as a mistress. A world where the baby in my belly wasn’t Grayson’s.
I could do that. I could survive being seen as my mother, in my soul, knowing I did the right thing. The thing my mother never would have done.
I pulled out my phone. At least I had this, this shred of me.
I told Grayson I would write to him, and I meant it.
I opened up my Instagram—then nearly dropped my phone. I had more than ten thousand followers. In the grand scheme of people with millions, it was nothing. To me, it was everything, especially now that everything that made me me was about to be stolen indefinitely.
They didn’t know anything about me, didn’t know who I was, didn’t know all the bad things I’d done.
They were just following me, my writing.
It made my heart beat.
It was as though for the first time in my life, I wasn’t hiding.
* * *
Dear Atlas, please forgive me. You thought I wouldn’t notice when you dropped the world and used your broken sky for stepping-stones into heaven. You thought I wouldn’t see the blood on your feet, as if my feet haven’t bled every day from my broken glass slippers.
I’m stealing it.
Let me be Atlas for a while.
* * *
West gripped my chin. “You might be with me because of Grayson, but you’re anyone’s game now, Story.”
“Well, you’ve always had a problem with listening, West,” I gritted.
His eyes darkened. “You didn’t give me a proper chance. You loved me once. You can love me again.”
I yanked my chin away, disbelief leaving me in a stuttering breath. “I’ll never forgive you.”
He laughed like he knew something about me I didn’t. “You forgave him.”
It was different.
Wasn’t it?
I bit my lower lip until the pain was all I could feel.
He placed his palm on my thigh and I jerked my leg to get him off, but he gripped me tighter. His eyes dropped to my neck, to the fresh bite Grayson had left, and his grip turned bruising.
“If he touches you, if you so much as kiss him, I get everything.” He took my chin between his bruising fingers. “I’m a jealous master, Angel, and I’m done sharing you. I look forward to earning your forgiveness. Or your obedience. Whichever comes first.”
Story and Gray’s destiny continues in Destroyed Destiny, available for preorder now at special preorder sale price by clicking the title!
If my destiny with Grayson Crowne is divided, we’ll spend a lifetime finding our happily ever after.
But if a house divided never stands, then my destiny with Grayson never stood a chance.
Maybe we don’t need to find our destiny.
We need to destroy it.
But keep reading! So you have something during the wait, I’ve included a special sneak preview of Heartless Hero, Abigail and Theo’s story, and where you first see Story and Gray.
What’s next
Hi!!
*chuckles nervously*
So, I honestly spent over a month on the last chapters of Forbidden Fate, seeing if I could finish this love story in a way that did Story and Gray justice. Guys, I’m emotionally exhausted. Ripped apart. Their love has taken so much from me.
But it just couldn’t be done.
These guys are on an epic journey, and I’m just along for the ride.
But I can’t wait to bring you the next book in the Crowne Point universe! They might rip my heart apart, but it’s worth it, and it has been such an honor to go on this journey with you.
I’m once again asking you to please not spoil the ending. Of course you can still talk about the book!! I’m always so grateful when readers review and share their love of my stories! Just please don’t spoil it for the next reader. Years ago, when an HP book came out, my brother stood in line for my sister and I because people would drive by and yell out spoilers to people waiting in line.
The hell? Right?
But how amazing was my brother for standing in line so my sister and I didn’t get our favorite book spoiled? That always stuck with me.
It’s the reason I work so hard to keep the ending hush—when I’m waiting for a book, it spoils it for me! So I’d appreciate it if you can help me keep that goal for the next reader.
There’s always going to be some person yelling in line, someone who just wants to spoil it for the next person, but maybe together we can keep the magic alive!
* * *
RAGING ABOUT THE ENDING?
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Heartless Hero Preview
ABOUT HEARTLESS HERO
A brand new second chance bully romance from Mary Catherine Gebhard. Find out why Bestselling Author C.L. Matthews said "This is, and will be, my favorite bully book of all time” and author S.M. Soto called it “The best bully romance of 2019!"
There are rules to being Abigail Crowne’s bodyguard, rules to watching the infamous billion-dollar heiress, otherwise known as the Reject Princess.
Never forget your place, always put the Crowne name above all else, and never, ever hurt the Reject.
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 disappoint
ment.’” 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.
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