West’s hand came to my collarbone, fingering the new diamond pendant that had replaced my golden heart.
Was I ready? I don’t know.
Two weeks of training had made me the girl behind the girl.
The second choice.
I lifted my eyes, meeting his in the dusty window.
Invisible and unloved…officially.
Nine
STORY
We were just an hour outside of Crowne Point. Snow already frosted the plane windows.
Anticipation was fireflies in my gut.
And fear.
Grayson was only an hour away. Was it really coming to an end? Would I really see him again? When I left Grayson chained to his bed, my heart was filled with hope. Now it was filled with maybes.
Maybe I should have left with him.
Maybe I should have let him destroy everything.
Maybe this was all a mistake.
“You look like a princess,” my girl gushed as she draped me in silver velvet. The only thing left to add to my ensemble was a sparkling silver veil, embroidered with velvet silver flowers, and with a beaded crown-like headband of black, silver, and white gold pearls.
Silver will look beautiful on you.
Tears clogged my throat as I stared at myself in the foot-long, gilded mirror.
I was not going to be his princess.
I’m never going to be his princess.
“She does.” West’s smooth, silky voice drifted in with the low buzzing of the plane.
Tears burned my eyes as I met his in the mirror. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black tux, with shiny black satin lapels and a deep, blood-red bow tie. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be a low-key evening. Not with how I was dressed. Not with the date on the calendar.
Christmas Eve.
My girl quickly dotted my tears away with a fresh cloth handkerchief, the du Lac emblem embroidered on the corner in lilac.
“Leave us,” West said, eyes still locked with mine.
We stayed like that for a while, his reflection a shiny barrier. Underneath his arm was a folded-up paper, but I couldn’t see the headline.
Our descent was almost finished. The spires of Crowne Hall jutted into the night, tipped in snow, behind them spotlights crisscrossed the black sky.
We were landing.
I had a bird’s-eye view of the train of oily town cars and limousines coming up the cobblestone driveway.
The plane jostled as the wheels lowered, and West gripped my elbow to keep me from falling.
“You’re still doing a terrible job at pretending, Angel.”
I looked away, down to the red velvet skirt of my dress pooling on the hardwood jet floor.
“You can talk with me, you know.”
I mashed my lips together, and he gripped my chin, dragging my face to his.
“Talk, Angel.”
West was a monster. So after everything he’d done to me…why couldn’t I hate him?
“I should hate you,” I whispered.
West arched a brow, a slight smile quirking his lips. “Should?”
I tripped over my tongue. “I do. I do hate you.”
Flashbacks to my first night with Grayson assaulted me. I know I had no reason to like West. No reason to forgive him. No reason to hold a space for him inside me.
Except for that one big, unavoidable reason.
I. Can’t. Stop.
My uncle did always say I was the smartest person he knew, but when it came to boys I was a damn fool.
A rush of cold, salty winter beach air filled the cabin and a moment later, the captain spoke. “We’re here, sir.”
The doors were open; I was minutes from my reunion. I breathed in the brackish, winter air. Air I’d missed so much. I could already picture the beaches covered in powdery snow—
That outfit doesn’t look like something West picked out.
Just like that, fear choked me. I wondered what Grayson would think once he saw me in this dress, so similar to the woman he had hated all his life. I was so…so terrified.
Not that he wouldn’t love me.
But that because he loved me…it would hurt so much more.
“Do you really think he loves you, Angel?” West’s light, cutting voice made me blink out of the memory. He pulled the paper tucked under his arm. “You haven’t even been gone two weeks.”
It was the same imprint that had got me attacked. The photo was of Lottie and Grayson, and it looked like it was taken the morning after the Nutcracker Masquerade. Lottie was seated on a golden chaise, and Grayson was behind it, hand protectively above her. I noted the one I’d handcuffed him with was hidden. He had his Grayson Crowne smile. Lottie didn’t even bother to smile.
They looked like an old royal painting, a lost Romanov artifact.
It read: A New Era of Crowne Begins: Grayson Crowne to Announce Heir
I knew when I left we would be tested. I knew they would test us. But even still, tears wetted my eyes. I rubbed my bare collarbone, staring at the dueling shadows on the hardwood floor.
My heart broke for the ache in his eyes.
I told him I’d write to him, but he’d never received any of my secret messages. I’d broken that promise. What had my lonely prince, my Atlas, had to go through without me?
West came up behind me. “I have a proposal for you… I’ll give you the video and files. Every little thing keeping Grayson Crowne hostage.”
My eyes locked with his in the mirror.
“I’ll even give you your locket back.”
He unfurled his fist, dangling the gold so it reflected in the mirror.
“And in return?”
“Choose me. Sleep in my bed every night, no tears.” The gold locket still dangling out of focus, he swiped at my tears.
No.
No. No. No. No. No. No.
My chest screamed it.
That was a one-time scar. I refused to cut myself again.
“If I say no, you’ll force me in your bed.” I glared at him through the mirror. “Like last time.”
“I’m giving you an option. You’re his, but I want you to be mine. So, why don’t we make this interesting, Angel?”
“Another bet, West? I guess you are so good at them.”
Some emotion flickered in his eyes, but he looked away before I could register it.
“I sleep in your bed one night and you’ll give me the password?”
He shook his head.
“Then how long?”
West shrugged a shoulder. “That part you don’t need to know.”
“That’s not really…” I couldn’t breathe. “That’s not a choice.”
West’s plush lips quirked. It was like a dark, twisted version of my night with Grayson, of the moment that started this all. Once again I was insurance for a plan I wasn’t sure I could pull off, but this time if I failed, our happily ever after would shatter at our fingertips.
Evil. West du Lac was evil.
He grinned like I’d caught him.
“I…” I whispered. “Can I have a few days to think about it?”
He turned my face back to the mirror and embraced me from behind, pulling my empire waist dress flush against my body, exposing my baby bump for the world to see. He pressed his lips to my neck and nausea swamped me at his silent threat to what would happen if I didn’t obey him. “You can have tonight.”
I bowed my head out of the town car, like Josephine had done only a few weeks earlier. It was hard to imagine just two weeks ago this place was raging with snow that had kept away the paparazzi and glitterati now swarming its front steps and gates.
I could already imagine the giant pine tree inside, gleaming satin-wrapped presents underneath.
“Mr. du Lac!” a paparazzo called, but who exactly was impossible to tell. The cameras were a thousand glittering fairies.
He ignored them, wrapping his arm around mine and leading me toward the steps. I looked one paparazzo dead in the eyes.
Just a few weeks ago I would have given anything to be forgotten by them…so why did my gut twist at the thought?
I could faintly hear the sound of Christmas bells, laughter, and music as we got closer to the doors. The Holidays—this time without any blizzard to stop it. Two servants were waiting to open the doors in the chilly, wet winter cold. Dressed in their finest holiday best of red and green, and sporting the little Santa hats that Tansy made everyone wear.
They always itched and had to be painfully bobby-pinned.
My eyes slashed to the side, to the shadows Grayson and I had slunk into when Josephine had made this very same entrance. Our bodies were a wispy memory in the snow, shimmering like a mirage.
My heart pounded loud in my chest, each thump whispering one name.
Grayson.
Two weeks without contact, two weeks to worry.
Grayson.
Two weeks to wonder if I had ruined everything.
Grayson.
We stopped just before the double doors, but this time they didn’t lead into a midnight Scotland castle. Instead, the golden-hued world of Crowne Hall awaited me.
And Grayson.
The longer I stared down the golden hall, the more it stretched and warped with the plastic smiles of the rich elite. My heart stood on a precipice, waiting for the one smile I’d missed like air.
West snatched my chin between his hands, dragging my eyes to his. “Ready, Angel?”
His brown eyes dug into mine.
Was I ready for this? To commit to how many months without a voice. Months where I might have to sleep in the bed of my villain, to save my hero.
Grayson said if there was even a one percent chance of failure, he’d make us do it his way. If there was even a hint that West was hurting me… Would he really be okay with this? But I would do so much more if it meant I could give Grayson and our child the happily ever after they deserved.
I took a breath, then nodded. West dropped my chin, and we entered Crowne Hall.
I just hope Grayson can forgive me.
Ten
STORY
My heart leapt at each new voice or footstep.
“Oh, hey Grayson, long time.”
I jumped out of my skin, jerking to the side to follow West’s gaze. But there was nothing, no one there, just more partygoers dressed in their finest black tie.
“You’re transparent, Angel.” He laughed.
I fought the urge to grab the nearest server carrying out the used small forks and stab him in the neck.
“Westley du Lac!” West turned his attention away from me as someone who looked to be his father’s age approached him. He clasped West’s right hand in a forceful handshake, barely glancing in my direction, and they proceeded to talk.
I was once again an outsider looking in. No one paid attention to me, the girl at West’s side.
Seen, but not heard.
I could barely see anything, the veil was so opaque. My world was flushed in colors of silver and white. Occasionally people glanced at me, like the man speaking with West, but no one gave any mind to why a girl would be so covered up.
Thanks to people like Lady Gaga, this wasn’t weird.
It was fashion.
As West and the man droned on, I looked for Grayson, and I thought reckless things. All around me, people were on their phones. Taking selfies next to the six-foot-high present pile, or the croquembouche expertly designed to look like a Christmas tree with ornaments.
I wondered how easy it would be to just…snatch one. My gaze traveled back to the croquembouche, stomach growling.
Fuck.
I was starving and I had to pee. I always had to pee now.
How disgusting was it that the only question I was relegated was How may I serve you?
What if I have to go to the bathroom?
What if I need something to eat?
Just like that, I was once again thrust back to the beginning. Holding in my pee, stomach growling, at the service of one cruel boy. Unlike Grayson, West didn’t bring me spaghetti, he didn’t notice my stomach growling.
He didn’t put blankets on me at night.
If you need anything, tell me.
Because the truth was, no matter West’s pretty words, Grayson wanted all my words, and West only wanted my silence.
The man talking to West left, and I looked around to be sure no one was watching or could hear me. “I’m hungry.”
His eyes narrowed, as if trying to read my thoughts.
Finally, as someone else approached him, he said, “Then go eat, Angel.” But as I was leaving, he grabbed my bicep and pulled me back, hissing in my ear, “But don’t forget who you belong to.”
“I won’t.”
Grayson.
Always Grayson.
He let me go with a harsh shove, and I made my way to the long, glittering gold table. All around me, beautiful rich boys with perfect white smiles laughed and flirted with girls who hid theirs behind sparkling champagne glasses.
But not the one boy I wanted.
Not the one who saved his smile just for me.
I munched on truffles that left thick, bitter chocolate residue on my tongue, and had a vision of Josephine at a very similar table, in a very similar dress, not too long ago. I ate slowly, prolonging the moment, scanning the ballroom for a sign of Grayson—a phone.
Alone, it shone at the end of the table under the chandelier light in its diamond case, practically begging me to take it. I assumed it belonged to one of the two women at the end of the table. They swayed and laughed loudly—drunk.
I’d never stolen anything before, but I found myself sliding down the table to the edge. I slid my hand forward, eyes on its owner’s exposed back, slowly pulling it toward me—
“Notice how Grayson is missing?” one said through a mouthfull of truffle.
I froze.
“It’s kind of hard not to!” her friend responded, then she lowered her voice. “Do you think the rumors are true?”
“No way. That would be insane. Could you imagine? But…” the first crooned. “It would be hot, if true. He’s like Crowne Hall’s own broody, Byronic ghost.”
Her friend groaned. “Okay, so, like, you’re still sleeping with your English professor.”
“I mean, a grade’s a grade—”
I didn’t realize how close I was until they turned to get more truffles and froze, eyes wide on me, our noses nearly touching. I quickly shoved my hand behind my back, hiding the phone.
“Um…” The one sleeping with her professor narrowed charcoal-lined eyes, trying to see me through the veil. “Can we help you?”
What happened? Where is Grayson?
I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. They both shared a look, lifting their champagne off the table with ease before walking away on a shared laugh. “The fuck was her problem?”
I didn’t know how long I had until one of them realized their phone was missing. I glanced at West, still busy with the man. I had so many questions, so much I wanted to say to Grayson. What happened while I was gone? Are you okay?
Dear Atlas, where are you? I’m downstairs, I’m home—
No sooner had I sent the message, then the phone was snatched out of my hand.
“Give that back,” I said instantly, without thought, reaching for it. My eyes collided with brown, with a color I dreaded more than the twisting grip on my wrist.
The eyes of Arthur du Lac.
“Ahh!” I cried out, as he yanked my arm into a painful and unnatural position.
“You are poorly trained.”
“I’m not a fucking dog.”
“Very poorly trained,” he murmured. His grip twisted and I swallowed a cry, as he looked at the phone casually. Luckily I’d already signed out of my profile.
Arthur’s meaty thumb pushed into my wrist bone another second, then he dropped me. I let out a breath, my wrist throbbing—Shit.
West.
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“You gave this to her?” Arthur asked, raising the phone. My heart pounded against my ribcage, waiting for West to give me up to his father.
West clenched his jaw. “Of course.”
Something passed between them.
Unsaid.
I rubbed my wrist as West wrapped his arm around my waist. Arthur focused on me, and for the first time all night I was glad for the opaque veil.
“Your mistress could use better training,” Arthur said.
“We had to rush it.”
Arthur made a sound of understanding in his throat. “I can help with that.”
West’s grip on my waist tightened, barely. “We’ll see.”
West steered me away from his father, down near the croquembouche. I could feel Arthur’s eyes on us.
West stopped in a small alcove, and nerves fluttered in my chest. From the angle, only West could be seen. I was hidden from the party, hidden from anyone who might think to stop what came next.
“West—”
West gripped my wrist, yanking me to him. “Don’t go near my parents if I’m not around—don’t even stand in the same room with them. Got it?”
My brow furrowed. “Why do you care?”
West stared at me, a look too close to concern on his features. His grip loosened on my wrist, and he turned it over, examining the flesh.
“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”
Why do you care?
West drew an arc with his thumb along my flesh, and traitorous shivers rose in its wake.
“Story, I—”
West broke off, his touch gone, as he went flying into the croquembouche.
Shrieks sounded, socialites scattered to get out of the way. My heart stuttered. Halted. Stopped completely.
Grayson.
“Where the fuck is she?”
“Grayson.” West brushed a flake of frosting off his suit. “They let you out?”
Let him out?
Grayson lifted his head, searching for me among the gathered crowd. I stepped forward, out of the alcove, certain Grayson would recognize me, see me even behind the veil. Even still, I raised a hand to lift the gauzy material. So maybe that’s why I was pulled away, pulled deeper into the crowd, and hidden behind another man.
Destroyed Destiny (Crowne Point Book 4) Page 5