Stolen Soulmate

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  “Apologize?”

  “Hmm…but I don’t know what I did.” She rolled her lips, eyes back on me. “Maids hear all our dirty secrets. Why would Playboy Gray get mad when he hears his nickname?”

  I lifted my eyes, stupidly, foolishly, to see Grayson watching us very intently. A cigarette in his hand glowed like a firefly in the night.

  She shook her head. “Never mind! I don’t know what I’m saying. Too much Cristal. Ignore me.”

  “Maybe it hurt his feelings,” I said quietly.

  “Grayson?” She laughed, the idea so ridiculous. Still, she watched him. For so long, I thought she might go to him.

  But after a moment, she said, “It was nice talking to you again.”

  “Wait!”

  I dug out the green pen I’d saved to give to Grayson. “Give him this.”

  Lottie and Grayson were always supposed to have the happily ever after.

  She gave me an odd look but took it. “Thank you…?”

  “Story.”

  “Thank you, Story.” She smiled and left, going back to join her friends against the railing.

  I don’t know why I gave it to her. I don’t know why I even saved it to give to him. But she should be the one to give it to him.

  Not me.

  Still, I couldn’t help but notice she’d treated me like an equal. Couldn’t help but be warmed by the realization.

  And as if fate heard, moments later, a shoulder slammed into my back, and I stumbled forward, catching myself on a fake baby shark tank—wait, no—real? I shouldn’t have been surprised. They were using diamonds as napkin weights, and I’d seen some guy open a beer with an iPhone.

  I’d barely steadied myself when a hand ripped me away.

  “It’s the virgin servant girl.” He was like everyone else here, suit rolled up, handsome yet someone I wouldn’t want to be alone with. Perfectly handsome, no sign of imperfection in his bone structure or on his skin. Lips full, cheekbones sharp, eyes lazy, inky black hair soft, shiny, and messy.

  He was Grayson’s other friend, Geoff.

  “You still got your cherry?” he asked.

  “She’s been with Grayson for more than two hours, so no,” a voice from the crowd yelled, and laughter followed.

  “Step the fuck off, Geoff,” Gray called out, leaning forward, eyes glowing on me like a tiger through his champagne-wet hair.

  The boat hushed.

  “But we’re all really damn curious about this snack you’re bringing with you everywhere, Gray.” Geoff tightened his grip on me, twisting me closer.

  Gray eyed me. “She’s nobody.”

  “A nobody you threatened our death with…okay. Is her pussy that good?” He raked his eyes over me. It didn’t matter my clothes covered me from neck to wrist to toe.

  I looked at Gray, praying he’d intervene. His eyes slimmed on me; then Gray shoved the model off his lap, and she fell awkwardly onto the yacht’s leather seats.

  “This is what separates people like me from you,” Gray said. “I don’t care if it’s dog shit. If it’s on my property, ask before you step on it.”

  I was dog shit in this scenario…

  Cool.

  Geoff wrapped his arm around me, thrusting me to him. “Not usually a fan of Gray’s sloppy seconds, but I can make an exception.”

  Someone in the crowd laughed. “Your nickname at Rosey was Secondhand Gray.”

  “Fuck off,” he said absently, before narrowing back on me. “I’m curious why Prince Gray stamped his name all over your pussy.”

  He closed his eyes, leaning forward, as if to kiss me. I leaned as far back as I could in his vise grip. His lips inched closer and closer, and I pulled away, back biting harshly into the table, jostling the diamond paperweights. I prepared for the worst.

  Then Geoff was yanked back by his shoulder and flew—literally flew—against the yacht’s white railing. It all happened so fast, I caught only the aftermath.

  “What the fuck?” Geoff yelled, holding his nose as blood spurted between gaps in his fingers. “All I did was touch her.”

  Gray wrung out his hand, looking totally put out. “I think I made it pretty clear, if anyone so much looks in her direction, you die.” In a split second, his cool demeanor vanished, and he gripped him by the collar. “Does your dad like working at Crowne Industries?”

  “Uh…”

  Gray’s grip became a vise, pulling him closer. “How’s that coke habit working for him? Probably not as good as his love of jailbait.” Geoff’s eyes widened. “Touch her again, see what happens.”

  Gray dropped Geoff with a slam to the deck. The dick ice sculpture jostled and fell, shattering into chunks of ice on the maple floor.

  For the first time all night, Grayson looked at me.

  I had to say something. “Thank you.”

  Gray stepped to me, forcing me against the railing he’d just bloodied his friend on. Beyond him the ocean raged iron blue, brackish and unusually cold for summer.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Do you think I did that for you, Snitch?” he growled. “Do you think I give a single shit about you?”

  He gripped my waist, pulling me close, and slid his palm along my back, over my ass, gripping.

  “We’re in public.”

  Maybe they couldn’t hear what he was saying over the music, but his actions were crystal clear.

  “Didn’t stop you last night.” His voice was cold against my ear. “I saw the look in your eyes this morning. You’re like every other girl out there. You want me. You’re brazen about it. If I stuck my hand between your thighs, you wouldn’t stop me.”

  He probed me from behind, through the thick fabric of my pleated black skirt. I looked around us, along the massive yacht. At his peers just waiting for Grayson to confirm everything that Geoff thought I was: a nobody for these somebodies to use and play with.

  Finally, I made eye contact.

  His breath warmed my lips when he spoke. “You’re disgusting.”

  Hurt slammed into my chest, but I wouldn’t let him see. He took a step back, as if to leave me with that. Leave me to feel worthless.

  “I feel sorry for you.” I whispered my venom. “You don’t have any friends. Not really. They think your favorite food is steak, and they’ve never seen the inside of your wing. Everyone wants a piece of you, but no one could give a shit who you are.”

  Anger, and something else, flashed. “What the fuck do you mean they think my favorite food is steak?”

  Fear battled with adrenaline. I was calling Grayson Crowne out on his shit, and if he wanted to toss me over the ship, leave me to drown, none of these perfectly beautiful people would bat their eyelash extensions.

  “You’re afraid to tell the girl of your dreams you love her. I feel so, so sorry for you. You’re so fucking lonely, Grayson Crowne, that friendship feels like a trap.”

  “Do you think you’re my friend, Snitch? You’re nothing to me in private; you don’t exist to me in public.”

  “Liar,” I breathed.

  He froze, eyes hard.

  I couldn’t say all my words. That in private, behind closed doors, in the dark…he needed me. We’d started to need each other. It took all my strength just to look at him. So I settled on the one word I could get out.

  My mouth was dry, my heart pounding.

  I dragged my lip between my teeth to hide the tremble. Even though I wished I wasn’t, I was scared. This world was harsh and cruel like an icy tundra, and no amount of living as a ghost around them had prepared me for when they would finally notice me.

  Gray’s hooded eyes dropped to my lips, then lazily, slowly, so slowly, he found my eyes. I knew I should look down. It was growing impossible not to look him in the eyes. Yet there was something smoldering in his stony blue eyes. A heat I knew was impossible—insane—because there was no way he wanted to kiss me.

  Not after calling me disgusting.

  After saying I was nothing.

  B
ut when I licked my lips, his jaw tensed, and he took the smallest step toward me.

  Then a scream sounded, a splash following soon after.

  “Lottie!” Aundi screamed. “Lottie just fell off the boat!”

  Grayson jerked his head toward the scream.

  “And?” The douche I recognized as Khalid, the one who’d tried to gamble for me, said. “Does she not know how to fucking swim?”

  Across the boat, Khalid leaned forward on a table, doing a line of what looked like cocaine.

  Without missing a beat, Grayson spun from me, pushing through the crowd to where Lottie had been. He stepped over the table where Khalid was, leaving a footprint in his cocaine, to the leather seat, until he stood atop the railing, wind whipping his blond hair.

  He tore off what remained of his shirt, diving off the back of the boat. Disappearing after Lottie with a splash.

  A few interested parties leaned over the edge, and some pulled out phones. The rest were on me, eyes glittering. The one shark stopping the others from eating me had just jumped off the boat.

  Twenty-Three

  STORY

  * * *

  There was a sea of people between me and the exit, and their expressions all held some kind of wicked promise. Geoff had somewhat cleaned up his nose, but the skin around his mouth and philtrum was stained strawberry, and his eyes were bruised, both the skin and the intent behind them.

  I sank against the railing.

  “Come on, I’ll get you out of here.”

  I jumped at the voice, looking to my left. Westley du Lac smiled back at me. His tie hung loosely off his neck, and a few buttons were undone from his white dress shirt, showing a smooth, hazelnut chest.

  I looked back at the sea of hate, preferring that to him.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough to see Grayson punch his best friend’s face because he touched you.” He leaned closer, full lips grazing my ear. “Long enough to know if you don’t come with me now, you’re in deep shit.”

  I made a face. “I think I’ll choose shit.”

  West laughed. Fuck. I all at once hated and missed that laugh. A full-bodied, confident, cocky thing that had ensnared me like bramble.

  West entwined my arm with his and I stiffened, trying to pull mine out. “I don’t want your help.”

  “You want his?” He raised a brow at Khalid. “Or hers?” He angled his chin at Aundi. My gut sank deeper and deeper. “Angel, this is my world. Take my help.”

  “Don’t fucking call me that.”

  But I swallowed my pride and used West as a shield. I kept my eyes down as he pushed our way through the crowd. A den of hissing snakes barely kept at bay by Westley du Lac.

  The minute we got to the ramp, I ripped my arm from his. Night sea air blew in my hair, and a few feet away, safely on the dock, were Lottie and Gray. Grayson pushed away Lottie’s wet braids, and a smile lit up her face.

  Ouch.

  I didn’t like her smile.

  I didn’t like him touching her.

  I really didn’t like that he’d left me alone, with my only option West.

  I shook out of it, all but sprinting down the bouncy ramp, off the boat, and to the dock.

  I should’ve been happy. The closer they get, the closer I get to my debt repaid. I was one step closer to ending this weird thing between us.

  “That’s it?” West called at my back, his heavy footfalls slamming into the ramp. “No thank you?”

  “I’ll send you a card,” I muttered.

  He laughed, running to catch up to me. “Are you going after him?”

  “Stop following me,” I said.

  “Story, come on, let me explain.”

  I stopped, but only because Lottie and Gray looked about to kiss, and my heart was cracking like glass. I spun away from the image.

  “Why now, West? Because for four years you haven’t cared at all about me, and now suddenly I’m all you can think about.”

  He ran a knuckle down my cheek. “You’ve been all I can think about for four years. I tried contacting you, but you must have changed your number.”

  I definitely hadn’t changed my number. Hadn’t changed anything. Was still the same girl he’d once asked for a light, working in the same spot.

  “I heard what you said about me,” I said. “The maid whose V-card you got.”

  He dropped his hand. “What did you hear?”

  “All of it.”

  “I was a different guy then, Story. It was a stupid bet.”

  Bet.

  I didn’t know that part of the story.

  Everything was a bet. My virginity was just a bet. My love was just a bet. My heartbreak, confusion…

  When we’d had sex, I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want it. But I didn’t say no. I’d tried to make my intentions clear by pushing him away, by not kissing him back, by saying words like wait and can we slow down and I don’t think I’m ready…but in the end…I didn’t say no, and he didn’t ask for my yes. I should’ve been mad, right? I should’ve hashtagged his ass or something, but I just kept hoping he would call me.

  And it was all over a fucking bet.

  “A bet.” I repeated the words, the answer to the question that had haunted me for four years. Why did he leave? Why didn’t he respond to my texts? It was all just a bet.

  “What did you win?” My voice was dead, too low.

  “Story…”

  “Just wondering what I’m worth,” I said, mouth thick and cottony. “I think you at least owe me that.”

  West rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “Bragging rights.”

  I opened then closed my mouth. I wasn’t sure there was any right answer to my question, but that was definitely the wrong one.

  “Congratulations,” I said, numb.

  I turned to leave, but he grabbed my elbow, yanking me back.

  GRAY

  * * *

  Lottie’s emerald-green dress was soaked black, and she shivered. I gripped her forearms, rubbing, trying to get her warm.

  “I’d give you my jacket,” I said to Lottie. “But, uh…” I gestured at my shirtless body.

  “You jumped in and saved me,” Lottie said, eyes wide.

  I paused, hands still on her forearms.

  “Should we acknowledge the elephant in the room?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know if it’s that big—”

  Lottie rolled her eyes. “I hurt your feelings earlier.”

  I let her go, dragging a hand through my hair, getting the wet strands out of my eyes. I wasn’t about to admit that, but I couldn’t deny it, either, so I let the faded sounds of the yacht above us fill the silence.

  “I didn’t think Grayson Crowne had feelings,” she said. “There’s a lot of things I got wrong about you.” She pushed the remaining wet strands of hair out of my face, palm lingering. “I want to know you. The real you. Is steak still your favorite food?”

  They think your favorite food is steak, and they’ve never seen the inside of your wing. Everyone wants a piece of you, but no one could give a shit who you are.

  Our eyes locked, when just beyond her, on the dock, I spotted two blurry figures. West talking with Story, going so far as to run a knuckle down her cheek. My stomach tightened at the action.

  No one can touch her.

  No one.

  “Grayson?” Lottie asked, and I looked back. “Did you hear what I said?”

  I rubbed my neck and shook my head.

  She stepped toward me until our chests were practically touching. “I said I think our parents are going to push this wedding, whether we want it or not.”

  All my attention was back on her, voice firm. “I won’t force you to marry me.”

  Even though I knew I had little, if any, power in this.

  She smiled softly. “It could be worse…”

  I brought her hands into mine. “I’ll be a good husba
nd, Lottie. I want to marry you. You’ve always been it for me.”

  She looked over her shoulder at what I’d been looking at, then back at me. “Are you sure?”

  “Since that day at Rosey.”

  She worked her mouth. “We were babies then. What if you don’t like me now? How can you be sure?”

  “Lottie, I—”

  I broke off. West grabbed Story, yanking her to his chest.

  Was she fucking kissing that chode?

  Fireworks popped overhead, sounding a bit too much like my angry, beating heart.

  “We haven’t kissed since that day, either,” she said lightly.

  “How does your brother know Snitch?” I snarled.

  “Who?”

  “Uh, my…maid.”

  Her eyes followed mine. “Oh…I don’t know. I didn’t know they knew each other.” Her eyes narrowed on mine.

  I dropped Lottie’s hands and took a step back onto the dock. “We’ll finish this later. Go get dry. I promise I won’t force it, Lottie.”

  “I know…” She moved her mouth like she was trying to suppress more words, then said, “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the party.”

  “You’re going to go get her, the servant you’re always with, the one you throw punches for.”

  I stopped, foot almost on the dock.

  I scratched the back of my head.

  “You should. My brother’s an asshole.”

  She watched me as if she saw something I couldn’t, then turned and walked toward the beach.

  I stared a moment after her.

  I suddenly couldn’t think. Itchy.

  I went to yank her out of West’s hold, but she shoved him off first. Now I was behind Story, only an inch between us, her head just below mine. I felt like her protector. I liked it too much. I itched to hit West for no other reason than the anger coming off her.

  “You are all the same,” Snitch’s voice shook. What did this fucker do to make her voice shake? I tightened my fist, the barely scabbed knuckle breaking open.

  West caught my eyes, glaring.

  Well fucking bring it on. This asshole was the worst kind. The snake-in-the-grass kind. The assholes I hung out with? Total fuckers. But they wore their poison as stripes on their skin for everyone to see. You didn’t kiss those frogs without knowing you were going to die.