“Champagne, sir.” A server appeared with a tray of golden liquid in a thin flute of crystal.
I waved him away.
Worst fucking timing.
“I called off the wedding, Story,” I repeated.
She shook her head.
The silencing tapping of crystal filled the air like wind chimes, and we both looked to see my mother and Lottie in the center of the room.
“Toast!” my mother said cheerfully, raising her glass.
The dread grew and knotted.
I closed my eyes.
Fuck.
“To a Christmas wedding,” Mrs. du Lac said.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“To the future Mr. and Mrs. Grayson Crowne.”
Cheers rang out, crystal clanked, and everyone shouted for me and Lottie—my future wife. I briefly caught Lottie’s eyes, miserable and broken.
“This is so fucked up,” Story whispered.
My mother’s eyes locked with mine, a tight, satisfied smile on her lips.
Why hadn’t I seen it coming? It was classic Tansy Crowne, vintage Beryl. They don’t give in that easily. They never declared check-mate. They would throw the board out and place their pawns exactly where they needed them to be.
When I looked back, Story was halfway to the door.
“Story, wait!”
I ran after her, grabbing her.
“You have to believe me,” I said. “I didn’t do this.”
“I can’t keep watching you choose her,” Story cried. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep being the girl behind the girl.”
“Let me prove it to you.”
I shoved cake off one of the tables. Million-dollar rings that would go home as party favors clacked to the ground. Diamonds skittered across the marble floor. And the room went silent. I climbed atop the table, shoes smashing into frosting. Then I bent down, giving Story my hand.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes were wide, darting around the room.
“Choosing you.”
I didn’t give her a choice this time, ripping her up on the table with me. I pressed her against my body, anchoring her lower waist.
“Everyone came here for an announcement?” I yelled.
Tansy’s nostrils flared, the only sign of displeasure she’d show in public. Lottie sank into the book stacks, putting a hand over her face. I hated doing this to her, hated that our parents had left me with no choice. We were puppets to them, and they were trying to cast our strings in steel.
“Looks like you got the wrong information. Weird.” I glared at my mother. “She’s who I choose. When I get married, it’ll be to her.”
I gripped Story’s face between my palms, then whispered against her lips so only she could hear.
“I want to kiss you, Story. I want the whole fucking world to know you’re mine. I want it cast in stone.”
“What are you waiting for?”
I slammed my lips against hers. Apologizing with a gentle tongue, demanding her forgiveness with bruising teeth and lips.
Atop a table of broken cakes and promises, at an engagement party that never should have been, surrounded by the bright flash of paparazzi, I kissed my real love, my true love.
We broke apart, foreheads pressed, and I grinned against her lips. “Forever and always, I choose you, Story.”
Fifty
GRAY
* * *
Story asleep in my bed, on my chest, this was something I could get used to. I traced small patterns on her shoulder blade, thinking of the night before.
I shouldn’t have taken your virginity that way. I shouldn’t have ghosted you.
I should be mad. From the very beginning, I’d only asked for one thing, not to lie, and she’d lied about being a virgin. But that…didn’t feel like a truth I was owed. It was one I wanted to earn.
That was the truth between her and West. He was a fucker, a cockhead, who’d ghosted her after taking her virginity.
So I’m not mad, I’m…hurt? Hurt she couldn’t trust me?
Fuck.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand to my left, and my grandfather’s name popped up.
I’m downstairs. Come now, or I’ll go upstairs and wake her.
I slid out of bed, making sure Story stayed asleep, and descended the stairs, finding him in my study. He was behind a desk I rarely, if ever, used, facing a large, golden-latticed window with a view of my private beach.
“You really shouldn’t sleep with the bride before the wedding,” he said coldly.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the papers by now.”
“I have,” he nodded, turning around. “Have you? The great thing about marrying a du Lac is we get to decide what they say…”
I folded my arms over my naked chest, glowering.
“I’m not marrying Charlotte du Lac,” I said. “Sorry if my message last night wasn’t clear enough.”
My grandfather’s jaw twitched. “Bad joke, Grayson.”
“I’m marrying Story Hale. She’s a servant—”
“I know who she is!” he all but screamed.
I shut the door behind me, hoping I hadn’t woken Story. Rarely had I seen my grandfather lose his composure. He was stone, even when facing the potential collapse of Crowne Industries.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” I said. “You can’t excommunicate me like you did with Uncle and Abigail. Who will run the company? Who will give you heirs?”
“You’re just like your fucking father,” he hissed underbreath. “Always thinking with your dick.”
“I am nothing like him. He didn’t have the balls to say no to you.”
“Just like him, you’ll listen when I say you are not special because you came from your mother’s twat. Who will give me heirs? Your sister? The bastards? The nieces and nephews? Who will run the company?” Grandfather placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward. “There are two bastard twins in boarding school who spend every summer and vacation at the company. You know how it goes.”
I’d been prepared for this eventuality the moment I chose Story.
“So kick me out. I don’t give a shit. Destroy me. Destroy everything. I’m done being your monkey.”
“And that’s what will happen. You must realize how untenable your situation is, Grayson. Without your inheritance, who is going to pay for her uncle’s medical bills?”
I ground my jaw. I hadn’t thought of that.
Grandpa stood back up, suddenly the picture of composure. “Where will he live without you allowing him to stay?”
“We’ll find somewhere.” Though a niggle of doubt sewed my words together.
“Stop thinking with your cock. Don’t make the same mistake as your sister. Don’t give everything up for someone who doesn’t care about you.”
I laughed. “What do you know about it? That girl asleep in my bed is the only one who has ever given a damn about me.”
My grandfather put a finger to his mouth, nodding, as if really thinking about my words. I knew better. I knew he was only formulating his next argument.
“Really? That girl up there is a user, Grayson. Her mommy taught her how to lie for years, threatening honest men with rape. What’s stopping her from saying you did the same? When this goes south, will you be a rapist too?”
She’d lie, have me lie, say I’d go to the cops and tell them they raped me.
It was. But I paid for it.
I saw fucking red.
I slammed my fists on the table. “Shut your fucking mouth. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
My grandfather’s face curled in a sneer. “Spoiled fucking brats!” He stood up, slamming his hands next to mine on the table, until we were both eye to eye.
“I gave you everything,” he shouted. “This is how you repay me? Your sister fucks off with a guard and now you want to marry a servant? I couldn’t stop Abigail. I won’t fucking let it happen to you. You won’t ruin my name. You won’t ruin a family I spent years b
uilding.”
His hair fell across his eyes in his anger, face red. It was such a rare occurrence to see Beryl Crowne undone, like seeing my mother anything but placid.
He fixed his hair, sat back down, like he hadn’t just combusted.
“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” he asked lightly. “I know false accusations are taken seriously by the police, as is blackmail and stealing. She could get into a lot of trouble for the lies she’s told.”
I’d tell them I was their daughter. They’d pay us off not to ruin their family. Other times it was darker…
“She was a child. No one will prosecute that.”
He laughed. “District Attorney Millard owes me more favors than he can count. I’d say, fifteen years’ worth, at least.”
I made a fist so tight my nails dug into my palm.
For years I’d carried the weight of this asshole’s greed.
I wasn’t surprised by his threat. I was pissed at myself for not seeing it coming.
“We have a very generous mistress package, Grayson. I don’t give a shit what happens to her so long as you marry du Lac. Keep her as your mistress, deport her to Switzerland—whatever, just make sure she doesn’t get pregnant.”
I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, keep her as a mistress. Even if she got hit on the head and decided she wanted to be mine.
Which meant Story and I were finished.
“I’ll send her back to the servants,” I said.
My grandfather froze. “That’s funny. So she can tell them Cinderella stories? No. She needs an official title as mistress, and we can start the damage control.”
“And if she doesn’t want to be my mistress?” I hedged.
“She is done living here. Though, I would hurry and decide…” Grandfather said absently. “I think Lottie is arriving soon.”
STORY
* * *
I woke up alone in Grayson’s bed, and for a soft, cottony moment, was happy. Then I opened my eyes and saw the person at the foot of the bed. I scrambled to pull the sheets against my chest.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Tansy asked.
She smiled warmly at me, looking so elegant in her white dress and blood-red shoes.
My face flamed. “I…no…”
“Grayson is preparing for the arrival of his fiancée.”
There was a song we sang in elementary school to annoy our teachers. The song that never ends…it just goes on and on again. As Tansy smiled down at me from the foot of the bed, all I could think was, This is the nightmare that never ends…it goes on and on again.
“He told everyone last night. He loves me. He wants to marry me.”
“Oh, dear.” Tansy smiled, but it was vicious. Her pretty smile dripped oil. “History is written by those who own the pen, and we own the pen.”
She tossed a few papers at me.
Playboy Gray Has Eyes Only for His Future Wife.
Grayson Crowne Smitten with Charlotte du Lac.
“In the end, all that matters is who he marries. As I’ve said before, we have a very competitive mistress package. A house. A monthly stipend. Holidays. For someone like you, it’s more than generous.”
Mistress.
I couldn’t breathe. I mashed my lips together and stared at the sheets.
“We simply expect birth control and abortion, if necessary. Oh, and keep your mouth shut.” Anger bit off the last word.
“I don’t want to be a mistress,” I croaked.
“I didn’t want three ungrateful children and a philandering husband, but fate doesn’t take bribes.” She stepped on the sheets hanging off the bed, forcing me to grapple with them so I wasn’t exposed. “He isn’t Abigail. He has responsibilities. This ends no other way for you.”
Threat hung heavy and dark.
Then all at once she stepped off the sheets. “Oh, Lottie dear, perfect timing!”
I followed her eyes to where Lottie stood at the top of the stairs, with her two-toned cream-and-camel luggage behind her, hurt stamping her face. Tears in her eyes.
Our eyes locked. She looked just as surprised to see me as I her.
“It’s time to have a frank discussion,” Tansy said. “Which is, frankly, overdue.”
I’d never felt more like the other woman than at this moment, naked, stuck in his bed, as his future wife waited to move in.
“Ideally, the mistress and the wife should be on speaking terms. As the wife, you can set your own rules of order for her to follow.”
I stared at the sheets.
“Lottie?” Tansy probed.
“Yes?” Lottie croaked.
“Do you have any rules you’d like her to follow?”
“I…I need to sit down.” Lottie wobbled over to a couch, falling on it instantly.
“Of course, dear, you have time to think on them.” Tansy’s inflection was so easy, like we were discussing what we would get for lunch.
I couldn’t breathe.
Lottie looked like she was going to pass out.
Footfalls sounded, pounding, heavy things that echoed and boomed. A moment later, Grayson appeared on the stairs. His eyes darted around, taking in Tansy, Lottie, me, and doing it in reverse.
“What the fuck is happening?”
“Lottie is moving in,” Tansy said easily. “We’re discussing your mistress arrangements.”
A tear fell down Lottie’s cheek.
I loved Grayson. I’d been in love with him, but we could never be together.
What was I doing here?
I scrambled to get as much of the sheets as I could to cover myself, climbing off the bed and tripping as I did so.
“Story, wait,” Grayson started. “Let me…”
My eyes were stuck on Lottie. “I’m sorry, Lottie, I—”
I ran down the stairs.
I only made it to the hallway before I collapsed into a heap of tears. The marble floor seeped through the thin silk sheets, cold, abrasive. I wasn’t sure how long I sat like that, the sound of the waves outside muffled by the glass.
When suddenly thwack.
A thick stack of cash hit my thigh.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
More cash landed on me, between my thighs, on my shin, pelting me, covering me. More cash than I’d ever seen in my life, flying at me. I looked up, finding Grayson.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s twenty million dollars,” he said. “Get the fuck out and go. Never come back.”
I stared up at Grayson, speechless. He’d painted me in green, my only armor his sheets. It took a moment to swallow the tears in my throat, to speak through the hurt. He’d just thrown cash at me like I was nothing.
Like I was less than nothing.
“So that’s it?” I said, voice hoarse. “It’s really true? You’re marrying her and leaving me in the dust.”
His eyes were red but brutal.
“You promised you wouldn’t do this to me,” I said quietly. “Now not just everyone in Crowne Hall knows we’re together, but everyone in the fucking world. But they also know you’re marrying Charlotte. You didn’t take us out of the dark. You just shoved me deeper into the shadows. You made me your public mistress. You made me your dirty secret. You made me your lie. Why?”
He clenched his jaw. “Just go.”
“You’re a coward, Grayson Crowne. Afraid to show your insides. Afraid to be truly vulnerable. Afraid.”
“Me?”
He grasped my sheet, tearing me up until my back bent, and I was face-to-face with him. “How long have you been hiding, Story? Do you even remember what the real you looks like beneath all your armor?”
“You made me the mistress,” I spat. “You made me the liar. Why, why did you do this to us?”
His eyes fractured, and for a moment I saw Grayson. I thought maybe he would let me in, tell me how we got from last night to here.
Then his grip tightened. “I’ll give you double this, no, fucking quadruple it. Whatever you want, five
hundred million dollars right now to get out of my fucking life.”
Five hundred million dollars.
I couldn’t breathe by the amount.
“I-I can’t.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“You know why. There’s only one person in Crowne Hall who would let my uncle stay here. Only one person who gives a damn to let a dying man stay when he has no labor to offer.”
His grip tightened a fraction; then he shoved me away. I clasped at the sheets so they didn’t fall off me.
“Am I supposed to leave him and let him die here on his own?”
“You can visit him.”
“When? Crowne Hall has never been very open to visitors. I can’t imagine your family allowing me to visit whenever the hell I want.”
“I’ll make it happen,” he gritted.
“What if he gets worse while I’m away? Or dies? Of anyone you should know how important family is. You act like you don’t care, but you do. You know why I can’t leave him.”
He slammed his hands on either side of me. “You’re only here because I allow it.”
A rush of cold iced my spine.
Grayson Crowne.
Apathetic and entitled…cruel. Not the boy I’d fallen in love with.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I punched his chest, but he didn’t so much as stumble. “Why is everything different? Stop it. Stop it. Stop ruining everything.” I shoved his chest again. “I thought we were past this. I thought you were letting me in.”
I went to shove him again, and he gripped my wrists. My sheet fell to the floor exposing me, but his eyes were on me, and nothing save apathy stared back.
“Like you let me in? Like you promised you wouldn’t lie?” he whispered viciously. “You’re a virgin, huh?”
My mouth dropped.
“That’s…” Blood rushed through my ears. “It was before everything. It was before the contract.”
“How many other lies have you told, Snitch?”
“What if you thought less of me? What if—”
“You think that’s what this is about?” he boomed. “You think that’s why I cared? You think I want some shiny, untouched toy? How fucking little do you really think of me, Snitch? I thought you understood. I thought you got me.”
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