“You’re marrying me off?” I took a step back. “When? To who? Have I even met him?”
My mom waved her hand as if what I’d said was trivial. “Before the end of the summer.”
“This summer?” At my distressed face, behind our mother’s back, Gemma pushed out her bottom lip, pretending to pout for me.
“Fuck off, Gemma,” I said.
Gemma clutched her heart. “Mother, do you see how she speaks to me?” Behind our mother’s back she mouthed fuck you and gave me the bird.
“Enough,” my mother said without heat. “This shouldn’t be news to you, Abigail. Your grandfather has been working on this trade for years.”
“Yes, but—” I started, only to be cut off.
“We can’t afford your little…dalliances…ruining it.”
Gemma laughed. “That’s a nice way to look at them.”
“But—”
“We’re done talking about this, Abigail,” Mom said. “Why don’t you try following your sister’s example for once? She handles her engagement with grace.”
“And if I say no?” I tested.
My mother sipped her tea, my question not worth a response. Since Father’s death years ago, Crowne Industries had been untenable. Never mind what happened to our family—our father had been the glue holding an already dysfunctional unit together—the company was always the most important.
On the surface, we were billionaires who had it all. Beneath that veneer, we were barely sustained by my ruthless grandfather Beryl Crowne and my narcissistic mother, Tansy. We stayed afloat, because we did what they said.
Whatever they said—anything so we didn’t lose the crown, or Crowne, I should say.
I knew what would happen if I disobeyed. I’d end up like my uncle, the cautionary tale in our family for what happened when you disobeyed: penniless and excommunicated.
Over mother’s back, Gray blew me a kiss.
I ground my teeth. “I won’t disappoint you, Mother.”
Mom didn’t even bother hiding her incredulous laugh. Without another word, she went back to her book. Our conversation was over.
Maybe if I was someone else, I would’ve told Mom to screw off. It didn’t go over my head that she hadn’t even bothered to tell me whom I was marrying.
I wish I didn’t want my mother’s approval, but it was the one thing I wanted most in the world, and there were days I would do anything to get it. On those days, I tended to disappoint her most.
I watched her a moment longer, playing the conversation I wished would happen in my head.
I’m sorry, Mom.
That’s okay, because I love you, Abigail. No matter what you do, I will always love you.
After I’d stood there too long, Mother waved a hand for me to go.
I stopped just before the huge portrait of my father, Charles Crowne. He’d had a hard, square jaw and arresting reddish-brown eyes, and in certain lights, they looked purple. His eyes were the only thing I received from him, the only hint I might be a Crowne. He’d been gone for so long this was how I remembered him, in paintings and pictures.
“God, that was so much more satisfying than I imagined,” Gemma said to my back. “I think I came.”
“Oh, eat a dick, Gemma.”
“I would, Abby, but you’ve already gotten to them all. You’re the Pac-Man of dicks.”
It doesn’t count if it happens in Crowne Hall.
I spun around and raised my hand to throw one of my heels at Gemma’s head, but my hand froze midair, captive in someone’s grasp. When I looked over my shoulder, my knees buckled, and I nearly fell.
Theo.
Theo held me up by my wrist, unperturbed by the sudden weakness in my legs. I had questions…a lot of questions. Almost five years had passed since I’d last seen him in person. I’d seen pictures of him, but only in tabloids, and always in the back behind my grandfather, out of focused or cropped. Grandpa rarely visited our town of Crowne Point—and even more rarely so our home, Crowne Hall—which meant I never saw Theo.
Never saw the boy I’d saved.
The boy I’d loved.
“What are you doing?” I tried to yank my hand out.
He wouldn’t look at me.
It was a rule all servants and bodyguards followed, but it had never been one Theo had obeyed. Not with me.
He’d grown into his features, his jaw now square and hardened. His cheekbones so sharp they were almost hollowed. Thick, silky, lustrous brown hair fell over hazel-green eyes so clear they were like gemstones.
He was in a suit too.
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Theo in a suit. It was tailored perfectly to his tall, lean muscular build.
“Your poor bodyguard is already having to save your ass,” Gemma said.
“My—my what?” I stammered.
He still hadn’t released me, the blood draining beneath his touch.
Heat rose to my cheeks. I tried not to think about how it was Theo touching me and instead attempted to pull my arm from him. He held tight, fingers bruising.
I was above him. I shouldn’t be thinking about the delicious, spicy way he smelled, or his calloused touch. Did his voice still catch on a growl?
“You’re my bodyguard?” It came out on a whisper. “Why?”
But then Gemma laughed, Theo’s gaze snapped to her like a magnet, and I knew.
“Have fun with your new personal babysitter.” Gemma waved airy fingers over her shoulder, her laugh disappearing down the polished halls.
All at once he dropped me.
The heels I still carried clacked to the floor.
It was just me and Theo, alone.
I peeled my eyes from my manicured fingers.
Theo was watching me. I sucked in a breath. If I said something, I could get him fired. I was drawn to him, though. He looked at me with nothing in his crystal-clear green eyes save callousness. I picked at my blush nail polish, staring right back.
“Are you really my new guard?”
Aren’t there easier ways for him to get closer to Gemma? I wanted to ask.
Less… painful ways? For me.
The grandfather clock ticked away a full minute as I waited for him to respond. In the end, I caved.
“Are you back for me?” My words slid out as a confession.
Are you finally back?
He arched a dark, impassive brow. “What do you think?”
It wasn’t necessarily a no, but the way it was spoken made it clear it wasn’t a yes.
I’d waited years for Theo.
Five years I’d waited for a word from him, five years I’d yearned and tried to hate him, and only ended up hating myself.
In the end, this was how he came back, with more betrayal.
Down the hall paparazzi were being shuffled in by staff, getting ready for Gemma’s birthday party, one of the bigger parties this summer. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be in Crowne Hall, and I chewed my bottom lip.
Theo’s eyes narrowed on my lip right before I lunged at him, pressing my lips to his. Theo was stone beneath me, just like he’d been the night I’d kissed him, the night before he left.
He shoved me off, and I stumbled back.
Hurt ricocheted inside my ribs.
“I love when you tell me how hard you’re going to fuck me,” I yelled, eyeing the paparazzi.
Our eyes locked, the flashing of cameras reflecting in his glare, and then Theo gripped my wrist, yanking me out of their view into the ornate hall. I let him tug me down the hallway, our footsteps echoing.
The exterior of Crowne Hall was famous for its inky black shingles and castle-like spires; inside it was pearly white with gold trim. It was a darkly romantic aesthetic, black railings and white, matte walls with intricately cut molding, the occasional gilded accoutrement, and the inescapable smell of salt air.
“Grandpa will fire you when he sees the photos,” I said with a smile, masking my hurt in triumph.
I couldn’t let him know ho
w much power he still had.
Theo drew his thumb across his lush bottom lip, dragging it out in a distracting way, before ending on an exhale.
“Spoiled little princess… you know better. House paparazzi don’t publish anything without written approval.”
Hurt welled in my chest.
Where was my Theo? Did he ever exist? This heavy-lidded, gaunt, square-jawed imposter was just like everyone else now, seeing only my scars.
His pale eyes narrowed. “You have a party to get ready for, Ms. Crowne.”
He said my name with such venom it slid inside my blood and burned; then he grabbed my arm, tugging me toward my wing.
Gemma’s birthday party had been planned months before, but I couldn’t help but wonder, Would I meet my fiancé tonight?
“I can—” I yanked myself free. “I can walk.”
My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and his eyes dropped to the movement before sliding back up my neck. There was no heat in his gaze, just ice, and it burned in a different, more painful way. He raised a brow, slightly tilting his head toward the wing. I summoned all of my imperial, God-given Crowne right to raise my chin, and I walked past him.
Even though everything in me wanted to crumble.
Especially as I felt him behind me, like a hot, heavy shadow.
Theo Hound wasn’t like the other bodyguards in my grandfather’s employ. Once upon a time, he was mine. We were just teenagers then, but I found Theo. I kept Theo. I almost gave him my heart, but like everyone else, he chose my sister.
2
ABIGAIL
It was awkward and shadowy back in my wing. Theo hadn’t said a word, and I didn’t want to be the first one to break the silence. When I imagined our reunion, it was never like this, with another barbed wire kiss to shred us.
The last time we’d been together I’d kissed him. I was sixteen years old and head over heels in love with him. It didn’t matter he was eighteen and my grandfather’s protégé. Or that I could never be with someone like Theo, not without losing everything that made me a Crowne.
I’d kissed him.
Hours later I’d found him professing his love to my sister.
“You’re not supposed to look me in the eyes,” I muttered. The silence was killing me. I was Abigail Crowne, fire starter, scandal maker, the Wicked Bitch of the East Coast. I’d ruined reputations and destroyed lives, but a few minutes of silence with Theo and I was muttering like the schoolgirls had with Grayson.
Theo arched a brow. Slowly, deliberately, he trailed his gaze upward, landing on the petite crystal chandelier. Almost as if he was rolling his eyes at me.
I rolled my lips together, searching for pieces of myself Theo couldn’t take. I straightened my spine, folded my arms, and took a breath.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I said. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
His eyes flashed to mine, and heat seared my stomach.
I knew things about Theo.
Wicked things. Dirty, naughty words he’d whispered in my ear came drifting back, ghosting along my throat like his fingers.
“I—” A stutter threatened to erase the image. I swallowed, lifting my chin. “Stay out of my way, or you’ll end up back on the fucking streets, Theo. I brought you here; I can put you back.”
The words hurt me more than they did him, I think, because an almost-smile twisted his square jaw. He seemed to take up all the space in the room.
Outside, the crash of waves and trill of seagull caws amplified our silence. The sun was setting, and I knew I should be getting ready for Gemma’s party.
Theo walked across my room to the mini fridge hidden beneath discarded silk blouses and unmatched heels—Mother always said I was a mess even the maids couldn’t wrangle. He pulled out a water, and I was reminded again that Theo knew me, knew every hidden spot in my room and heart.
Theo had been in my room before, but I’d always snuck him in. Now my favorite pearly-pink couch had been replaced with a foldout—a foldout. I must have really fucked up to have my mother put such a thing in my wing.
He twisted the lid off the water, handing it to me. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
I took it warily. I didn’t want to be enemies with Theo. Sometimes I did things without thinking—most of the time. My heart was sore and bruised from him, but if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have kissed him.
Both times.
I took a sip of water. “Why are you here, Theo? Really?”
He tilted his head. “Truth or promise?”
My breath hitched.
Laughter echoed in my ear, salt air and summer nights, Theo and I curled together on the sand.
Play a game with me, Theo. Truth or promise?
Theo stepped closer, pulling me from the memory. Instinct had me shoving him away before he could get too close. He slammed large palms on either side of my head, grin stretching like a lion about to eat its prey.
“I’m here for you, Abigail.”
Why didn’t that put my stomach at ease?
Then all at once, he shrugged, stepping back. “The sooner you get your shit together, the sooner I’m back with your grandfather. I’m here to protect your and Crowne Industries’ image until your wedding day. Nothing else.” He folded his arms. “Even stunts like earlier aren’t going to deter me, Abigail.”
Until my wedding day. I swallowed a rock at his words.
I knew it was coming. I’ve been to all the other weddings. First it was my unmarried aunts, then it was my uncles, then they went for the cousins, and even the second-cousins, so on and so forth. Slowly we rebuilt our family on the unsuspecting backs of those who dared to rise above us, until we were back where we belonged: above them.
To date, the only one not forced into a marriage was, ironically, my mother.
Rationally, I know it’s not the end of the world. Gemma says when she gets married, she won’t move out. She’s already planning on forcing Horace to move in. Crowne Hall is big enough that they need only see each other for events. They’ll continue to sleep with whoever they want, as they already have been.
But I don’t want that life.
I’m stupid enough to want love.
I lifted my chin. “I want to be the best Crowne I can be.”
He gave me a look, and for a moment I thought he was going to call me out. There was a time when I’d told Theo all my deep dark secrets.
Like what I really wanted to do with my life, or how I hated myself for wanting to be better than my sister. How I wanted to be something, do something, more than be just a Crowne.
How I wanted my mom to love me more than anything.
He smiled, but it wasn’t the smile I knew. It was cruel, his pale eyes gleaming with something wicked beneath the shadow of his dark brow, and his plush lips curled.
It sent shivers down my spine.
“Like I said, Abs. I’m here to help.”
He’d used his old nickname for me, but there was no caressing lilt. If anything, he may have called me a bitch for all the warmth there was.
I narrowed my eyes. “Truth?” I asked, trying to use our old game, the one he’d just called upon moments before.
He shook his head. “Promise.”
I watched him a moment longer, as if he would suddenly break and reveal all his motives.
He didn’t.
So I left him in my newly finished en suite—his room.
I turned to shut my double doors, and right before they closed Theo’s black leather shoe slid between them. I stared at it, dumbfounded, and in that second Theo slammed open the left door.
“It stays open,” he said.
“I’m—I’m changing.” The absurdity of having to say it aloud had me stammering over my words. I hated that.
His eyes traveled a slow, cutting path down my body before coming back to me, bored. “And I’m not interested.”
I couldn’t so much as scoff before he turned, giving me h
is back. My fingers itched with the urge to pelt him with the nearest hard object at his head—a lilac-scented candle.
I didn’t have it raised for a second before Theo said, “Sure you want to do that?”
How did he know? He hadn’t so much as shifted. His shoulders were broad, his legs spread, his hands behind his back in the perfect bodyguard position.
I dropped it with a thud to my feathery white carpet.
Theo wasn’t my best friend anymore, that was for sure. He was a bodyguard through and through, and I was beginning to worry he wasn’t like the others I’d scared away.
He looked at his wrist and, like he knew I was still staring, said, “You have forty-five minutes.”
I straightened, going to my walk-in.
When I’d first found Theo, he’d had to sleep with the rest of the servants in the servant wing. No amount of pleading had changed Mom or Grandfather’s mind. It wasn’t proper. It wasn’t right. Now Theo definitely wasn’t the sixteen-year-old I found, and neither was he the eighteen-year-old boy who’d left me. He was a twenty-three-year-old man. Hard. Chiseled.
Dangerous.
And he was just outside my bedroom.
I swallowed, trying to focus on getting dressed.
My dress was truly fit for a princess. A sheer white boned bodice, dipping low with a sweetheart neckline and mother-of-pearls dotting the boned corset and falling like raindrops down the tiered tulle.
They called us royalty in our town, and we couldn’t afford to ruin the image.
I added my finishing touch: a teardrop pearl necklace hanging just above the lace sweetheart. I touched the soft pearl resting just above my cleavage, wondering if Theo still remembered this secret. This piece of myself I’d only ever told him.
I couldn’t completely finish dressing myself. The silky rose laces corseting the back of my dress were impossible to tie. Normally I had someone dress me, a girl who was just a year older than me. She was new to me and her name was Story.
So where the hell was she?
I called down to the servants’ wing.
“Busy?” I all but gasped. “What do you mean she’s busy?” I wasn’t like Gemma or Gray, who had entire legions attending to them.
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 184