Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  The muscles in Theo’s naked back were tight and coiled.

  I worked the soft sheets between my fingers.

  “It was you I wanted,” I continued. “Theo, it’s always been for a reason, from the very beginning.”

  He stood, diary in hand. His jaw was clenched so hard the muscle feathered. He came back to the bed, sitting on the edge. I sat up, resting my chin on his shoulder.

  “There’s nothing worth reading in here…” He held the diary out toward me, not quite giving it away. I waited on a heartbeat’s thread, hoping for something I was too afraid to even think.

  He feathered a caress along the edge of my cheek. His touch was too nice. Too sweet. Too addicting. You could almost forget the crash that followed such a high.

  My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached an arm out and grabbed it. An unknown number flared on my screen, followed by a picture of a single gold rose, and a promise: Can’t wait to see you.

  I dropped the phone, too shocked to pretend it was nothing. It fell loud and ugly to the floor.

  “Is that him?” Gone was Theo’s tender voice, in its place rough words that abraded my spine. My eyes flashed to his.

  I’d almost forgotten my stalker in our sweet bubble.

  “I just realized I don’t have your number—your new number,” I said, trying to deflect. I reached for his phone, putting my number in and then texting myself. “There. Everything is as it should be. Guess it’s easy to overlook when we’re always together.” I gave a shaky laugh.

  My deflection didn’t go unnoticed. “You don’t need to hide, Abs. I’m here to protect you. I’ve always been here to protect you.”

  “Not always,” I whispered.

  The bed was too hot, the sheets stuffy. I sat up, throwing the Egyptian cotton off and stretching. Warm Spanish air drifted in through the window, sliding along my shoulder blades.

  “He’s not like your other problems, Abigail. You can’t stuff him into a box and act like he doesn’t exist.”

  I dragged a nail along my thigh, hating his words, hating how he could always rip away my armor.

  “I know he’s one of you,” he said more softly.

  I looked over my shoulder, barely catching Theo’s eyes.

  The door to my wing opened and our tenuous connection snapped. I quickly dressed, throwing a threadbare pink sweater over a vintage Chanel skirt. If Theo and I were caught together, he’d be taken off my assignment. Nothing would happen to me, because as a Crowne it only mattered if I tried to love him, if I tried to marry him and be with him.

  And that wasn’t happening…

  Theo didn’t care. He slid languidly into his gray jeans, cavalierly putting on the same shirt he’d worn the night before.

  Gray was in the sitting room, leaning against the door.

  His blue eyes sparked with suspicion when he saw us, but all he said was, “We’re doing a DiCaprio tonight, you in?”

  My eyes lit up. “Really?”

  A DiCaprio was named after Leonardo DiCaprio from his scene in Titanic where Rose sneaks down into the basement. We would go out and party with the peasants—Gray’s words. Usually I wasn’t invited, because they never invited me to anything unless they had no choice.

  An uncontrolled bubble of excitement filled my chest.

  I heard Theo scoff beside me. He never approved of doing a DiCaprio, mainly because we usually left the “peasants” in some kind of trouble, whether it was emotionally or legally. Gray raised an eyebrow in his direction before landing back on me.

  “Unless you want to stay on this Spanish Alcatraz.”

  “No, no. I’ll meet you.”

  Gray nodded. “See you tonight by the pier.”

  I chewed my bottom lip so Gray didn’t see my smile. I could hardly contain my excitement. All I’d ever wanted was to be included.

  Theo blocked the door almost instantly after Gray left, arms folded.

  “You’re not going.”

  “Why do you get to tell me what to do?”

  He shifted, biceps, triceps, and deltoids flexing in a truly unfair way. “Because I’m your—”

  “Your what, Theo?” I interrupted.

  We still hadn’t labeled it, whatever this was. My bodyguard? My best friend? My bully? My boyfriend? Or simply nothing at all? Another long, pressure-filled minute passed.

  In the end, he never answered.

  I eyed the diary still in his hand. “Why are you hiding your mom’s diary from me?”

  “Why are you hiding your texts?” he countered.

  I narrowed my eyes. “It was a friend—the person who texted me.”

  He laughed, a harsh, barking noise. “Fuck off it was a friend. I’m not letting you out of this room, Abigail.”

  “That’s how it’s going to be?”

  Another agonizingly tempting flex of his arms, and this time he shifted, spreading his legs as if to say, Just fucking try getting by me.

  “Your safety is my first priority.”

  “I’m getting married. Does that bother you, Theo?” I asked. “I’ll belong to some stranger for the rest of my life.”

  I was poking at something perilous, but I couldn’t stop. I felt untethered and crazed. Theo’s jaw was so tight the muscle popped and flexed.

  “You’ll still need a bodyguard,” he gritted. “Day or night, I’ll be there.”

  I ground my teeth. Why did his response bother me? It’s how it should be.

  “You’ll listen to me fuck him?” I goaded. “Listen to me come?”

  Theo laughed. “You won’t come.” He grabbed my wrist, yanking me so I spiraled into the hard planes of his chest. “Only I can get this spoiled pussy off.”

  Before I can speak he shoves aside my panties, thrusting roughly inside me.

  One, then two fingers.

  I should pull away. This is the moment I should prove he doesn’t have the power he thinks he has. But dammit, I lean into him. I let myself melt into his chest and the worshipful yet brutal way he watches me.

  “I hate you,” I managed, even though inside I lived for his smoldering green-eyed gaze and the ruthless rhythm he worked inside me.

  He did something absolutely wicked with his fingers and I gasped, clinging to him as my knees literally weaken.

  He grinned. “Yeah, I can tell.”

  Theo curled inside me, pumping, pressing his thumb hard on my clit. He shows me the truth of his words with his touch. My pussy is marked by him, attuned, forever his; only he can make my soul glow. I’m on the edge, about to drop, when suddenly he stops.

  Steps away.

  I’m left aching and barely able to stand, and Theo is completely aware of what he’s done to me.

  I know, because his next words are, “Day or night, Abigail.”

  Theo’s grin is gone, and he’s put his arms behind his back, returning to his good bodyguard stance. His face is a complete fucking mask.

  I adjusted my skirt, swallowing my anger.

  “I’m going out tonight,” I said, hating how rough my voice was. “You’re my bodyguard, so you listen to me.”

  Theo seemed to think on that a moment, then turned from me, walking out of the room. He paused in the doorway, only to turn back and chuck his mother’s diary into the center of the room. “When you’re ready to stop telling lies, come find me.”

  He slammed the door shut.

  I felt awful. The one thing he kept locked tighter than his heart now lay split open on the floor. I picked it up, heart pounding, holding it with more care than a bird’s egg as I went to the door.

  “Theo, I’m sorry—” I broke off when the knob wouldn’t budge.

  I tugged on it.

  Locked

  He fucking locked me in.

  My fist was poised to slam, when I paused. The open window blew silky air on my skin. This wasn’t the first time I’d been locked in my tower.

  Abigail Crowne had perfected climbing out windows.

  “Hey, are you Abigail Crowne?”
Some kid sidled up next to me, trying to get a look at me under my baseball hat. “You are. I’ve seen your vag!”

  “Congratulations,” I said with faux cheer. “You’re almost as special as a used tampon.”

  He muttered something about me being a bitch and walked away.

  This night sucked.

  I tugged on the bill of my baseball cap, hiding my face. The key with doing a DiCaprio was not to stand out. Whoever looked the least wealthy got the most props. Gray tended to take it to the extreme. Someone actually gave him money tonight.

  I pulled T2 from my bra—the only spot I could put anything—spinning it around on my finger, rose gold catching the light.

  I missed Theo.

  Stupid, broody Theo and his cocky smile. His slightly slumped shoulders, like he didn’t give two shits if people noticed him—but that’s all I could do.

  I’d read each page of his mother’s diary before I left. She’d lived in Crowne Point and the one guy she’d slept with skipped town. She never saw him again, though she didn’t love him, and by sleeping with him she’d been forcing herself to be someone else.

  A lot of the pages were rambling thoughts of a teenager, but each she addressed to him, sometimes to Theo or just “baby boy.”

  When I’d finished, I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until the sky was dark and it was time to meet Gray.

  My siblings hadn’t included me in anything past the boat ride, and I wasn’t sure where they were. So I drank in a dark bar, elbows on the sticky counter, occasionally rebuffing assholes. Everyone looked in their early twenties, and a few maybe younger, in their teens.

  With nothing else to do, I opened the browser on my phone, searching for private investigators, toying with the idea of hiring one for Theo’s mom, but guilt kept me from sending them an email. It felt wrong to do this behind his back.

  Gray and Gemma appeared, sprinting out of the basement, laughing. A few seconds later, a mob followed them, yelling words in Spanish I couldn’t catch.

  I set my drink down.

  “Ladrón!”

  Thief.

  I sat up straighter.

  I came outside in time to hear Gray say, “I didn’t steal shit. I just let that fat ass dog out for a much needed walk.”

  “Vete a la mierda, maldito ladrón!”

  Gray doubled over, holding his gut and onto Gemma for support.

  My Spanish wasn’t as good as my French or Swedish, but I caught enough to know the guy was pissed.

  Sirens sounded in the distance and Gray and Gemma pointed at me. “We gave it to her.”

  Everyone focused on me at once.

  “¿Dónde diablos está mi perro?”

  Something about a dog, and once again, not happy with me.

  “Uh…”

  When I looked back, Gray and Gemma had vanished.

  FUCK.

  I slowly raised my hands. A mob of about ten angry Spanish hipsters were waiting for me to give them information about a dog I’d never seen.

  “Have…” I took a step back. “You…” Another step. “Checked…” I turned on my heel and sprinted away. “Idon’tfuckingknow.”

  I reached the pier, finding Gemma and Gray already in the boat. The air was extra brackish, and the wind had picked up, whipping my oversized hoodie.

  “What did you do with the dog, asshole?”

  Gray rolled his eyes. “The dog is fine. It’s in the bathroom.” He turned on the engine, and that was when I noticed they were unanchored and pulling away from the dock. I ran to the edge, but there was already too much space between us. The sea was a dark void.

  I could’ve asked them to stop, to come back, but it would’ve been pointless. I was such a fucking idiot. It hit me in the gut hard as they laughed, pulling the boat away.

  I was the fall guy.

  There was always one in every group.

  I don’t know why I’d thought tonight would be any different. Of course the only reason they would invite me was because I was the fall guy.

  But it hurt.

  It hurt to be abandoned. Flashbacks to boarding school assaulted me. When Gray paid a boy to ask me to the dance, only so he could abandon me the night of. Or the time I thought I’d fallen in love with another boy, and he’d sent my dirty pictures to everyone.

  And then Gemma had bribed someone on the yearbook to include them.

  I’m no saint, either. My hands are bloody, my soul is stained. We’re all stuck in this vicious cycle of hurting and being hurt.

  I glanced to my right, where paparazzi and officers had gathered. My options were slim. If I wasn’t home by morning, Mom would kill me. If I got spotted tonight, Mom would kill me. It was looking like Mom was going to kill me.

  Gray waved, and the engine revved, dark water churning white as they got smaller and smaller, fading into the glittery night. “Enjoy the nunnery, Newt.”

  Oh my God.

  Newt.

  Newt! After Isaac Newton, the nickname given to any fall guy at our boarding school. I’d totally forgotten he had a real name, because Newt—err Ned—was everyone’s fall guy back in Rosey, and no one called him anything save Newt all the years we were there.

  I was on the precipice of remembering something important, so close to remembering his full name, his real name—

  An arm yanked on my shoulder, pulling me back.

  Theo.

  “Did you think you could run from me, Reject?”

  Theo dragged me to another boat in silence. This boat was nowhere near as nice as the one we had. It was a small, wooden one that fit two, maybe three, people and the engine sputtered. I wondered if he’d got it off one of the servants.

  I kept thinking back to Newt/Ned, trying to remember his last name, but I couldn’t remember one person calling him by it in all the years we went to Rosey.

  We tiptoed from the dock up whitewashed steps to the Spanish colonial, pausing to hide from Mother’s servants beneath the shadow of a wooden trellis. Theo’s chest was pressed to mine. His chin barely grazing my scalp. Below us, the sea slapped against the dock walls, a soothing melody.

  “I read it,” I whispered. “I read her diary.”

  Theo cleared his throat. “Told you, not much in there.”

  There was so much in there. All of it was filled to the brim with love and longing. Our walls were finally falling down. Even in the past, Theo had never let me look through his mother’s diary.

  I had to tell him about Newt.

  “How did you find me?” I whispered.

  That brought his attention to me, our eyes locking. “I’ll always find you, Abigail. Remember that next time you spend the energy falling out a window. I used to be the one catching you.”

  Though his words made my heart leap, I pulled away. “That doesn’t answer my question.” The longer the silence pressed, the deeper my gut sank. I took a step back, night air and Spanish stars between us.

  “How, Theo?” I pressed.

  He worked his jaw. “Your key chain has a tracker in it.”

  My heart dropped. “I’m such a fool.”

  “No, Abigail—”

  “I thought this gift meant something.” I tore the key chain from my bra. “I thought you cared about me. You told me to trust you. To stop telling lies.”

  I’d been played the fool… again.

  “Why can’t it be both?” Anger usurped his breath and he gripped my shoulders, dragging me to him, eyes blazing. “It’s because I care about you. Fuck, can’t you see that? Am I supposed to just sit around and hope nothing happens to you?”

  “You could have told me. Why did you lie?”

  He dropped me, and whatever remorse I’d seen vanished. “Following your lead, Abs. I know there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

  Guilt swamped me. I knew I should tell him about Ned. Maybe I should’ve told him about him the day I realized we’d gone to school together, but there was still so much shit between us.

  And now there
was even more.

  So I deflected. “You didn’t use this to save me. You used it because you trapped me in a room and didn’t like that I climbed out.” I chucked the pretty key chain into the open sea.

  It hurt.

  It hurt so much.

  Theo watched the glimmering gold disappear into the black waters before turning back to me. “What happens if I can’t be there for you?”

  “I guess we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way. With trust.”

  “Abigail.”

  My mom’s voice was like a damn Taser. I sprang off Theo, feeling caught despite having done nothing.

  I rubbed my dark hair. “Uh, Mom. You’re up late.”

  An agonizing silence followed my brilliant observation. Then she turned away, walking toward her bedroom. For a second I had hope she’d leave it at that.

  “Are you coming?” she asked, impatience thin, feathery, and sharp.

  Into her room? At two in the morning? Anxiety crawled like ants under my skin, but I followed. I could feel Theo watching after me.

  A single lamp lit up the sitting room inside her wing. She sat on the antique love seat beside it. I could tell she’d been awake for some time, because her makeup was on, her curls were done, and, though she was in pajamas, they were the kind meant to be seen in.

  I took a shaky seat across from her when my eyes landed on the items on the table between us. Photos and notes of me—of me? I looked more clearly. They were the ones Newt had sent. The only place they could have come from was my box.

  My box.

  A trillion questions flitted through my mind. How long has she had them? Why did she have them? And what could it possibly mean that it now sat between us?

  “We need to talk,” my mother said.

  I dragged my eyes away from the box, finding her dark-blue ones. Warm, Mediterranean night air whispered through gauzy curtains.

  “In a few weeks’ time your grandfather will close this deal, and then your fiancé will meet us in Switzerland.”

  The wrinkle in my brow deepened. This hardly seemed so important to discuss at two in the morning. My eyes flittered to the box.

  “Okay…” was all I managed.

  She pulled the box into her lap. “I’ve seen your evidence. A few pictures are nothing to be concerned about.”