Once.
“Take a fucking hint.”
I launched at Gemma. I tangled my fingers in her silky blown-out curls, and I knew it wasn’t going to end well. People think I’m malicious and vindictive and did things because I like causing drama. But have you ever been so hurt and torn open you’d do anything to make the throbbing pain stop?
You can’t think about the after, only the now?
Why do I have to get married before Gemma? And why so rushed?
Why does everything in my life have to revolve around Crowne Industries?
I yanked at my sister’s hair, and she gripped my wrists, pulling me the other way.
“You’re such a disgrace to our name,” Gemma said, our foreheads touching.
“You’re a kiss-ass.”
“Yeah, well you’re a kiss-ass wannabe.” Gemma was strong. She held me there, forcing me to listen. “And that’s fucking pathetic.”
Another spear to my heart.
I redirected my grip from Gemma’s hair to her nice dress, tearing at the lace, and she was trying to do the same when I was pulled off, back into the arms of Theo. Gemma tore my dress as I went, and I only managed to slightly wrinkle hers.
Theo’s heat wrapped around me, arms like corded iron. Gemma’s perfect blonde curls were mussed and tangled, and the Crowne tiara was now askew. That filled me with bitter-sweet joy.
“Stop.” His low, commanding voice vibrated against my ear. I relaxed, my hurt melting into his chest.
For a stupid, blinding minute I felt safe. Theo had been the only one I’d ever felt safe with.
Then he dropped me. I watched as if viewing a car crash as he went and helped my sister off the floor, even going so far as to fix her tiara. Pain tore my heart down the middle.
“Well, happy birthday to Gemma,” I said. “The real whore of Crowne Industries.”
“Cover yourself,” my mother hissed. I looked down, finding my breasts exposed where Gemma had ripped. I quickly slammed my arms over my chest, but it was useless—everyone had seen.
My eyes snapped from her to the crowd watching with delight, then back to her. I ground my jaw so tears wouldn’t spring. I know what they’re thinking. I’m pulling an Abby, making a mess of things, acting like a fool. I can’t wait to see what the hashtag would be tonight.
“It is such a relief your father isn’t here to see this.” There were few times I’d heard my mother’s voice shake, an anger reserved only for me—her greatest disappointment.
“Get her out of here,” my mother said to Theo.
Theo nodded, coming back to me, beginning to usher me away.
“But Mom—”
“Abigail,” my mother hissed, cutting me off. Her smile remained, glancing at the people who watched us. “Are you so fatally jealous you have to ruin everything?”
“Mom, I didn’t do it,” I said weakly.
Her eyes narrowed. “The words just crawled up your dress?”
I opened my mouth and closed it. I didn’t know how they’d gotten there.
“It wasn’t my fault,” I said weakly.
She shook her head. “It’s never your fault, Abigail.” My mother walked away, joining the crowd to presumably do damage control.
“At least playboy Gray understands his role. You…” Gemma sighed, righting her tiara. “You are so deeply, deeply unworthy of this family.”
I mashed my lips together, trying to control the heat crawling up my cheeks. I could feel them all watching me, the whispers, the laughter, the rumors that would spread.
So I laughed.
Because I didn’t want to cry. “I wish I wasn’t part of this family.”
I ripped myself out of Theo’s hold, running out of the great hall and into the gardens, falling on the lush green lawns overlooking the ocean. I pulled at the ends of my curls, looking at the dark waters.
We weren’t ever like other families, but then Dad died, and everything became about preserving his name, our name.
My mom has always been Tansy Crowne, but there was a time when my sister and brother weren’t only Gemma and Gray Crowne. And me… who was I before I became the girl pitted against them?
The girl destined to lose.
The real truth about me? The lives I destroyed were casualties. I wasn’t wicked.
I was unworthy. Unlovable. Rejected.
I heard a crunch and jumped, but when I saw who it was, I relaxed.
“Theo.” His name came out on a breath. The glow of Crowne Hall created a halo around his lean figure, making him look dark and ominous. He’d been there for me, held me, even if it was just part of the job, and I couldn’t shake the reminders of the past. Hope bloomed in my chest that, despite earlier today and five years of distance, we could go back to before.
He slid out of his jacket, draping it over my body.
“Thank you,” I said. Sincerely. Once again, Theo had been the only one there for me.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Disgust?
I tugged at my chestnut curl, trying to get my heart rate under control.
Wary, I pulled the lapels tight around me, watching him through my lashes as he walked around me until he was blocking the ocean. He bent down, suit stretching across his knees, his face still half-engulfed in shadows. His sharp cheekbones even hollower, more gaunt in the darkness.
“Poor Abigail,” he said. “Always second best.” He wiped the tear off my face with his knuckle and a smile that made me shiver.
“Theo, what are you—”
He cut me off, my words disappearing into my throat as he spoke. “Never good enough. Not loved by her mommy. Hated by her siblings. Reviled by her peers.” His hand didn’t leave me, knuckles resting on my jaw, lighter than air. “Poor little Abigail only wants to be loved, but no one could ever love her.”
“Stop.” I tried to tear my face from him, but his light grasp turned furious. He held my chin, hard and bruising, forcing me to look into his eyes. The warm Crowne Hall lights reflected in them, dancing like devil’s flames.
“So easy. So predictable. Still lashing out without thought, starting fires that consume her.”
My heart pounded louder than the ocean as a realization curled in my gut. There was only one person who had access to my dress. I just didn’t understand why he would do it.
“You did this?”
“I fucked up your dress. The rest was all you.”
“Why?” I whispered.
He released my chin, and this time I was frozen in place, his presence holding me captive. He trailed his knuckles against my jaw, up and down in a tender fashion that utterly belied the wolfish, vicious way he watched me.
A ghostly breeze blew salt air between us.
He wasn’t going to answer.
“Why are you here?” I tried instead.
His knuckle grazed my chin as a smile curled his lips. “Truth or promise?”
I had a thought as he perverted the sweet game we used to play as teenagers.
The thing between us was darkening, twisting, and I should run. Run before I darken and twist with it. I was the Wicked Bitch of the East Coast, but I wasn’t the words they called me. Not really. I liked to pretend I was as callous as my brother Grayson, as cunning as my sister Gemma.
In reality, I was soft. As they said, there was a reason I’d never fit in. I was a marshmallow. Easy to step on. Easier to squish.
So I answered. “Truth.”
Theo smiled, easy and slow. “I’m going to break your heart, and you’re going to thank me for it.”
Three
THEO
She blinked, blue eyes wide, then laughed. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe,” I answered, dropping her chin, standing up. The grass was made unsteady by the sand beneath, and the ocean roared angry behind us.
I liked her at my feet. Liked having Abigail Crowne where she belonged.
Thanks.
Abigail thanked me. Abigail Crowne didn’t show soft sides, and
if she did, it was only because she was about to put the dagger in your back. Thank-yous. Promises. Confessions. They should all be treated like enemy fire.
In all the truth or promises Abigail Crowne and I had played, she’d only ever made me one promise, and she broke it before the sun could rise.
Now, Abigail watched me, keeping a taut smile on her face, the moonlight liquid pearl on her skin. It was as if she thought I wouldn’t see through it, like I wouldn’t remember what a real Abigail Crowne smile looked like.
I speared my pocket, finding the friendship bracelet I couldn’t throw away. “You have a nickname, you know, around Crowne Hall.”
Her smile dropped.
“Oh.” I smiled, licking my top two teeth. “You already know it.”
“Fuck off.” She stood and took off the jacket I’d given her, throwing it at my face, trying to push past me, but I easily grasped her by the elbow.
It wasn’t like before. She had no fight.
I’d thought about this moment for five years, what I would do when I finally saw her again, how I would make her suffer like she’d made me.
I’d expected her to fight back.
“The girl who opens her legs for anyone,” I said quietly, working the blocky beads so hard they bit into my skin. “The girl who begs for insults, because they come easier than adoration. The girl who’d ask to get slapped if it meant someone would touch her.”
“Please…” Abigail bit her lower lip and looked at the grass. “Stop.”
“The Reject Princess.” I licked the words with a humorless smirk.
Her eyes flashed back to mine, haughty and filled with fire. For a minute she looked just like she had the night she’d started this.
I was sixteen when they’d found me.
When she’d found me.
I don’t know much about my life before the Crownes. I’d lived on the streets of our small town, when one night a shiny, black car stopped. Abigail Crowne got out of the car. I remember it had been an unusually cold July, and the streets popped with fireworks every night.
She was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen in my life. Her black hair had curled in the wind like silk ribbons and she had an entitled, callous sheen to her violet veiled brown eyes I’d only ever seen on the rich.
She’d bent down until we were eye to eye and said, “I’ve been looking for a pet. Grandpa’s allergic to dogs and Mom hates cats…” She’d trailed off, biting her bottom lip, looking at me. Her front teeth were a little crooked, but it had only added to her allure.
You’re going to be mine forever, and you’re going to thank me for it.
“The Reject Princess… yeah.” I laughed, grabbing her elbow, pulling her closer. “I’m going to break your heart, and you’ll thank me for it. You’ll beg me to do it again.”
Fear flickered in her eyes, and she searched my own.
Whatever she was searching for, she wouldn’t find it.
She lifted her chin high, and whatever vulnerability she’d shown me before vanished.
“If I’m the Reject Princess, what does that make you? The pathetic dog asleep at her feet?”
A humorless smirk chilled my lips; then I bit the air between us, stopping a feather’s distance away from her lips. She jumped back, heels losing purchase in the sandy grass, falling on her ass.
My laugh barely reached my lips, let alone my eyes.
Her eyes widened. “What happened to you?” Abigail scrambled back, getting tangled in her tulle. She spun around and tried to stand, tried to leave. I stepped on the hem, and she fell forward on a gasp.
I yanked her up by the laces of her dress just before she hit the grass.
“I dunno.” I gripped her satin laces, pulling her to me. “What happened to me?”
I didn’t give her a chance to recover. With one hand on her laces, I trailed my other lightly along her collarbone.
As far as I was concerned, she’d had five fucking years to be comfortable.
Her heartbeat pounded against my touch, and hard, heavy breaths escaped her spoiled, pouty lips, but she held her face in a firm grimace. Still, her skin rose to meet me.
“You’re not the boy I remember,” she said, a wrinkle marring her perfect porcelain brow. “You’re not the boy I saved.”
“You’re not the girl I remember either, princess.”
There was a time I thought Abigail was like me, but she’d always been a spoiled brat. Today proved that, shattered any lingering doubts.
“I’m exactly the person you left me to be,” she said.
“I’m going to take everything from you,” I said, voice soft. “Until you regret ever making me believe you were different.”
Until you regret making me believe I could have something more.
“I won’t play your games,” she said, a slight stammer to her words.
I bit back my laugh. Abigail Crowne was a master at games, but this time I’d be the one to ruin her, break her to pieces, build a safety net with rotting promises.
I’ll take everything from her. Her family. Her dreams.
Her heart.
Until there’s nothing left.
“Princess…” I ghosted my touch at her collarbone up to her throat, forcing her neck back, flush against me, ears to my lips.
“You’re not a player. You’re a pawn.”
Four
ABIGAIL
“Up and at ’em, Reject.” Theo threw open the windows. Yellow-gold morning light assaulted the shadowy corners of my room.
He eyed the porcelain lamp by my bedside, now muted in the morning glow. “Still afraid of what’s under the bed?”
He shot me a twisted, red-lipped grin, and heat crept up my cheeks, embarrassment drenched my blood. Only he knew why I slept with the light on. He knew and was using the memory as a shard to stab me.
I quickly slammed the light off and deflected. “You’re not supposed to come into my room. I could have you fired.”
“I wonder who they’d believe? The misbehaving heiress or the nothing-but-exemplary bodyguard tasked with watching her reject ass.”
I glared at Theo, willing it to turn him into ashes, pushing past how his street clothes fit on his muscular yet lean frame. His hoodie, gray jeans, and tennis shoes were designed to blend in, but he stood out like a model on the runway.
Theo Hound was undeniably gorgeous, and he was also dead set on ruining me.
He was supposed to be my person, and instead he left me like everyone else. I wasn’t ever a very good Crowne. I never filled my room with extravagant purchases like Gemma, or played games with the desperate like Gray, but when I saw Theo, I took him.
Last night I’d trusted him, and once again he’d betrayed me. I’ll never make that mistake again. From this point on, Theo Hound is enemy number one. I don’t care he’s been charged to guard my life. If I let my guard down, he’ll ruin me.
I know it.
If my glare affected him, it didn’t show. In fact, his blush lips curved. “Sleep well?”
“I hate you.”
“I don’t know how I’ll go on,” he said without any emotion, turning his attention to my ornately carved wood desk. There was only one thing atop it, my laptop—Mother liked to keep things neat. When he began opening drawers, I darted out of my bed so fast I forgot I was in only a small slip of a nightgown.
I slammed the drawer shut.
Our hands touched over the cool metal handle, Theo’s stare on mine, as my heart rose into my throat. I couldn’t fight him off. If he wanted to open that drawer, he could.
Inside it I had a secret: college applications. A belief I could do something, be someone, better than arm candy, better than the last name Crowne and the girl I’d been raised to be. It was a fairy tale, a fantasy, but I liked to look at the applications and dream. The same way people who drove by our manor on tour buses did, I bet.
“What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just tear apart my room.”
“Actually, I can
.” Theo took a step closer, pressing me against my desk, until my back bit into the wood. “I’m not like your other guards, Reject. You can’t scare me away. Your secrets are mine. Your mind is mine. Your body is mine. How else could I protect you?”
All too aware of his body pressed into mine, I tried to control my face, not let on how unnerved I was. Protect me? More like destroy me.
I gave myself away with a hard swallow, and Theo stepped back, a cruel smirk on his lips. His eyes landed on my open laptop, on the pictures wallpapering the back, and slowly Theo withdrew his hands, a grin spreading. He snatched the laptop, holding it high so I couldn’t get it. Maybe I should’ve worried more about what was on my laptop, but as long as he didn’t see my college applications, I didn’t care.
The pictures were of the one day Gemma and I hadn’t been at each other’s throats. She’d just turned twenty-one, I was nineteen. She’d allowed me into her bedroom for once, and we’d gotten drunk and taken naughty photos.
She had the matching set, the ones of me.
That was how Crowne sisters bonded—blackmail.
He arched a brow. “Naughty.”
“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” I said under my breath.
His stare dug into me like he wanted to press. Press what? The reason you obliterated my heart?
Then he slammed the laptop shut and shoved it under his arm. “Get dressed.”
“So you can make Mom hate me even more? No, thanks. I’ll stay here.” Today was one of my most favorite days, but if Theo wanted me dressed, instinct said I should do the opposite.
A cruel smile. “Scared?”
“No. I’m just not in the habit of listening to my bodyguards.”
“Get dressed, or I’ll dress you.”
A ripple of excitement raced up my spine, one I quickly disregarded as shock. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Want to test me, Reject?”
Before I could respond, he grabbed my elbow, dragging me to my walk-in. He tore open the frosted French doors, throwing me inside like I was a rag doll.
“Get. Dressed.”
“Get. Out,” I responded in the same tone.
His eyes raked over me, and I folded my arms, as if I could shield myself from the piercing stare.
Heartless Hero Page 3