Heartless Hero

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  I tried to lighten the mood. “I know. You’re my guard dog. You’re always behind me.”

  The doors were opening, light and laughter and music seeping in through the crack.

  Holding my dress up, I spun away from the doors, into the pale green eyes of Theo.

  “I love you,” I said. I’m sure my eyes were too wide, my voice too desperate.

  The music got louder. Golden light bathed Theo’s face. The door was open and waiting for me. It must’ve been only seconds, but it felt like an eternity for him to respond.

  “For now,” Theo said at last.

  My heart bottomed out with the force of an elevator crashing and shattering to the floor.

  I didn’t want to, but I had to turn away. The gossamer of my dress floated against the marble floor as I stepped through the door. Ned stood to the side, waiting for me.

  I linked arms with Ned, my guard dog always at my back.

  Always.

  Twenty-Seven

  ABIGAIL

  Theo disappeared.

  The second I hit the steps with Ned, I turned to look over my shoulder at him and he’d just…disappeared. I tried not to panic. He wouldn’t leave me alone with Ned, not on purpose, not unless something was wrong.

  Ten minutes later and I hadn’t stopped looking for him, and neither had Ned left my side. He was sticky tape from hell.

  “Give me a chance, babe,” Ned said. “I’m such a nice guy”—I almost did a double-take. “The reason my dad is even considering merging with your company is because of me, Abby.”

  This time I did do a double-take.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had to have you. I’d do anything for you. Even making my dad see the benefit of being part of Crowne Industries.”

  I bit my lower lip until pain drowned out all the awful emotions clogging my throat. It wasn’t enough to terrorize it, he had to ruin my life too?

  “I’ve done everything for you. Why not give me a chance? I promise I’ll make you so happy. I’ll buy you everything you want. I’ll give you the fucking world.”

  “What do you like about me, Ned?” I asked.

  “Everything.”

  I arched a brow. “What’s my favorite color?”

  “Um…”

  Trick question, Abs. You love them all.

  “My favorite food? What books do I read? Am I Team Edward or Team Jacob?”

  “You like sports?” He shrugged. “I can get into sports.”

  Wow.

  “So, what do you like about me?”

  “You’re a Crowne, Abigail. What’s not to love? From the moment I saw you in Latin III, I was floored.”

  “Would you still love me if I wasn’t a Crowne?” I mused.

  That stopped him in his tracks.

  I wondered if I’d convinced him. If he finally saw he didn’t love me, he loved my Crowne.

  “You’ll never stop being a Crowne.” He said it as if assuring himself.

  Uneasy is the girl who wears the name Crowne.

  Uneasy, unloved, unnoticed, uncared for.

  “Maybe…”

  Then I spotted silken brown hair, tall and towering above the rest of the crowd. Near the back, by the glittering glass windows.

  Theo?

  I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see more clearly.

  “Is it because of the fucking dog?”

  “Don’t call him that.” I shot Ned a glare. Funny how I found my strength the more Ned showed his face.

  He’s a lumbering shadow behind letters and pictures and threats I can’t fight. In person, he’s the teenage boy who shivered when I kissed him playing spin the bottle.

  I looked back over the crowd, trying to see. I swear it was Theo. Why was he by the windows?

  “As if the only reason I don’t want you is because I want someone else.” That nearly had me laughing.

  “I see you wondering where he went.”

  I looked away.

  Ned snatched my wrist, forcing me to look at him.

  “What are you going to do, slap me?” I asked. “Slap the woman you apparently love?”

  His grip tightened, but he let me go. I resisted the urge to rub my wrist.

  “He doesn’t want you, Abby. Not like I do.” Thank God for that. “He’s not like us. He’s a social climber.”

  “Theo Hound is not a social climber,” I said. Theo was so far from that you’d have to measure it in parsecs, but someone like Ned wouldn’t understand.

  “Everyone knows it. The story is famous. The reject fell in love with the only thing to ever love her back, a dog who abandoned her for a chance at her sister.”

  I chewed my bottom lip until I tasted blood. Ned’s words ripped pieces of me I’d been pretending didn’t exist, wounds that tore and tore and never healed. I wish Ned had laughed at or taunted me; it would’ve felt less real. He looked at me with pity. How dare someone like him look at someone like me with pity.

  Theo didn’t fuck my sister.

  He didn’t.

  He’d promised it was all a misunderstanding.

  Promises were sacred between us…

  “The precious dog got sent away, and the moment he came back she forgave him, only for the dog to do it all over again.”

  Freezing water filled my veins.

  Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

  “Clever,” I managed, my throat stuffed with cotton.

  Ned looked at his phone, an ugly smile spreading his lips.

  “Do you really want to know where he went?” he asked, too quietly. His arm landed on my shoulder. I couldn’t move to take it off, a deer caught in the moment about to kill her. “Because I just saw him, actually…” Ned showed me his phone. “We all did.”

  No.

  The picture was under the finsta hashtag Abbyslostdog. Everyone was commenting, laughing at me. It had to be a mistake, a mirage, a deadly figment sprung from my darkest nightmares.

  Then Ned gripped my chin, twisting my head to make me look. Through the crowd of ball gowns, tiaras, and tuxes, the picture came to life: Theo and Gemma kissing.

  Theo opened his eyes, as if sensing me through the sea of tulle and satin, connecting with mine.

  I dropped my champagne flute, briefly registering the cold gold liquid on my open toes.

  Theo’s hand grasped the back of my sister’s head, his tongue diving deep into her mouth; then he looked back at her, and the crowd collapsed.

  I shucked Ned off, pushing through the crowd.

  Cries of Excuse me! echoed around me as my elbows flung to push them out of the way. I heard glass crash, red wine spill. My eyes were glued on the spot I’d seen Theo. Laughter, the trill of the violin, faded away.

  Why would he do that?

  It makes no sense.

  Unless every little thing we’ve done has been…

  I couldn’t fathom it.

  I was so close to the spot I’d seen them. Just a few more feet and I could confirm what I’d seen. I pushed aside the remaining satin and black… and was grabbed so tightly above my elbow I snapped back like a rubber band.

  “What are you doing?” my mom demanded.

  “I…” He was just beyond this wall of people.

  I pushed my mom away, breaking through the last of them.

  Empty. Just a dark window and glittering sconces. I looked left and right. Had I imagined it? As relief was about to cool my anxiety, I noticed my mother’s must-sparkle-like-a-diamond window was smudged. I stepped closer and pressed my finger to the glass, imagining Theo and Gemma.

  Their mouths heating the glass.

  I fell against the glass. It had to be a mistake.

  “What is it this time?” Mother pulled me from the window. “Not enough of a spotlight on Abigail Crowne during her own engagement party?”

  “How did you find my box?” I asked, a horrible thought slicing through me. “Did you guess? Did you see me put it there?”

  “I have better things to do than go rummaging
through the FEMA relief zone that is your room. It was given to me.”

  I all but slid down the window.

  There was only one person who could give it to her.

  Tansy Crowne didn’t lie. Truth hurt better than lies. Truth was a better, sharper weapon to wield. Lies were blunt, vulgar weapons used by weaker people, those who didn’t have the power to ascertain truths.

  And yet.

  “He wouldn’t do that. You’re lying.”

  She didn’t honor such an accusation with a response, lifting up her wineglass and waving to someone across the room.

  That, combined with what I’d seen, chipped away what little hope I had left.

  I’m going to break your heart, and you’re going to thank me.

  This had all been one, elaborate ruse. A game to trick me. To make me fall in love with him. The air was too thin. I took sharp, gasping breaths, but it just made it worse. My vision was going black, my knees giving way.

  My mom was on me in an instant, eyes elsewhere, smiling like I wasn’t having a meltdown. “Stand up before you make a scene,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “I. Can’t. Breathe.”

  “Then grow another set of lungs.”

  She hauled me off the floor, linking arms with me like we were going on a mother-daughter walk, when in reality she was tugging me out of the ballroom.

  “Let me go!” I tore out of my mother’s grip. “Can’t you see something is wrong? Don’t you care?”

  The muscle in her jaw twitched. “I think you’ve had enough fun tonight.”

  “I think so,” I agreed.

  My mother’s disappointment was apparent, but for once in my fucking life, I cared more about something else than her approval. She breathed fire through her nostrils, then turned on her heel, disappearing back into the party.

  I climbed the stairs to go to the alcove, my haven. How messed up was it that my one safe place was still intertwined with him? I let this happen. It was my fault. I opened myself up. He’d told me explicitly what he was going to do.

  I pulled out my phone and texted him. I wanted one last chance for him to explain. To tell me everything was a misunderstanding.

  You told my mom about my box?

  I waited.

  Three dots appeared and disappeared.

  Why would you do that? Why would you go behind my back and spill all of my secrets?

  Another three dots, and they vanished just as quickly.

  Did you really kiss her?

  Betrayal coursed through my veins, acrid and searing, and I asked the question I really wanted to know.

  Did you plan this from the beginning? All of it?

  Another three dots appeared. I was certain they would vanish, but I received a response: a photo. Whatever hope I had vanished with it, shattered into a million pieces.

  No. No, no, no.

  It was a selfie. He was grinning and appeared to be naked, but the selfie cut off just at the hard, muscular vee pointing down to his cock. It was lewd and sexy and suggestive.

  The way he held the phone, I could clearly see behind him. He was in a bedroom, and I recognized it.

  I spun around, looking behind me, then back at my phone.

  It was the guest bedroom just a few feet down the hall.

  On the bed, the dress Gemma’d had worn tonight was wrinkled. What removed all of my doubt—the silver-gray lingerie only Gemma wore was scattered on the hardwood. I nearly dropped my phone.

  I told myself I wouldn’t fall for Theo.

  Love is ephemeral, conditional. Love can be withdrawn. Love is a fucking lie. It happened anyway. And here was the proof. The minute I believed I could have something real, where we used to drink and make fun of everyone, where we spilled our hearts, Theo fucked my sister just feet away.

  He sent me only these words along with the picture: “Come find me, sweet girl.”

  Theo was waiting for me with one arm propped on the doorway.

  Totally, unfairly naked.

  “What did you do?”

  I looked into his eyes, but there was none of the warmth I’d seen radiating these past few weeks. Cold, cruel Theo was back. The one who ripped away my grandfather, who’d promised to make me regret my love.

  His grin was crooked, and he pulled off the condom still on his semihard dick, tossing it to the ground. “I don’t know. What did I do, Reject?”

  My eyes landed on the condom.

  No.

  “Did you really sleep with her?” I hated how my voice shook.

  The past was coming back in a wave of nausea.

  I wouldn’t believe it. Not this time. I couldn’t.

  “Did you?” There was hope in my eyes. I knew it, because it wavered in my question.

  Theo looked at me like I was a curiosity. “What if I did?”

  Below us, the ball continued without pause, lilting music and laughter taunting me. They were having a wonderful time, unaware that above them a girl was shattering.

  “I don’t believe it,” I whispered. “It’s like before. You’re lying. It’s a misunderstanding.”

  He took a breath and leaned against the wall, one shoulder propped. “I wondered how the Crowne sisters compared. Gemma tastes better, but you’re definitely more eager to please.”

  My lips trembled.

  I didn’t need to listen to this.

  I turned to leave, but he gripped my bicep, spinning me flush against his naked body. When I struggled, he tangled one hand in my hair, the other at my lower back, anchoring me.

  “You said you loved me, Abigail.” His words were taunting, not sweet. “Even if I betrayed you. How does that lie taste on your tongue?”

  “Fuck you—”

  He tugged my hair until our eyes locked. He looked demonic. Crazed. His eyes searched mine like a police dog going in for a kill.

  “You said you would love me, Abigail.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “If you insist.” Then his lips were on mine.

  Twenty-Eight

  ABIGAIL

  His lips were punishing and consoling, taking my pain and sorrow and twisting it into something sweet. I couldn’t escape our addicting ouroboros, and a moan threatened to escape me. The moment it left my lips, Theo broke our connection and shoved me to the bed.

  The bed where my sister’s ball gown now lay beneath me.

  I couldn’t see him; our ball gowns took up my vision. Fuck tulle. Seriously, fuck whoever invented it. He was a predator and I was his prey, trapped in the bushes of glittery and gauzy fabric, trying to find him.

  “I’m not doing this here.”

  I could’ve stood up, run out of the room and from this. Instead I made a weak proclamation even I wasn’t sure I believed. I heard a creak on the hardwood to my left.

  “Where I fucked your sister, you mean?” Theo’s voice came at me from the right, low and amused. “She’s probably still on the sheets.”

  “Stop.”

  “Can you feel her?” His low voice took up all the space in the room until it was inside me, seeping cold amusement. “I fucked her bare before I put on the condom.”

  “Stop.”

  I was yanked by my right ankle, pulled roughly out of the tulle forest, into the eyes of Theo.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked. “Does it fucking break you up inside?”

  His eyes pierced me. The green in them fractured like cracked gemstones, furious emotion shining through. Naked he was so breathtaking. All sharp glistening edges—naked because of my sister. Three parallel scratch marks slid down his pec. He was mine. He was mine, and she’d marked him and he’d let her.

  I found his eyes again, but they were too tender. I needed him to be cruel as betrayal’s knife twisted in my side.

  “Do you still want me to stop, Abigail?” His touch on my ankle was soft now. His thumb stroked the bone, back and forth, too light. Too sweet.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Say no, Abigail.” The way his voice lower
ed into a vibration made it sound like a threat, but he was threatening me to make him stop.

  I couldn’t do it, either way. I couldn’t say no.

  “There’s no going back, Theo.”

  Misery. That’s the brine on my tongue.

  I promise by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for everyone but me.

  He was right in the end.

  Some emotion flickered across his features at my words. It was followed by another barely-there second of that addictingly sweet touch; then his grasp hardened, and he yanked me to the edge of the bed. He lifted one ankle to his shoulder, and then leaned over me, hands at my neckline, tearing my dress down the middle.

  Hours before he’d wondered if it was held up by magic; now the lace was torn between his fingers.

  His touch left me too soon, but one hand returned, between my thighs.

  “Oh, I get why you didn’t want to stop.” He laughed, rubbing my panties into me. “What did it? What part of this is getting you so fucking wet, Reject?”

  I was stuck on him, the way he watched me. It was reminiscent of our first night together, when he drank in every sigh, goose bump, and bitten lip. But unlike that night, I had a feeling I was going to regret his worship.

  He rubbed my silk panties against me, a concentric, intoxicating rhythm. I wanted him to rip them off. I would deal with the emotional fallout after. All I knew was I wanted Theo’s rough, knowing hands on me.

  “Is it knowing you’re second best?” he asked, pushing aside my panties. He slid one finger into me, and I must’ve gasped, but it was drowned out under his groan.

  His groan.

  Deep, strangled, and unfair. Unfair he gives it to me after such cruel words.

  His fingers left me. I was shocked, and so empty. A cruel fucking tease.

  But then he was at my entrance, his thick cock spreading me. He held one ankle on his shoulder, my other gripped in his hand. I’d never been so obscenely open, vulnerable, and so ripped apart.

  But he waited.

  For me to say no? To push him away? I should. Tears were drowning my face.

  Instead, I arched my back.

  He slammed into me. I arched higher off the bed, but he gave me no reprieve.