Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

I worked my free hand into a fist, flexing my fingers.

I couldn’t believe it was really fucking over. But Snitch was married.

I dropped her.

“If you would just try.”

Lottie wrapped her arms around my waist, and once again I had to deny her.

“Lottie, fuck, not tonight.”

An ugly quiet grew.

“You know, my mom told me an interesting story earlier tonight. Your father hid Josephine during her pregnancy. No one knew a thing until after the triplets were born.” Her eyes found mine slowly. “I bet your mom knew.”

If it wasn’t for the sadness in her eyes, it might have sounded like a threat.

My wife.

Maybe the most tragic one in all this.

STORY

* * *

Moving in as Westley du Lac’s wife, in Crowne Hall. I used to dream of my happily ever after with West—he’d sweep me off my feet like a Cinderella.

Now I was married, and I was also the Cinderella of Crowne Hall…

I remember Lottie’s question on her wedding day. Had fate listened to our wants and given us the most twisted version possible?

West took my clothes out of my hand.

“I can get it myself,” I whispered, throat scratchy.

“You’re my wife now,” he said simply.

My gut did that thing…not a pancake like with Grayson, but a twist. I’d gone into this marriage focused on one thing: survival. Determined not to let the past pretzel its way into the present.

So what if parts of me were still begging to pretty all the dark things that happened between us?

I don’t want to be the girl that keeps getting her heart broken.

I took a seat on a soft, buttery leather couch that overlooked Crowne Beach as the sun fell behind the iron ocean. I picked at my bottom lip, focusing on my breathing.

I was married to Westley du Lac.

He stood in front of me, blocking the beach with his jeans. “Having second thoughts?”

I shook my head, placing a smile on my face that felt like someone was stretching my skin with strings. I couldn’t let it show in front of Grayson, in front of his family, but was I having second thoughts? That was all I had.

West was supposed to marry me, get me out of Crowne Point. In return, I promised him two months…that was all. Two months. If by the end I didn’t love him, he would let me go.

Two months I could do.

In two months I would barely be showing. I wasn’t going to be my mother. I would make a safe, happy, beautiful life for my baby. I could handle two months of this. I’d handled much worse. In two months I’d have a full bank account—and freedom.

Was I stupid to believe it? Does it even matter when I had no other choice?