Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

“See how much of a liar I am when I’m in West’s bed tonight.”

His eyes flashed to mine. Wild. Filled with something I knew I shouldn’t poke at. He dragged his free hand through his hair, and some of his perfect coif came undone. I liked it too much when the first strand fell across his blue eyes.

“I could fuck you against these stairs right now. I know you’d let me. You always let me.” His hand at my back slid beneath my shirt, flesh against flesh. “Come inside you.” He was possessed, tumbling into this fantasy. “You’re already pregnant.”

Another secret. A dirty, dark secret.

I whispered back, soft. “But when I have the baby, it will be his name on the birth certificate.”

Grayson froze, fingers digging into my flesh, eyes slowly locking with mine.

“Say that baby is his and see what fucking happens, Snitch.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m trying to warn you. I’ve been on a very thin leash since the moment you walked into my life. I’m trying to be good.” He slammed his other hand on the railing, caging me. “Trying to be decent. Trying to become the man you saw in me. But if you say that West is the father of my child…”

I knew I shouldn’t goad him.

“You’ll what?”

He exhaled a jagged sigh and stepped back.

“Maybe I’ll go back to my wife and fuck her. Come in her cunt. Get her fucked up with me the way you used to like.”

My stomach twisted at the image. “Go for it. I don’t give a shit what you do anymore, because you’re right about one thing. Somebody can come in me without worrying. But I think that’s a privilege reserved for my husband.”

He grasped my arm, yanking me to him. “I don’t share, Story.”

“I don’t share either.” I shoved him off. “You might not have been my first, Grayson, but you were my first everything else. My first kiss. My first blow job. My first orgasm. But you won’t be my last.”

He looked like he’d just been punched in the gut.

“So take a good fucking look, Grayson Crowne. Everything you do with Lottie, West gets to do to me.”

Twenty-Six

STORY

* * *

I turned sideways in the mirror, running my hands over my barely rounded belly. It was just a slight bump, barely noticeable, but it made my heart race all the same.

Thanksgiving with the Crownes.

It was hard to believe I’d already spent the month of November at Crowne Hall, but the calendar didn’t lie.

I practiced my fake smile again. It still felt stiff and awkward.

I exhaled, dropping my hands to my side.

I’d only ever experienced it as a servant. Thanksgiving was a prelude to the holidays. With extravagant, opulent traditions, beautiful gowns, and way too much food. Like many, the Crownes broke the turkey wishbone, but their tradition looks nothing like what you’d imagine. All guests break bones, dressed in their ballgowns, laughing beneath chandeliers as the paparazzi took

gilded pictures. Whoever breaks the biggest bone must do a lucky kiss with their date, to be displayed on all magazines across America.

Once, someone smuggled in a huge bone to try to cheat. They thought they could end up on the covers and become an overnight celebrity. It had happened before.

I decided my one goal this Thanksgiving was to avoid winning.