Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

Maybe it was just in my mind, but I swear the room went hush as Story came through. Paparazzi snapped furious pictures. Lottie followed my line of sight, and a moment later she exhaled.

I looked away, but Story was burned in my retinas. Her bare shoulders. Her pushed-up breasts and cleavage for miles. Her long, slender neck. Everyone was going to look at her tonight. She stood out among the women wearing muted colors of gold and brown, the men in dark suits. For once, she allowed what I saw in her every minute to shine through.

Exquisite. Unique.

West and Story were clearly headed our way as Abigail passed by in a deep-red ballgown that would make my mother’s head spin.

“Abs. Abby. Hey.”

Abigail stopped, turning around. “I’m in the middle of something very important.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you’re about to do something stupid.”

Her mouth dropped. “That’s—what—have you been talking to Theo?”

I threw an arm in Story’s direction. “What the fuck did you dress her in?”

“She looks hot, right? Vintage Chanel can do no wrong. It fits her well and brings out the color of her eyes.”

I glared. “I didn’t ask you to make her look hot. I said presentable.”

Theo stepped between us, dragging my sister back against his chest. “Chill, Gray. I’d hate to have to punch you in the face for making your sister cry.”

Her dog, Theo, wrapped his arm around her stomach possessively, eyes on me. I was about to make some comment to him about staying in his fucking place, but then Gemma and her fiancé, Horace, Story, and West joined us, and my attention went elsewhere. West, the idiot, wore a tall, traditional pilgrim’s hat.

“I’m not going to cry.” Abigail scoffed at Theo as Lottie wove her arm into mine.

“I see you’re getting fat with married life,” Gemma said to Abigail.

“I see you’re staying fat,” Abigail replied. Gemma rolled her eyes but smiled.

I can count on my hands the number of times my siblings and I have been together without disdain and fighting, and it was…nice. Odd, but nice.

A servant appeared, offering a silver tray of stuffed mushrooms. As everyone took one, Story’s face totally changed. She looked like she was going to hurl.

“Are you doing the wishbone with Horace later?” Abigail poked Gemma, obviously knowing how little Gemma wanted to kiss her fiancé. Horace, on his phone, raised his eyes at his name but went back moments later. Gemma made some comment to Abigail, but I kept my eyes on Story.

She stared at the floor, working her lower lip between her teeth.

Was she also sensitive to the smell of mushrooms?

“Story and I can’t wait to bone later,” West supplied.

I ignored West’s attempts to rile me up, focusing on Story, who looked about two seconds from vomiting. Without another thought, I smacked the mushrooms off the server’s plate. They went flying, a few spongy pieces sticking to the matte white walls.

Silence followed, everyone looking at me as Story quietly vomited into her napkin.

“What the fuck, Gray?” Gemma finally broke the silence.

I shrugged, sliding back into my chair. “I really hate stuffing.”

“Since when?”

Story’s and my eyes connected. I swear I saw thanks, but I wasn’t going to look into it.