Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

The bastard Crownes didn’t arrive with the rest of the cavalcade, and neither did their mother. They always arrive the night before, because for one month out of the year, they slide smoothly alongside the other Crownes, as if they were always a perfect fit.

Josephine saw me watching her, and her red lips tilted ever so slightly. Then she turned back toward the hall, dipping her chin and heading inside Crowne Hall.

“Are you going to tell your wife?” I asked, eyes on Josephine disappearing inside the Hall.

“Are you going to tell your husband?” Grayson countered.

My eyes wandered back to his.

“Just friends,” Grayson said again.

“Friends,” I echoed.

The very first Crowne had just arrived for the holidays.

The late Charles Crowne’s mistress.

Thirty-One

STORY

* * *

I woke up to more texts from Grayson than I could count.

* * *

How are you feeling?

Did you have morning sickness?

What do you want for breakfast?

Snitch.

Answer your fucking phone.

What do you want for breakfast?

I’m coming over if you don’t answer your fucking phone.

I’m coming over.

* * *

That last one was sent less than five minutes ago, so I quickly sent a reply that I was fine and he was insane, and I went to shower.

Today was the first official start of the holidays. In less than an hour, the first round of Crownes would arrive. Cousins, aunts, all the others twice removed. They would be shepherded to corners of the house, and servants would be expected to unpack and cater to their whims.

I dropped my head against the tile as water ran down my back. The farther away you got from wearing the title of Crowne, the worse your behavior. It was like they were all trying to compensate.

I turned the shower off and wrapped a fluffy towel around my body. This mirror never fogged, and a weird part of me missed swiping it.

I guess I had rich people problems.

I also had more pregnancy problems…I think. I was unusually horny, and my entire body ached with it. I left the bathroom to go get dressed, not only for lunch but for my doctor’s appointment.

I stared at my empty closet as my stomach caved in. I was missing my dresses, the ones Abigail had stolen from her mother. All that remained were my original nun outfits, as Grayson liked to call them.