Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

Pound.

Thump.

“I want to dance with you…but not behind masks.”

“Clara and her prince!” I jumped, startled, feeling caught. The socialite pointed at my and Grayson’s outfits.

I looked at my sparkling white-and-green gown. “I-I’m just an angel.”

“My angel.” West wrapped his arm around my waist.

Lottie grabbed Grayson’s hand. “And we are Clara and the Nutcracker.”

Grayson removed his hand from Lottie’s. Lottie paused, slashing her eyes to the floor, mouth parted. She marched off to the opposite side of the ballroom to join her mother.

The socialite’s mouth stuck in a confused grin.

When Grayson and Lottie were together, their costume made sense. But somehow, when Grayson stood next to me, we also looked like Clara and the Nutcracker. I wanted to burrow into a fucking hole.

Grayson focused on me, heat rising to my neck.

Soulmates.

I made some excuse to West about getting a tart just so I could get away. The servants were still on the premises, of course, so the ballroom was decorated beautifully and still had towering cakes and sparkling ciders fit for hundreds of guests. I’m sure they’d spent hours on it.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

I jumped, startled.

Lottie had taken off her pretty diamond-and-lace mask, and her face had lost some of its color, the pretty hazelnut drained.

“You know what they call us? The Golden Sisters.” She laughed. “Do golden sisters fuck each other’s husbands? Should I fuck yours?” She made a face, realizing what she’d said. Then she pointed at me. “You couldn’t even marry someone for me to fuck. Bitch.”

She shoved me off but stumbled again. I gripped her arm.

“You know

the messed-up thing? I don’t even want to fuck anyone else… I don’t understand what I did wrong. I’ve done what I’m told to do. I did everything I was told to do.”

She stumbled again and I reached for her elbow. “Let’s go sit down.”

She shoved me off. “You’re not my girl anymore.”

“I’m not helping you because I have to, Lottie.”

She glared at me. “There’s no going back from this. You’re supposed to love him. How could you let him do this?”

“What are you talking about?”

She laughed, but it was breathless, weak.

“He didn’t tell you? I guess he doesn’t share everything with his mistress.”

The snow slammed harder against the windows. I let her go, and she fell to the floor.

“I think you need some water. Or coffee.”

“Fuck you, whore.”