And fear.
Grayson was only an hour away. Was it really coming to an end? Would I really see him again? When I left Grayson chained to his bed, my heart was filled with hope. Now it was filled with maybes.
Maybe I should have left with him.
Maybe I should have let him destroy everything.
Maybe this was all a mistake.
“You look like a princess,” my girl gushed as she draped me in silver velvet. The only thing left to add to my ensemble was a sparkling silver veil, embroidered with velvet silver flowers, and with a beaded crown-like headband of black, silver, and white gold pearls.
Silver will look beautiful on you.
Tears clogged my throat as I stared at myself in the foot-long, gilded mirror.
I was not going to be his princess.
I’m never going to be his princess.
“She does.” West’s smooth, silky voice drifted in with the low buzzing of the plane.
Tears burned my eyes as I met his in the mirror. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black tux, with shiny black satin lapels and a deep, blood-red bow tie. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be a low-key evening. Not with how I was dressed. Not with the date on the calendar.
Christmas Eve.
My girl quickly dotted my tears away with a fresh cloth handkerchief, the du Lac emblem embroidered on the corner in lilac.
“Leave us,” West said, eyes still locked with mine.
We stayed like that for a while, his reflection a shiny barrier. Underneath his arm was a folded-up paper, but I couldn’t see the headline.
Our descent was almost finished. The spires of Crowne Hall jutted into the night, tipped in snow, behind them spotlights crisscrossed the black sky.
We were landing.
I had a bird’s-eye view of the train of oily town cars and limousines coming up the cobblestone driveway.
The plane jostled as the wheels lowered, and West gripped my elbow to keep me from falling.
“You’re still doing a terrible job at pretending, Angel.”
I looked away, down to the red velvet skirt of my dress pooling on the hardwood jet floor.
“You can talk with me, you know.”
I mashed my lips together, and he gripped my chin, dragging my face to his.
“Talk, Angel.”
West was a monster. So after everything he’d done to me…why couldn’t I hate him?
“I should hate you,” I whispered.
West arched a brow, a slight smile quirking his lips. “Should?”
I tripped over my tongue. “I do. I do hate you.”
Flashbacks to my first night with Grayson assaulted me. I know I had no reason to like West. No reason to forgive him. No reason to hold a space for him inside me.