Dirty Law

Never forget your place, always put the Crowne name above all else, and never, ever hurt the Reject.

Especially don’t torment the Reject.

Even if she is a spoiled brat.

So when an opportunity presents itself to punish her, you definitely shouldn’t take it.

Then again, Abigail loves to be tortured, and I’ve waited patiently for revenge.

I’ll keep her safe... with cruel protection.

Love is off limits with Abigail Crowne, but no one said anything about hate.

ABIGAIL

* * *

My head pounded as I dragged my feet through the gate. Carrying my strappy Jimmy Choos, I walked alone past towering wrought iron, along cobblestone and perfectly trimmed emerald-green hedges, past crystal-blue fountains and dower-faced guards. They didn’t look at me, but I felt their stares all the same.

I’d lost my bodyguard. Again.

I’d been caught by the press. Again.

“You’re in so much shit.”

My older sister, Gemma, leaned against pretty white embellished walls, a cup of tea in her hands. When she saw me, she came forward, like she’d been waiting. I wouldn’t doubt it.

“I think I heard Mom say the words ‘complete disappointment.’” A smile curved her red lips just as a laugh echoed through the great halls.

Grayson, my brother.

“No, it was ‘utterly hopeless,’” he added. “The word ‘nunnery’ was also tossed around.” Gemma joined in his laughter, and I fought the urge to throw my strappy heels at their heads.

Both my siblings were tall and shared my mother and father’s iconic blond hair. It looked like spun rose gold. I, on the other hand, was barely five foot five, and had my great-grandmother’s hair, so brown it was almost black—just so it was obvious I was the black sheep.

“Where is she?”

“Take a wild guess,” Gemma said.

I swallowed my grimace, walking in the direction as my siblings followed after me, eager to watch what was about to unfold.

My mother, Tansy, loved her tea and cupcakes almost as much as she loved doling out my punishments. Most days she could be found in the sunroom, overlooking three miles of gardens, blue skies, and Atlantic Ocean.

Outside the sunroom, I knocked lightly with a sigh. “Mom—”

I stopped short, locked on the figure at the end of our pearly hallway. It had been years since I’d seen him, but I’d recognize his piercing green eyes anywhere.

Theo Hound.

“Abigail?” my mother’s lilting voice called.

I blinked, and he was gone. I must have seen wrong. That person was on the opposite side of the country, in California guarding my grandfather.

“Hello, Mother,” I said, coming into the room. I took my usual place before her feet, the midafternoon sun warm against my back. My siblings went to stand by my mother, both resting their hands on the curling back of her sateen chaise, as if really wanting to rub in how apart from them I was.

Mother placed the book she’d been reading on a table adorned with tea and cookies to her left, starting in on her usual censure. She wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed. She both expected this and expected better.

“What is it?” I asked, holding back a sigh. “Am I under house arrest? Are you taking away my allowance? Or maybe denying me dinner?” Those were her usual go-tos. None of them explained the growing smiles on my siblings’ faces.