I closed my eyes tighter like that could protect me.
He dropped me with violent force.
“Pandora doesn’t go back in the box. You have ten minutes.”
What if I say no? pricked my tongue, but I didn’t dare ask.
Grayson and I are the same age; we’d lived in the same house for years, and even attended the same school for a while, but I doubt he remembers me at all, or even knows my name. Because I’m someone who has to close my eyes to keep from seeing his, and he’s someone who shines so bright it demands everyone’s stare.
I swallowed, then nodded, turning on my heel toward the servants’ quarters, when his sultry voice drifted over my shoulders.
“You have no idea what you did tonight. But you will, soon.”
The servants’ quarters were on the west end of Crowne Hall, and, like most of Crowne Point, were something out of Downton Abbey. They had been my home since late freshman year of high school, when my mother died. Each room had phones with a mainline to the Crownes we served, but we might as well have used bells on strings. Ms. Barn was head of the girls, and my uncle, Mr. Hale, was head of the boys.
Gray might not have known who I was, but he definitely knew my uncle. If there was any servant the Crownes knew, it was Woodson Hale. He’d lived at Crowne Hall longer than Grayson had been alive, and he had cleaned up more messes for them than a fucking Roomba. He was one of the few servants the Crownes respected.
I sighed when I got to my bedroom. The wallpaper was peeling from the beach humidity. My bed was a twin, there was no closet, so I had to make do with a dresser smaller than most, and I had only one slightly crooked window above the bed.
But it was mine.
; Or…it had been.
“Where have you been?” Ms. Barn’s baritone voice startled me into a rigid spine. “I covered for you when Ms. Abigail called down, but I will not do that again—where are you going?” She broke off, seeing my paltry personal items shoved in my hands.
“Mr. Crowne has requested I stay with him.”
Her jaw tightened.
I adjusted my grip, barely stopping my notebook from toppling down from my mountain of things.
“You don’t have to do that, Story,” she said after a moment. “The Crownes are a lot of things, but they aren’t that kind of employer. They don’t spoil their own fruit. Whatever he requested, I’ll work it out. Stay here. I’ll talk with Mrs. Crowne.”
“It’s not like that,” I mumbled.
At least, I hope it isn’t.
I rubbed my uniform-issued black leather flats on the cement floor. I sensed if I told her the truth, I would be in even more shit, so I told her an abridged version.
“I looked him in the eyes.”
She sucked in a breath. “Story…”
My eyes wandered to the side, miserable, ashamed. The moon had risen outside my crooked, peeling window.
Ms. Barn didn’t try to stop me when I left.
I paused outside a black wood door, my uncle’s room. My uncle was like a father—actually, more of a father than my real father had ever been. He’d taken me in when my mother had finally succumbed to her demons. He’d always had dreams for me, even if I wasn’t able to make them come true. College, an MFA, out of Crowne Point, a better life than he’d led, than my parents had led.
My hand raised in a knock.
What would I tell him?
I can’t get fired. His health had been declining recently, and I’m the only one who looks after him. He’s someone who spent his whole life looking after others, so he doesn’t know how to look after himself. I force him to eat meals. I force him to go to the doctor. Without me, he’ll have no one. Crowne Hall isn’t exactly somewhere you can just stop by and visit.
He was also the only person in this mansion with a shred of sympathy left for Grayson. No matter how cruel or wicked Grayson got, my uncle’s understanding was unfailing. He always said Grayson Crowne was a nice boy who was forced to grow thorns to survive.