Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

“You think I don’t know that?” I snapped.

He flexed his jaw and turned to leave, as if he was just going to walk the halls of Crowne Hall in his underwear, the way only Grayson Crowne could, but he stopped in the doorway.

He was glaring at me, his anger obvious by the muscle popping in his jaw and the vein in his neck, but he just stayed in the doorway, arms folded. The clock ticked deeper into the morning.

“What?” I finally snapped.

“What is it?” he snapped back.

“Um, what?”

“You don’t eat peanuts or spaghetti. What do you like now?” He watched me with an annoyed glare that felt way too much like our first nights together.

Suckers.

I can’t stop eating them.

But he doesn’t get to know that.

Feeling petty, I said. “French fries, but only from France.”

He exhaled through his nostrils. “See you in a day then.”

I rolled my eyes. “Grayson, don’t fly to France.”

“Anything else?” he asked. “Would you like snails, maybe a baguette?”

I jumped off the bed, closing the distance and grabbing his arm.

“Don’t fly to France!” I couldn’t hold back my laugh, and a smile feathered his lips. For a few seconds, things had gone back to before. Before it all got ruined.

But then his smile dropped, and silence crept.

“Would you really fly to France?” I asked softly.

“Always, Snitch.”

I lifted my eyes to his. He was already watching me, blue eyes open in a way that made my heart ache.

I realized I was still holding him, and I quickly let go, stepping away, focusing on the floor. On my bare feet.

“Let me know what you really want, Snitch.”

“Okay,” I said, voice catching on the emotion in my throat.

When I looked up, my doorway was empty.

Twenty-Four

GRAY

* * *

Crowne Industries’ eastern HQ is headquartered in New York. It’s a towering silver skyscraper in the heart of the financial district. My grandfather split his time between California, London, and New York.

His assistants glanced at me when the elevator opened, went back to their work, then did a double take.

“Mr. Grayson!” My grandfather’s first assistant rushed up to me. Grandpa had two assistants, an older one with graying hair, Tory, and a younger one.