Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

They hadn’t seen my face, at least.

West paused and said, “I was serious about my proposal.”

Mrs. du Lac threw an unreadable look over her shoulder, before following after him.

Then I was alone, only the distant sound of music and laughter my company. The quiet grew the longer I stood, until I felt so insignificant I couldn’t breathe.

A couple hundred thousand.

I shook my head, walking to the kitchen. I had a moment before Lottie’s next dressing, a few minutes I could spend with Uncle. I went to the pantry, piling up boxes of my uncle’s favorite biscuits. He couldn’t leave his bed, and he’s too prideful to ask. I piled the boxes until I couldn’t see. Until the sharp cardboard edges bit into my biceps.

A couple hundred thousand.

I walked in a daze to the servants’ quarters, mind spinning between Grayson and West. Serious about his proposal? Even if West wasn’t fucking with me…I didn’t want revenge against Grayson.

Maybe I should.

I just want an answer for why it all fell apart.

A couple hundred—

My foot caught, and the boxes went flying, scattering across the marble. I fell to the ground, scrambling to pick them up.

A couple hundred thousand. A couple hundred thousand. A couple hundred thousand.

“Ow, fuck.” I caught myself on a sharp cardboard edge and dropped what I’d barely managed to pick back up. Exhausted, I fell to the marble, legs spread like a child.

I guess it was a good thing the hallway was empty, that everyone was busy with the wedding.

No one was here to witness me collapse.

“A hundred thousand,” I whispered aloud.

A rustling to my left yanked me out of my daze. Someone had bent down to help me. Quickly re-entering servant mode, I scrambled to get on my knees.

“Oh, please don’t. I can do—” I broke off, voice dying.

Two big hands joined me, veins throbbing along the golden skin.

These hands had held me, had bruised me, had been inside me.

Cautiously, I lifted my eyes.

One by one, Grayson Crowne piled the boxes as if they were the most precious things in the world. His rose gold hair was wild and messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and it veiled his face at the angle he was bent.

His eyes cut to mine like an electric shock.

I jumped off the floor, running my hands over my uniform, looking anywhere but his eyes. Grayson slowly stood, his back to his wedding, and mine to the servants’ quarters.

We were stuck between worlds.

Silence buzzed between us.

His eyes locked on the locket I wore—the one he gave me—and I shoved it under my collar. He clenched his jaw, then held the boxes out for me, his hand bloody from punching West.

I yanked them back. I wanted to yell at him, but what would I say? Don’t help me? Only a few hours had passed since he’d told me he loved me, but it may as well have been eons.

So I just turned on my heel.