Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

Lottie.

I blinked, coming out of a fury-fueled daze.

Lottie had grabbed me.

“Lottie?” I looked at her hand on my arm again.

Lottie snatched my hand, tugging my fist open. I stared at my hand numbly, at the streaks of char against my golden palm and the red burn marks from squeezing it so hard. I forgot I’d had a blunt.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“I…uh, zoned out.”

She gave me a bereft look, eyeing my burned palm. “Do you need to go to the doctor?”

We both knew that wasn’t an option.

Grayson Crowne couldn’t disappear from his own reception, not after the video.

She handed me a thick cloth napkin. “Hold it until the bleeding stops.” Her lips thinned, and her stare hadn’t let up. “You were supposed to lie low. You’re making a scene. Can’t you just play pretend for a few hours?” She shot looks at the wedding planner watching us with shrewd eyes, the paparazzi a few feet behind her. “We’ve been doing it our entire lives…”

I gripped Lottie’s shoulders and her eyes grew. “I want to do more with you than play fucking pretend, Lottie.”

Her eyes grew at my words.

I looked around, trying to spot Snitch.

“You’re still looking for her,” Lottie said, hollow.

I owed Lottie. Now there were people in the world who knew the truth of our wedding night. Knew I’d fucked someone else.

But rape?

Fucking rape?

I found Lottie’s eyes. There was nothing to make this right. I’d ruined the most special day of her life.

She exhaled, trying to shrug out of my hold. “Let’s go take pictures.”

I tightened my grip, holding Lottie in place.

Everything in me said to go find Snitch. To make sure she was okay.

Or to beat Lottie’s brother to a pulp.

What do you do when you want to do the right thing, but whatever right you choose will end up wronging someone? How do you choose?

“They’re waiting,” Lottie said softly.

It was tense. Awkward. Wrong. My mother knew I’d fucked someone else. Her mother knew. Hell, I’d bet the famous photographer positioning us, muttering something under her breath about contrived, knew.

The only one who didn’t know everyone knew yet was Snitch herself.

Still I couldn’t stop thinking about Snitch. All the times I’d been jealous about West, had goaded her, had used it against her.

I was fucking trash.

She hadn’t opened up to me. There was still so much she kept from me.