“No way.” She pulled out her phone, and in the same instant I snatched it out of her hand and threw it to the ground. It shattered.

She snapped her head to mine. “Dick! That was limited edition.”

“Go warn her,” I gritted.

“Why don’t you?”

Because every time I’m within a few feet of her, I can’t decide if I want to pull her to me, lock her in my room and stop her from ever leaving, or force her out of here and throw away the key so she can’t ever come back.

I went with silence.

“Let it be noted I’m only doing this because it will be funny to see her face.” She blew a strand of rose gold hair from her forehead, then went over to Story.

A few seconds later, Story’s gingerbread cheeks deepened.

Better than some asshole socialite telling her.

I dragged my hands through my hair, chest in knots. Fucking West. Did he not prepare her at all for this? She was still dressed in her nun clothes. There was no way for her to blend in, and this was different from some party. These people were waiting to crucify her.

“Can you imagine her at Thanksgiving?” Gemma said, sidling up next to me to reach for the rosemary honey vodka spritzers a servant was carrying behind me. “Do you think she’ll dress like that?”

Shit.

I dragged my hands through my hair. She needed a girl. And guards. And fucking thousands of things. Thanksgiving? The holidays? She didn’t have the wardrobe for that. Was she going to show up like a fucking nun at the most important Crowne event of the year?

I’d love it, but I’d be the only one.

The event organizer called for a photo op, and I quickly walked over to the terrace to join Story before the rest of our group.

Before my wife.

Before her husband.

“Who’s going to the doctor’s appointments with you?”

“Shh!” Her eyes grew to saucers.

“Is it West?” I continued, unperturbed.

“West doesn’t know, so obviously not.”

“You need someone to go with you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of going on my own.”

“You don’t have anyone. Not really.”

A look of pain flickered across her features.

“I’m the only one who knows.” Something about that, knowing it was only I who had this secret, filled me with intense possession. It made me want to keep her more, to keep us safe.

I’d missed sharing with Story, missed our rare connection, and as long as we had this, she couldn’t disappear.

“You only have me, Snitch,” I said softer.

We only had each other.

“Maybe I’ll tell my husband…” Story’s eyes drifted to West, heading from across the terrace to join us for the photo. “I could tell anyone. You’re not special.”

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Crowne Point Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net