“Two weeks is not enough time, sir,” I jerked my head to the side, where Madame stood as a shadow in the doorway, West across from her.
“Story?” The lawyer tapped the paper with a pen.
“One. I choose…” I took a deep breath. “I choose option one.”
It was the only option I could choose, but my hand shook as I signed the papers.
“I implore you—”
Once again my attention drifted to the doorway, where Madame shot me a vexatious look.
West raised a hand, stepping into the room. “She’s ready.”
The lawyer rose, putting away the now signed paper.
“Welcome to the du Lac family—Mr. du Lac.” She nodded her head at West who’d joined us.
Her words struck me—no one had ever welcomed me to the du Lac family when I’d been married to West—and I swallowed thick at her advice.
West gave me a hand, lifting me from the chair. “Are you ready, Angel?”
Was I ready?
As a mistress, I couldn’t speak unless spoken to, my place was written as second. Somehow I’d need to find the strength to be seen, to live with dignity, while being the most shameful and hidden I’d ever been.
If I don’t, the person I want to be, the dream I have for Grayson and I, will disappear completely.
West’s hand came to my collarbone, fingering the new diamond pendant that had replaced my golden heart.
Was I ready? I don’t know.
Two weeks of training had made me the girl behind the girl.
The second choice.
I lifted my eyes, meeting his in the dusty window.
Invisible and unloved…officially.
Nine
STORY
We were just an hour outside of Crowne Point. Snow already frosted the plane windows.
Anticipation was fireflies in my gut.
And fear.
Grayson was only an hour away. Was it really coming to an end? Would I really see him again? When I left Grayson chained to his bed, my heart was filled with hope. Now it was filled with maybes.
Maybe I should have left with him.
Maybe I should have let him destroy everything.
Maybe this was all a mistake.
“You look like a princess,” my girl gushed as she draped me in silver velvet. The only thing left to add to my ensemble was a sparkling silver veil, embroidered with velvet silver flowers, and with a beaded crown-like headband of black, silver, and white gold pearls.
Silver will look beautiful on you.
Tears clogged my throat as I stared at myself in the foot-long, gilded mirror.
I was not going to be his princess.
I’m never going to be his princess.
“She does.” West’s smooth, silky voice drifted in with the low buzzing of the plane.
Tears burned my eyes as I met his in the mirror. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black tux, with shiny black satin lapels and a deep, blood-red bow tie. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be a low-key evening. Not with how I was dressed. Not with the date on the calendar.
Christmas Eve.
My girl quickly dotted my tears away with a fresh cloth handkerchief, the du Lac emblem embroidered on the corner in lilac.
“Leave us,” West said, eyes still locked with mine.
We stayed like that for a while, his reflection a shiny barrier. Underneath his arm was a folded-up paper, but I couldn’t see the headline.
Our descent was almost finished. The spires of Crowne Hall jutted into the night, tipped in snow, behind them spotlights crisscrossed the black sky.
We were landing.
I had a bird’s-eye view of the train of oily town cars and limousines coming up the cobblestone driveway.
The plane jostled as the wheels lowered, and West gripped my elbow to keep me from falling.
“You’re still doing a terrible job at pretending, Angel.”
I looked away, down to the red velvet skirt of my dress pooling on the hardwood jet floor.
“You can talk with me, you know.”
I mashed my lips together, and he gripped my chin, dragging my face to his.
“Talk, Angel.”
West was a monster. So after everything he’d done to me…why couldn’t I hate him?
“I should hate you,” I whispered.
West arched a brow, a slight smile quirking his lips. “Should?”
I tripped over my tongue. “I do. I do hate you.”
Flashbacks to my first night with Grayson assaulted me. I know I had no reason to like West. No reason to forgive him. No reason to hold a space for him inside me.
Except for that one big, unavoidable reason.
I. Can’t. Stop.
My uncle did always say I was the smartest person he knew, but when it came to boys I was a damn fool.
A rush of cold, salty winter beach air filled the cabin and a moment later, the captain spoke. “We’re here, sir.”
The doors were open; I was minutes from my reunion. I breathed in the brackish, winter air. Air I’d missed so much. I could already picture the beaches covered in powdery snow—
That outfit doesn’t look like something West picked out.
Just like that, fear choked me. I wondered what Grayson would think once he saw me in this dress, so similar to the woman he had hated all his life. I was so…so terrified.
Not that he wouldn’t love me.
But that because he loved me…it would hurt so much more.
“Do you really think he loves you, Angel?” West’s light, cutting voice made me blink out of the memory. He pulled the paper tucked under his arm. “You haven’t even been gone two weeks.”
It was the same imprint that had got me attacked. The photo was of Lottie and Grayson, and it looked like it was taken the morning after the Nutcracker Masquerade. Lottie was seated on a golden chaise, and Grayson was behind it, hand protectively above her. I noted the one I’d handcuffed him with was hidden. He had his Grayson Crowne smile. Lottie didn’t even bother to smile.
They looked like an old royal painting, a lost Romanov artifact.
It read: A New Era of Crowne Begins: Grayson Crowne to Announce Heir
I knew when I left we would be tested. I knew they would test us. But even still, tears wetted my eyes. I rubbed my bare collarbone, staring at the dueling shadows on the hardwood floor.
My heart broke for the ache in his eyes.
I told him I’d write to him, but he’d never received any of my secret messages. I’d broken that promise. What had my lonely prince, my Atlas, had to go through without me?
West came up behind me. “I have a proposal for you… I’ll give you the video and files. Every little thing keeping Grayson Crowne hostage.”
My eyes locked with his in the mirror.
“I’ll even give you your locket back.”
He unfurled his fist, dangling the gold so it reflected in the mirror.
“And in return?”
“Choose me. Sleep in my bed every night, no tears.” The gold locket still dangling out of focus, he swiped at my tears.
No.
No. No. No. No. No. No.
My chest screamed it.
That was a one-time scar. I refused to cut myself again.
“If I say no, you’ll force me in your bed.” I glared at him through the mirror. “Like last time.”
“I’m giving you an option. You’re his, but I want you to be mine. So, why don’t we make this interesting, Angel?”