“Looking for my mistress.”
I pushed him out of the way, heart rate rising each second I couldn’t see her. I searched the bathrooms—ignoring the socialites screaming. Searched the whole fucking first floor, and each minute West followed.
I finished the search on the terrace as my mother’s firework show was coming to an end.
“She probably went back to our wing.”
Our wing.
I opened and closed my fist, the urge to hit him overwhelming.
Little nun, where are—
I stopped, nearly dropped my phone.
She was on the beach, and she wasn’t alone.
STORY
“I’ve seen you in the news, Cinderella. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night at Unknown. A mistress now.” He ran a hand down my cheek and I jerked my head away.
“Is it true you can’t speak unless I give you permission?”
To avoid a clear silence, I stood up and grabbed my sandy heels.
“I could take you away,” he said. “You don’t have to live like this. We can go right now to my yacht.” He gestured behind him, to one of the many docked boats.
He seemed innocent enough.
A few months ago, I might have actually thought he was a prince, but the Fourth of July came flooding back. Those boats were filled with people who got off ripping wings off insects.
I shook my head, and started walking away. The fireworks above increased, exploding and dripping gold down the black night.
Hollywood gripped my arm, dragging me back. I yanked my arm and he dug his fingers tighter into my flesh.
That’s when the rock in my stomach dropped.
He exhaled, like I’d put him out. “I didn’t want to have to do it this way.”
“I’m pregnant.”
His eyes heated, dropping to the bump. “I know.”
I didn’t wait for what came next, I shoved at him with all my strength. With elbows and knees and everything I had—but he was too strong. He was at least six-foot-two, and he played superheroes in the movies. Now he used that strength to shove me to the sand, to rip apart my dress.
I watched the glittery fabric float like butterflies in the air, land softly on the sand while he pawed viciously at my thighs. The firework finale was starting, lighting up the darkness with one exploding star after the next.
Defeated. Tired. Finished.
For a second, I let those emotions fill my chest. I felt like every day from the age of thirteen I’d been fighting men like Hollywood and I was so fucking tired of it.
Then his weight vanished. I stared at the sky and sucked cold black air into my lungs. Still stuck on the merry-go-round in my head. Until a growl of a word brought me back to the present.
“Hold him steady.”
Grayson.
“I want a go.”
And West?
I scrambled to a sitting position, pulling my knees to my chest.
West held Hollywood as Gray threw punch after punch, until a face that made millions was just a bloody, broken mess. They worked together to destroy him.
“My turn,” West gritted.
West shoved Hollywood off, and then Gray held him in place. After West had his turn, he was thrown to the sand as fireworks slammed into the stars above us.
Then they kicked.
When he’d stopped moving, they stood above him, shoulders moving with their breaths. Their heads swiveled to me at the same time and I sucked in a breath.
Their eyes burned through the night and I could see the words in their heads. With their rolling breaths and heaving chests. As veins throbbed in their necks and twined down their closed fists—they were deciding if they really were going to kill him.
But then Gray came to me in silence, slowly unbuttoned his white shirt as he did, leaving bloody stamps beside the buttons. He bent down, draping it over me and buttoning it back up as he went. When Gray finished, West draped his jacket over me.
Everything about this moment felt fateful, from the pounding fireworks to the blood on their hands.
I kissed the lips of a god, so fate punished me.
Maybe I’d kissed the lips of two.
Grayson, who I’d watched for years and hoped would never notice me. Yet, in the end, his attention was the catalyst to set my soul on fire. West, who I prayed for years would look back again in my direction, but whose attention proved the most destructive.
No one ever accused gods of being kind to mortals.
West stood up, beside Gray, and Grayson dragged his thumb along my jaw, looking me over for any signs of hurt.
“I’m okay,” I said.
Every muscle in him was coiled and throbbing.
I gripped his bicep. “I’m okay, I promise.”
He let out a pained exhale. “Either way. We’re not going down to the cemetery tonight.”
“Agreed,” West said.
Like coming out of a dream, I scrambled up. “No! We might not get another chance for months.” The next time Crowne Hall would be this distracted…it could be the baby shower. Which would be months from now.
I knew Gray wouldn’t let West look on his own, neither could he leave me alone with him, no matter what weird Twilight Zone camaraderie had just happened.
West folded his arms, and Gray did the same.
“You’re not going,” Gray said.
I’ve decided I don’t like it when West and Gray team up.
“I’m not letting some asshole ruin this!”
Speaking of said asshole, he moaned in the sand. Gray’s jaw ticked.
I glanced at him. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“Paparazzi are going to get an anonymous tip,” Gray said. “There have been rumors about him for years.”
“Well…” I glanced at the sky, to the fireworks almost finished. “Let’s go.”
“You’re pregnant,” Gray and West said at the same time again.
Gray exhaled through his nostrils, rubbing between his eyebrows like it hurt to agree with him.
“Again… I’m pregnant, not dying. I can go.” I touched Gray’s arm. “He barely touched me.”
Gray stared me down. Stay here.
I blinked at him. No.
“I guess I’ll go by myself.”
I turned on my heel, heading toward the cemetery when I was grabbed on both biceps. Grayson had grabbed one bicep, West the other.
“Fine,” they gritted.
Thirty-Seven
STORY
If someone had told me a year ago I’d be spending my New Year’s digging up fresh earth in the graveyard, my glittery dress torn to pieces, I wouldn’t have believed them. If that same someone had told me Grayson and West would be my company, I would have thought they were insane.
I brushed aside dirt from the tenth grave we’d dug. West bent down beside me; a moment later, Grayson elbowed him out of the way.
We were supposed to split up to cover more ground, but they wouldn’t let me out of their sights. Gray sandwiched me on one side, West the other. It was probably some kind of fantasy, having two of the most powerful men in the world fighting over you, but this was my nightmare.
I only want Gray.
Well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t still feel something for West…but it wasn’t love. I yearned for Gray, and I hurt for West. He was rust. A bruise on my heart. Something I wished would heal so I never had to feel it again.