Our eyes locked, the flashing of cameras reflecting in his glare, and then Theo gripped my wrist, yanking me out of their view into the ornate hall. I let him tug me down the hallway, our footsteps echoing.
The exterior of Crowne Hall was famous for its inky black shingles and castle-like spires; inside it was pearly white with gold trim. It was a darkly romantic aesthetic, black railings and white, matte walls with intricately cut molding, the occasional gilded accoutrement, and the inescapable smell of salt air.
“Grandpa will fire you when he sees the photos,” I said with a smile, masking my hurt in triumph.
I couldn’t let him know how much power he still had.
Theo drew his thumb across his lush bottom lip, dragging it out in a distracting way, before ending on an exhale.
“Spoiled little princess… you know better. House paparazzi don’t publish anything without written approval.”
Hurt welled in my chest.
Where was my Theo? Did he ever exist? This heavy-lidded, gaunt, square-jawed imposter was just like everyone else now, seeing only my scars.
His pale eyes narrowed. “You have a party to get ready for, Ms. Crowne.”
He said my name with such venom it slid inside my blood and burned; then he grabbed my arm, tugging me toward my wing.
Gemma’s birthday party had been planned months before, but I couldn’t help but wonder, Would I meet my fiancé tonight?
“I can—” I yanked myself free. “I can walk.”
My chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and his eyes dropped to the movement before sliding back up my neck. There was no heat in his gaze, just ice, and it burned in a different, more painful way. He raised a brow, slightly tilting his head toward the wing. I summoned all of my imperial, God-given Crowne right to raise my chin, and I walked past him.
Even though everything in me wanted to crumble.
Especially as I felt him behind me, like a hot, heavy shadow.
Theo Hound wasn’t like the other bodyguards in my grandfather’s employ. Once upon a time, he was mine. We were just teenagers then, but I found Theo. I kept Theo. I almost gave him my heart, but like everyone else, he chose my sister.
Two
ABIGAIL
It was awkward and shadowy back in my wing. Theo hadn’t said a word, and I didn’t want to be the first one to break the silence. When I imagined our reunion, it was never like this, with another barbed wire kiss to shred us.
The last time we’d been together I’d kissed him. I was sixteen years old and head over heels in love with him. It didn’t matter he was eighteen and my grandfather’s protégé. Or that I could never be with someone like Theo, not without losing everything that made me a Crowne.
I’d kissed him.
Hours later I’d found him professing his love to my sister.
“You’re not supposed to look me in the eyes,” I muttered. The silence was killing me. I was Abigail Crowne, fire starter, scandal maker, the Wicked Bitch of the East Coast. I’d ruined reputations and destroyed lives, but a few minutes of silence with Theo and I was muttering like the schoolgirls had with Grayson.
Theo arched a brow. Slowly, deliberately, he trailed his gaze upward, landing on the petite crystal chandelier. Almost as if he was rolling his eyes at me.
I rolled my lips together, searching for pieces of myself Theo couldn’t take. I straightened my spine, folded my arms, and took a breath.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I said. “The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
His eyes flashed to mine, and heat seared my stomach.
I knew things about Theo.
Wicked things. Dirty, naughty words he’d whispered in my ear came drifting back, ghosting along my throat like his fingers.
“I—” A stutter threatened to erase the image. I swallowed, lifting my chin. “Stay out of my way, or you’ll end up back on the fucking streets, Theo. I brought you here; I can put you back.”