At their feet, Snitch.
“I guess,” Lottie said suddenly. “If I were to be honest. The kind of honesty that gets us in trouble. The kind our parents tell us not to use—”
“Lottie,” I said, already backing away. “I’ll talk to you later. We’ll fix this. You don’t have to marry me.”
“Oh.” Her brows knitted. “Um, okay…”
Sixteen
STORY
* * *
Around us, servants attended to the rich, but they watched me. A few had looks of concern, those that had actually been willing to talk to me about Lottie.
The others watched with hard, unfeeling eyes.
Instinctively I knew whatever was about to happen was because of Lottie’s girl.
“Did you think we were just going to let you get away with it?” Aundi asked.
“People like you have tried to take advantage of Lottie for years,” Pipa said. “They see innocent and they think no one is watching.”
“I didn’t know,” I said. “I really didn’t know she was allergic.”
If I thought anyone might help me, the shreds of that hope scattered in the wind the moment Aundi
bent over, nose almost level with mine. “We’re watching.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing with Grayson Crowne,” Pipa added. “But whatever it is, we’re pretty sure it’s why you gave her that cake.”
I could see a glimpse of the terrace, of low light and guests laughing, but no one was looking my way. And why would they? The party was out there, and Aundi and Pipa all but blocked me.
Not like they would have done anything, if they had seen me.
“What do we do with lying, social-climbing, whores?” Pipa asked.
A cruel smile lifted Aundi’s lips. “Expose them.”
Aundi tore the satin buttons at my back, ripping them open, exposing me from neck to spine. Buttons flew and bounced along the marble floor. I grasped the front of my shirt to keep it from falling open, and she shoved a handful of mini cakes into my hair. Chocolate and vanilla frosting smushed into my curls, raspberry jelly melting down my forehead. I stared at the marble, willing this to end. The cellist still played. A deep, vibrating song.
Beyond her I saw Ellie and a few others exchange a look, then gather closer to us. A hope climbed like a weed in my chest. We lived by a code: fuck with one, fuck with us all. We might not have the privilege to be as brazen as Pipa and Aundi, but we did get our revenge.
Pipa took a bottle of champagne to pour on my head, and I closed my eyes. To stop the burning and count the seconds until this was over.
But then nothing happened, and a shattering crash sounded. Had the servants come to my rescue?
“Grayson—” Pipa started.
“Shut up.”
Grayson’s bitter, freezing voice sent a shock wave of silence through the room.
I opened my eyes, sucking in a breath. His eyes were on mine, asking questions in a language I hadn’t learned to read. Jelly dripped into my eyebrow, and humiliation tore seams in the fabric of my soul. I looked away, finding Ellie’s questioning eyes and the questions of every server watching, every server who’d been about to act for me.
Why was Grayson Crowne stopping this? Why was the Grayson Crowne helping me, a servant?
Then Grayson did something I never would have expected. He bent down, obscuring the view of the other servers as he extended his hand.