Grayson held out his hand, and I knew I shouldn’t take it. I should put distance between us.

I placed my hand in his.

“Are you allowed to hold my hand?” I asked as I noticed what must have been the fifteenth person stare.

“You have a bad habit of forgetting who I am, Snitch,” Grayson said easily. “There’s nothing on earth Grayson Crowne can’t do.”

Still, my stomach churned uneasily. We were buoyed on all sides by stares. They couldn’t tell who I was, not in my silver gown, but I knew.

“Where are we going?”

He ignored me, dragging me until we were on the edge of the ballroom, almost against the gilded latticed floor-to-ceiling windows.

“The way the ballroom is designed, from this spot, you can see everything and everyone, but you’re obscured by these two pillars.”

He motioned to the Grecian columns with his two pointer fingers, and I followed Grayson’s stare out to the ballroom. He was right.

“I used to come here with my dad,” he said. “No…I used to follow him, hide over there”—he pointed to a spot near the stage—“then wait for him to find me and force me back to the party.”

I studied his wistful face. “You never talk about your dad.”

“We’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead.” He shot me a grin, but it was sad. Darkness lurked in his stony eyes, and I wished we were different. I wished I could hug him.

“Abigail has stars in her eyes because she was too young to remember him. But he was an asshole. He loved his real family more than us.”

Grayson stared off into the party. I followed his line of sight to where Abigail stood next to her fiancé. She was a real princess in her lace-up, flowing white dress. Beautiful.

Beautiful and sad.

It should be the official motto for the Crownes.

“When my dad died, I told my mom I wouldn’t let anything happen to this family,” Grayson continued. “I said we would always be together. I swore it as she cried on his fucking grave. We’re together. We just hate each other.”

“You don’t hate each other,” I said instantly, but even I could hear the lie.

“Tell me something about you,” Grayson said, turning to me, eyes earnest. “Something I don’t know.”

Immediately, I knew the thing he didn’t know about me. The dirtiest part. The part I wanted to keep hidden.

“My mother and I stole a lot,” I said quietly. “The worst thing my mother stole was happily ever afters. I lost track of how many families she ruined.”

I waited for him to recoil, but he watched me eagerly.