This isn’t something to do for a servant. These aren’t things you say for someone you’re going to abandon in two months.

“Why are you doing this?” I begged. “Why? Why can’t you be like this always? Do you remember what you said to me, what you did to me, back in France?”

“Why are you giving my fiancée green pens?” he countered, grip on my neck harsh. “Why are you telling her what I like?”

“So you’re happy. You deserve to be happy.”

His jaw clenched. “No one has ever accused Grayson Crowne of deserving happiness.”

I fisted the fabric of his white dress shirt before he spoke again.

“I tell you my deep secrets, my dirty pieces of me. I can breathe when I talk to you. With you I have no weight on my shoulders. I…I fucking trust you, Story Hale.” He said it like he couldn’t believe it—and also hated me for allowing the trust to blossom.

I looked away. “Lottie is waiting for you.”

“And?” he demanded.

“And she’s your fiancée.”

“You’re fucking ripping me apart, Story.”

I snapped back to him. “I’m ripping you apart?” Was he fucking serious?

“For the first time in my life I can see myself throwing everything away, Snitch.” He pushed me against the window, cold glass biting through my dress. “And it’s not for the love of my life. It’s for the girl who stole it.”

My wrist on his chest bent backward. He pinned me with his eyes.

Me. He was talking about me.

“Grayson?”

I jerked my head at the voice, heart pounding for a new reason. Charlotte du Lac approached him in a pale-pink ball gown with intricate flowers embroidered in the thin tulle. The skirt was so big it looked like an overturned teacup. Her long black hair was pulled back, curls falling in waves down her back.

It was exquisite.

She was exquisite.

Grayson was still looking at me—still pinning me.

Then slowly he turned to see who had come.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here…” she said, brows knitted on me.

Find him here.

He’d brought her here. I don’t know why that cut me so sharply. It wasn’t like I was special.

“I know we’re supposed to be keeping everything somewhat on the DL, but what about one dance?” Her spaghetti strap bodice pushed her breasts up every time she spoke.

“Uh…” He took a step back, allowing space to breathe between us. He frowned at me, though, almost like he wanted me to say something. What? What could I say? That was his fiancée. Even if it wasn’t announced yet.

Me? I was…well, I wasn’t really anything. I was just the girl stealing their happily ever after.

This is why it couldn’t work.

This is why we were wrong.