I wasn’t surprised by his threat. I was pissed at myself for not seeing it coming.

“We have a very generous mistress package, Grayson. I don’t give a shit what happens to her so long as you marry du Lac. Keep her as your mistress, deport her to Switzerland—whatever, just make sure she doesn’t get pregnant.”

I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, keep her as a mistress. Even if she got hit on the head and decided she wanted to be mine.

Which meant Story and I were finished.

“I’ll send her back to the servants,” I said.

My grandfather froze. “That’s funny. So she can tell them Cinderella stories? No. She needs an official title as mistress, and we can start the damage control.”

“And if she doesn’t want to be my mistress?” I hedged.

“She is done living here. Though, I would hurry and decide…” Grandfather said absently. “I think Lottie is arriving soon.”

STORY

I woke up alone in Grayson’s bed, and for a soft, cottony moment, was happy. Then I opened my eyes and saw the person at the foot of the bed. I scrambled to pull the sheets against my chest.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Tansy asked.

She smiled warmly at me, looking so elegant in her white dress and blood-red shoes.

My face flamed. “I…no…”

“Grayson is preparing for the arrival of his fiancée.”

There was a song we sang in elementary school to annoy our teachers. The song that never ends…it just goes on and on again. As Tansy smiled down at me from the foot of the bed, all I could think was, This is the nightmare that never ends…it goes on and on again.

“He told everyone last night. He loves me. He wants to marry me.”

“Oh, dear.” Tansy smiled, but it was vicious. Her pretty smile dripped oil. “History is written by those who own the pen, and we own the pen.”

She tossed a few papers at me.

Playboy Gray Has Eyes Only for His Future Wife.

Grayson Crowne Smitten with Charlotte du Lac.

“In the end, all that matters is who he marries. As I’ve said before, we have a very competitive mistress package. A house. A monthly stipend. Holidays. For someone like you, it’s more than generous.”

Mistress.

I couldn’t breathe. I mashed my lips together and stared at the sheets.

“We simply expect birth control and abortion, if necessary. Oh, and keep your mouth shut.” Anger bit off the last word.

“I don’t want to be a mistress,” I croaked.

“I didn’t want three ungrateful children and a philandering husband, but fate doesn’t take bribes.” She stepped on the sheets hanging off the bed, forcing me to grapple with them so I wasn’t exposed. “He isn’t Abigail. He has responsibilities. This ends no other way for you.”

Threat hung heavy and dark.