I fought the urge to bite my nail, instead digging into the windowsill beside me. His blue eyes seemed to glow brighter in the dark.

Grayson Crowne was more than gorgeous; he was divine. There was a reason girls fell at his feet. He had more Instagram accounts devoted to him than could be counted, his Twitter stans ruled supreme, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to tattoo his name for attention.

Grayson Crowne was infamous, notorious; he had the world begging for just a look—and he knew it.

The Crowne family’s iconic rose gold hair fell wild over his eyes, straight but reckless, like him. The only thing marring his perfect features was a slightly crooked nose, from one too many fights. Considering the Crowne’s on-retainer plastic surgeon, it said more about his personality than it did his bank account.

Maybe it was a warning that he, too, was unhinged, because of all the people to piss off, Grayson Crowne was the worst.

“What are you going to do to me?” I finally asked.

He tilted his head, lids heavy and bored. “Are you one of those chicks that gets off on punishment?”

I opened and closed my mouth before finally managing a very witty and eloquent: “I—huh?”

He took a step toward me, and I wanted to step back, but I was already flush against the window. “You must have heard what I do to the servants who make eye contact with me.”

I quickly looked at the floor, shock and fear fighting to pound the drum in my chest. Almost ten years I’d lived in Crowne Hall and I’d never once looked a Crowne in the eyes. What made me think I could look Gray in his?

He was the worst of them all.

The cruelest.

Maybe even more so than his mother, Tansy. One time a guard accidentally caught Gray’s eyes while saving him from a crazed fan. The next day he was just…gone. No one knows what happened to him, but people have theories. Some even think he was deported—even though he was a United States citizen.

Another torturous moment passed, and I knew he’d stepped even closer to me, because his bright-white sneakers came into view. Sneakers I knew cost more than a mortgage payment, that he would wear once then toss.

“Go get your shit out of whatever dark hole you’re living in,” he said.

Shocked, I snapped my head up, catching his eyes once again. He arched a dark-blond brow, and I quickly looked away.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Why?” I finally squeaked.

Would I be like the guard? A ghost story the servants told each other?

When Gray finally spoke, every nightmare I imagined paled. “You’re coming to my wing.”