he promise you Jack?”
Her eyes popped. “West died in the tragic plane crash with your father and I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Liar,” Lottie wheezed. “You liar. You think I don’t know about you and Jack?” she screamed. “You love him. You don’t love me.”
Mrs. du Lac paused, looking around at the gathered crowd. Her gaze shifted, searing into mine. “You’re a mother now. What would you do, if your child’s perfect life was about to collapse under the glass heel of one stupid, flighty girl?”
I stepped closer. “I couldn’t care less about your opinion of me. I think it would be rather odd to put stock in the moral ramblings of someone so clearly devoid of them.”
“It’s time for you to go, Mom,” Charlotte said, voice strong.
“But first.” I handed my trash to Mrs. du Lac. “Could you please throw these away for me?”
Mrs. du Lac sputtered, her nostrils flared, then she lifted her chin and walked through a slew of paparazzi at the gates.
Grayson’s eyes found mine across the police and paparazzi flashes. He pushed through the crowd, when a whirlwind surrounded him—paparazzi, police, greedy partygoers still dressed in their best. They all followed him, glued to his every movement.
Beryl Crowne had just been dethroned, and they saw what I saw, the crown on his head, now straightened.
If he couldn’t get to me, then I’d run to him.
GRAY
Paparazzi swarmed me while I looked for Story. I’d just seen her before they descended. Without any guards, it was a lot fucking harder to get rid of them.
Grayson, how long have you known?
Grayson, how do you feel now that you’re leading the company?
Grayson—
I pushed one out of the way.
Grayson—
And another.
“Grayson.”
I stopped short at one voice saying my name so different than the others. That husky, sweet tone that lived in my blood.
Story stood in the middle of the paparazzi, a fucking vision in white tulle and bare feet. Her wild curls sticking to her face, her plump lips parted.
I shoved the two paparazzi flanking her out of the way.
I wasn’t sure if the pounding in my ears was the sound of my blood, my breathing, or the cameras going off.
Story tilted her neck back to see into my eyes. “Hi, Atlas.”
I crushed her to me, holding her between her shoulder blades.
Breathing her in.
I knew the cameras went off by the heat, and the click click click.
“Who is she?” Flash.
“It’s her—the Cinderella!” Flash.
“Story Hale,” someone corrected. Flash.
I pulled back just enough to pull out the locket she’d given me.
“My wife,” I growled. “She’s my wife.”
She ran her touch all over me, my head, my neck, settling atop my shoulders.
She angled her lips to mine.
I could feel the urge to kiss, it sung in my blood as well.
I snapped the locket into place, holding my palm over the gold. The cold metal sandwiched between her beating heart and my palm.
My heart. Because it always belonged to her.
“Your shoulders look strong, Atlas,” she whispered, fingers curling into the fabric above my shoulders.
I lifted my eyes, finding her stony hazel ones.
With my free hand, I gripped the back of her neck, pulling her forehead to mine. “I thought you fucking died.”
“I came back,” she said, husky against my lips. “I promised you I always would.”
Her lips teased mine, begging me to kiss her.
If I kissed her now, I wouldn’t stop.
I’d fuck her on the grass while the world watched. And I wanted to. I wanted to slide inside her and pound until the feeling holding my chest hostage dissipated—the one that reminded me every minute how close I came to never holding her again.
But I needed to know something.
“Where is she?” I growled against her lips. “Where is my daughter?”
STORY
“Gemma!” Gray bellowed, throat rough and ragged with the yell, after I’d told him where Sonnet was—with his sister.
Anyone still gathered on the lawn froze, turning to stare at Grayson. I didn’t blame them, the way he’d yelled demanded anyone in a nearby radius to stop.
“She’s inside,” I said. “Hiding her in her wing.”
Without further word, Grayson dragged me inside. His grip bruising my wrist; he pulled me down the halls, yelling Gemma’s name like an invocation.
Gemma ran out of her wing, eyes wide. “What?” Her eyes bounced between me and Grayson. “Did it work? I… I’ve been watching from my window but I have the worst view—”
“Where is my daughter?” Grayson growled.
Gemma looked to me. “Is it over?”
“Where is my fucking daughter?” Grayson snarled.
“All right, okay, I see how it is.” She threw up