She’s pathetic.
Honestly, it’s not even the drugs—addiction is a disease, right? It’s the fact that she’s been lying and pretending to be so fucking perfect.
The whole Crowne family is fucked up. You saw what they did to their grandfather?—
“Hey, princess.”
I startled at the voice, quickly shoving my phone back in my clutch.
He can’t be here.
None of them can. This was the most exclusive tearoom in Crowne Point. As if to defy my inner voice, a heavy, muscled, and leather-clad arm landed on my shoulder.
“You can’t be here,” I whispered.
Lock spun me to face him and grabbed my chin, dragging my eyes to his icy-blue ones—a mean, deceptive blue, the color of thin ice right before you fell through and drowned.
“People will see you,” I said.
Seeme,see all the dark secrets I’d managed to hide, the soul-deep bruises I’d covered.
Lock leaned forward, his head shadowing us. “Aw, afraid your friends won’t like me?”
His inky-black hair fell haphazard over sharp brows and sharper blue eyes. The stenciled bloody hemlock on his neck flexed with his muscles and veins.
I swallowed, refusing to let him see my uncertainty and fear. “They wouldn’t even let you in the fucking bathroom.”
“Why don’t you let me handle that?” Lock grinned slow, easy, and leonine, then stepped back. “After you, princess.”
NINETEEN
GEMMA
The conversation dulled when I entered, linen suits and bodies clad in floral turning.
I was used to being the center of attention, but I’d weathered enough scandal to know the difference between awe and bloodlust. They stared and whispered, lips hidden clandestinely beneath teacups.
Everyone was staring at me—because of course they were. Gemma Crowne—perfectGemma Crowne, America’s Princess, the one who was always so good at showing how much better she was—brought a criminal to the tea party.
A sweet, floral smell wafted from the clusters of purple and blue wisteria dripping down the walls and ceiling. I stared out at the circular tearoom and let nothing on. Posing and smiling was as involuntary as breathing now, thanks to Tansy Crowne.
Lock laughed. “The fuck even is this, princess?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said, looking over my shoulder.
Sure it was a tea party, but not really. It was where we came to show off how wonderful we were. How perfect we were. How much better we were than everyone around us.
I turned forward.
If you focused, you could see where the wisteria roots were digging into the wall, starting to uproot the plaster. What a perfect flower choice. Like everything in my world, it hid a destructive truth through a beautiful facade.
The familiar waltz of civility continued on outside of the ten-foot bubble Lock’s presence created. If my world was great at anything, it was at ignoring the elephant in the room.
But I saw the way they looked at me.
She’s losing it.
Oh, poor girl, probably never got over her ex dumping her.
