What the fuck am I doing here?
All my life I was prepared for one thing: to marry, and then my brother gave me a choice.
My mom seemed to think I could just show up and choose any one of these men, because that was what we did—we married. I used to think that too. But I was starting to realize the problem. Given the choice? Well, I wouldn’t choose to be with any of these fuckers. Nathan. Horace. They were all the same.
So where did that leave me?
Because I still wanted to be Gemma Crowne, I wanted it tomeansomething, and who was Gemma Crowne without her crown?
“You were always so out of reach in boarding school,” Nathan continued. “The top of the pack, the queen fucking bee. Not so much anymore, huh?”
I exhaled, preparing myperfectGemma Crowne response, when a scream stopped me in my tracks.
It happened so fast, I didn’t register anything until it was already over. I heard thecrackfirst. Saw how Nathan’s unctuous, smug smile collapsed in agony. Lock had reached over my shoulder, holding Nathan’s hand in a vise grip.
That was the crack.
That was why tears wobbled on his lids.
Lock had broken his fucking fingers.
Lock pulled Nathan close by his now broken hand—as if they were old friends. “Scream out again, die. Call the cops, die. Tell your friends, die. Do anything but leave through that fuckin’ ugly orange door, die. Nod so I know you’re listening.”
Nathan nodded, tears running down his face.
Lock laughed and released his hand.
My mouth dropped. Nathan’s middle three fingers were bent and crumpled at odd angles.
“Good boy.” Lock patted him on his shoulder. “Now go.”
Nathan shot me a wide-eyed look, cradling his broken fingers, and left.
I released the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Are you fucking insane? Someone could have seen.” I looked around, heartbeat like a hummingbird flapping against my rib cage. Even though paparazzi weren’t allowed inside, that didn’t stop phones.
Lock leaned against the wall, rubbing his jaw, bored.
“Why did you do that?” I asked. “You can’t just…break the fucking fingers of a guy whotalksto me. If you’re trying to destroy my life?—”
Lock stepped to me so fast my tea sloshed over the side, staining the fine silk of my sleeves caramel. He towered over me, shadowing us.
“You really think everything is about you, huh?”
I scoffed. “If that wasn’t about me, then what the absolute fuck? Why are you here? Why did you break his fingers?”
Lock bent lower, neck craning with theeffort. “Maybe I didn’t like the way he was talking to you.” His words were tainted with sarcasm, bitter and acerbic.
I rolled my eyes, and he leaned back on the wall. Arms folded, with one leg crossed over the other, crushing the purple wisteria at his back, he continued. “You’ve been cosplaying Reaper’s girl?—”
I cut him off. “I have not.”
“If you want to pretend to be the Reaper’s girl,” he continued, undeterred, “you should know what it means to wear that title.”
TWENTY
GEMMA
