Heartless Hero Read online

  He laughed. “Nothing half the world hasn’t seen already.”

  He spoke to me like I had to him just moments before, but a stab of hurt sliced through me.

  Everyone had seen me, because I’d been betrayed the same way Theo had betrayed me. Getting out of a car to paparazzi who’d been tipped off, after being persuaded to go commando by people I thought were friends. Kissing an actor on a yacht who thought it would be hilarious to kiss the famous train wreck and let the world see.

  As if he knew I was hurting, he said, “I’m disappointed. I thought it would take more than one night to break you.”

  The only thing not completely stone on his hard features was the slight mocking lilt to his soft-as-sin lips.

  Without another thought, I tore off my satin nightie and threw it at his head. The fuck you was apparent.

  For a split second, shock registered over his features. Then heat blazed, peppering goose bumps along my skin like tight-fitting lace.

  I was utterly naked in front of Theo for the first time in my life, and all he did was stare. We’d shared dirty promises, but we’d never fulfilled them. A cool ocean breeze whispered across my nipples, and I fought the urge to cover myself.

  I wouldn’t lose.

  All at once he slammed the French doors shut so hard they rattled.

  I stayed there in the center of my walk-in closet, the plush carpet cushioning my feet as I fisted my hands.

  I couldn’t decide if I’d won or lost.

  I’d had years to train for this. Every guard assigned to me either quit or relocated. Theo Hound wouldn’t know what hit him. He wanted to play?

  Game. On.

  The town of Crowne Point is known for three things: my beautiful sister, my playboy brother, and the time I pulled the First Daughter’s extensions out at our annual Fourth of July barbecue. In my defense, she “mistook” me for the help.

  The help doesn’t wear bespoke Zac Posen.

  Bitch.

  We’re a small eastern beach town nestled at the southernmost tip of New York, home to some of the wealthiest people in America. My grandfather, of course, and the people he’d made rich. Years ago, when my great-great-grand daddy made his money in railroads, we’d been one of the first and most important commercial lines, and Crowne Point used to be an industrial hub. Now that stop is a tourist attraction, and my family is involved in everything from fertilizer to Big Pharma. Chances are there’s something in every home that's made us money.

  We make the Hamptons look like a trailer park. It’s almost hard to believe we came close to losing everything. My home, Crowne Hall, was as much a landmark as the swans inhabiting our beaches. It’s visible from anyplace in Crowne Point, and from Main Street, you can see the jutting black towers past the olde-style shops.

  Most importantly, my family owns this town. People outside of Crowne can’t really understand what it’s like to live here. A journalist did a piece on Crowne Point once and called us an “entrenched monarchy hidden inside America’s East Coast,” like it was a bad thing.

  There’s a hierarchy.

  A way to things.

  You’re either royal, or you’re not.

  We have a native swan population people travel from all over the world to see. In the summer their populations surge for a few months. In a few hours, this place would be crawling with tourists and townies alike, flocking to see the hundreds of swans that consume our beaches the week before the Fourth.

  “Today is seriously still important to you?” Theo asked, eyeing me.

  “No,” I responded too quickly, giving myself away. Historically, the Swan Swell had always been one of the only times my grandpa came home, and he’d come hold the swans with me.

  It was a tradition I’d had with my father, and when he died Grandpa stepped in. It meant the world to me.

  Theo laughed, obviously picking up on my lie.

  I glared.

  “Those are so pretty!”

  I blinked out of my glare, finding a pretty young woman eyeing my earrings.

  “Did you buy them here?”

  She gestured down Main Street where various pop-up shops and artisan craft stalls had appeared overnight. During the Swell, Main Street closed down to make way for them.

  I touched my found-glass earrings with a smile.

  “No, afraid not.”

  “Do you mind telling me where? I would love to have a pair.”

  Love to have a pair.

  I glowed at her words. I have a secret, one I’m certain Theo has forgotten about, and one I don’t want him to remember. He’d nearly discovered it this morning in my desk. I make jewelry, and someday dream to study the art in college. I only ever use found items, because there’s magic in revealing the beauty of what people discarded.

  I smiled at the woman. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember.”

  She frowned but accepted my lie.

  I watched her walk away, disappearing into the crowd forming in Main Street. There was a warmth in my stomach that wouldn’t easily dissipate. When she complimented me, it was so much more poignant than the millions I’d been showered with simply for being a Crowne. Those compliments were like everything in our world, done for vapid, unyielding custom.

  But that woman complimented me.

  When I finally looked back, Theo was watching me with too much interest.

  “You have a nickname too, you know,” I said casually, fingering seashells on a pop-up shop’s stand. It was my secret dream to have my own shop and one day have my jewelry for sale for women like her.

  My secret, unobtainable dream.

  Theo spared me a look. “Trying to get in my head?”

  String lights drooped overhead that would glow in the evening, and we would soon be shoulder to shoulder.

  You can always tell the difference between a tourist and a townie. Townies know us. They glance at us. Tourists stare.

  “Just wondering if you remembered, if you knew you were Crowne Point’s very own lost dog. What’s it like not knowing who your parents are?”

  “What’s it like knowing yours, and knowing they don’t love you?” he responded easily, sounding bored.

  I glared. “My dad loved me.”

  “Mmm… past tense.”

  I ground my teeth.

  Focus.

  “I need to use the bathroom.”

  Theo narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

  When we got to the bathroom, Theo tried to push his way inside first. I jumped in front of him, blocking the doorway. His hair was wilder in the salty humidity, sticking up yet still soft looking, falling over his piercing eyes.

  “You have to be kidding.”

  “If only,” he deadpanned. “I go everywhere you go, Reject.”

  “I’ll tell everyone you’re a pervert,” I threatened. A leonine smile spread his plush lips, and he leaned forward, forcing me to arch and strain my back to get away.

  “Then I’ll have to make sure what you threaten comes true.”

  My lips parted, momentarily stunned by his response. So many of my guards had been concerned with reputation. All it took was one artfully placed threat and they kowtowed.

  “Stay outside and I won’t lock the door,” I said it with a glare, but I knew I was negotiating with him, and I itched to slam the door.

  A spark glittered in his pale eyes, and I swore he knew what I was planning, but then he shrugged and gave me his back.

  I slammed the door and focused on the window at the back.

  There’s an underground in Crowne Point. A place where elite and townies collide in mutual drug-fueled non-judgment. It takes place about a mile east, in the old amusement park on the now-abandoned pier, once called Crowne Park, now known colloquially as Horsemen’s Wharf. It was named after the four boys who oversee it, who run the meanest gang in town. I never really interacted with them, and that was a good thing.

  The Horsemen take pride in their drugs, to the point even people like Grayson begrudgingly acknowl
edge they have good, clean shit. The Wharf is also one of the quickest places to score.

  I kicked over the trashcan, hoisting myself up, shimmying my legs through the window, trying not to think about Theo. There’d been a time when he’d lifted me up through windows, and we’d jumped down together.

  I released my grip, hopping to the ground.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Shit!” I jumped at Theo’s voice, falling back against the brick wall, heart racing. Did he really remember our move?

  As if he could read my mind, he said, “You haven’t changed.”

  His clear green eyes roamed my body. My satin black tank scorched beneath them, and I jumped back to this morning, when I’d been in nothing but my silky pajamas. I hardened my glare, refusing to fold my arms.

  With a wicked grin, eyes lingering on my chest, he added, “Strike that, you’ve changed some.”

  I fought the urge to kick sand at him.

  “Wanna tell me where you were going, or should we do it the fun way?”

  I stayed silent.

  He rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, watching me. “There isn’t much around here.” He focused on me. Studying me. Digging into me. Once again it was like he was reading my mind.

  As if he was commanding me to do it, my eyes traveled left, where, in the distance, barely visible against the darkening sky, was the decrepit Ferris wheel that marked Horsemen’s Wharf.

  “The Wharf? Really?” He sounded disappointed in me.

  He pushed me against the brick wall. “What was your plan, Reject? Go to the wharf, get some drugs, put them on me, and call Grandpa Crowne?”

  Yes.

  Dammit.

  It had worked with so many of my other guards.

  Theo kept pushing into me, knee grinding up against me in ways I liked too much.

  “Get off me.” I tried to push him off and he gripped my wrists.

  A cruel smile spread those devilish, heart-shaped lips. “Are you still a virgin?”

  I felt like a doe about to be caught in the jaws of a mountain lion. For a brief moment, I showed him my neck. Ice-cold water drenched my spine, and I locked eyes with him. No one in the world would accuse Abigail Crowne of being a virgin.

  But Theo had never been just anyone.

  I quickly shook out of it, re-dropping my walls, but I took too long to respond. “No.”

  He laughed.

  Hiking his knee up just a little bit, pressing on that deep, aching spot inside me.

  “You are.”

  There was wonder in his voice, but it was drowned by the cruelty. It reminded me of a photo I’d seen of tourists on a beach taking selfies with a dead baby dolphin.

  Vicious delight.

  I’d done everything but—so technically I wasn’t. Right?

  “This changes things.” He pressed his knee hard, and a traitorous gasp fell from my lips. I hated myself for grabbing onto him, wrinkling his shirt.

  His touch threaded into my hair, pulling my head, exposing my neck. “How much would you give me to make your first time magical, Reject?”

  “I’m not having sex with you.” Why did my voice shake?

  Another laugh.

  Trying to see his eyes, to calculate his next move, caused a painful strain in my neck. It was so much easier to give in. Give in to his fingers digging into my hair, massaging one minute, and bruising the next.

  I tried to focus on my breathing, but the more I did, the more my lungs shrunk. All I knew were his soft lips on my ear. His breath too hot, burning up my neck. His knee causing a curling ache inside me I’d never known.

  An ache threatening to consume me.

  His lips were so close to my flesh. Something deep and traitorous inside me screamed kiss me. Bite me. Mark me.

  “I won’t do it,” I said, voice breathy and treacherous.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” he said. “You’ll give me so much.”

  My eyes flew open at his dangerous words.

  His lips fell on my neck.

  “Theo?”

  At the voice, Theo dropped me like fire and stepped back. My hand came to my neck, where his lips had left a venomous tattoo, threading into my blood, turning my view hazy as a sunset. I couldn’t string together a thought.

  I needed to get my shit together, because a few feet from us was a man in a dark-gray, three-piece suit despite the summer weather. He was almost as famous for the look as he was for his ruthless business practices.

  Mr. Beryl Crowne, aka the third richest man in the world, aka my grandpa. Theo’s boss, the only person to ever show me affection outside of Theo, and Theo’s meal ticket.

  Beryl Crowne had been accused of many things—and indicted for none. He was a man who cared as much about his reputation as he did the price of his company’s stock. Anyone to ever publicly accuse him of something nefarious either rescinded it within the next few hours or ended up… curiously missing.

  “Oh, did I forget to mention Grandpa’s home?” I said to Theo, manufacturing a frown. “I saw his motorcade right before I went to the bathroom. Must have slipped my mind.”

  Grandpa loved Theo like the hardworking son he lost too early, and like the diligent grandson he never had in Gray. He’d been grooming Theo for a position in Crowne Industries since I picked him up off the street. The distinction was clear, though. Theo wasn’t blood. He wasn’t a Crowne. Don’t date my granddaughters, don’t even look at them, and don’t get any ideas about biting the hand that feeds you.

  Theo stood there, dumbfounded.

  I adjusted my top, acting like whatever happened between Theo and me was nothing.

  It was nothing.

  I ran to my grandpa.

  “Papa!” I jumped into his arms.

  “Princess…” He caught me in a hug, tone skeptical. “What did I just see?” He looked over my shoulders at Theo.

  “You’ll have to ask Theo, Papa. You know I would never do anything to disappoint you.”

  Papa had been called a megalomaniac, a narcissist, a sociopath, but he was the only one who ever gave me the benefit of the doubt.

  Pantiless photo? Topless on a yacht? Three-way lip-lock? All the result of unscrupulous reporters.

  If only my grandfather had been around more. The only time I saw him was for a few days in the summer, and occasionally—if lucky—on holidays.

  Grandfather and I separated, and after agreeing to meet up for our swan-feeding tradition, I walked back toward Theo, who still wore a shocked look.

  “That was my plan,” I whispered, walking by Theo.

  Me: 1

  Theo: 0

  Five

  ABIGAIL

  I watched my grandpa and Theo talk, trying to read their lips as I held a baby swan. My grandfather was frowning; Theo was frowning harder.

  Abigail! Abigail! Give us a smile.

  A few feet to the left of me, reporters snapped pictures, their bright flashes stinging my eyes. I ignored them. It was all I could ever do. I squinted harder, past the flashing, trying harder to see my grandpa and—

  Rules.

  Ha! I jumped, unable to control my happiness. I’d caught that word. Grandfather had mentioned the rules. No looking me in the eyes and definitely no touching. Theo was getting his ass handed to him. Maybe he’d even get sent back to LA.

  “What are you smiling about, Abigail?” a reporter yelled. I glanced in their direction.

  “It’s a beautiful evening,” I murmured.

  It was the time of night when the sky looked like a painting as day faded. The stars were diamonds caught in a swirling purple-orange-pink watercolor above us. Tourists were flocking to the beach to watch the swans. Adult swans were way too mean to hold or even go near, but there was a little embankment where you could feed the baby ones.

  If you were a Crowne, you could even hold them.

  My eyes traveled down the soft, white-sand beach dotted with swans, a diaphanous memory of sixteen-year-old Theo, glittering beneath
the pier.

  I’ve never told Theo why I stopped for him. Not the truth. I made it seem like it was a rich girl’s whimsy, and I think that was the only lie he ever bought.

  He’d been sitting on the sand, smoking underneath the pier. I drove by him three times before I made the driver stop. I’d just been called back from my boarding school, Institute Le Rosey in Switzerland, mentally steeling myself for the years ahead. I didn’t have many friends at Rosey, but I had zero in Crowne Point. I hadn’t liked the plan to return home, but I wouldn’t do anything to disappoint my grandpa.

  You’re not supposed to be alone. Forget what the world tells us about soul mates and family. It’s something you feel, the very essence of loneliness.

  Theo had it.

  He radiated it.

  He was the only person I’d ever seen like me.

  All at once, Grandfather walked away from Theo, and I was torn from the memory. I took a step, lips caught on a word. Grandpa was supposed to come hold the swans with me, but if Theo was glowering, whatever happened with my grandfather wasn’t good.

  Grandpa probably had to walk it off. His precious protégé had disappointed him. Still, I watched my grandfather disappear into Main Street, gut clenching.

  I plastered on a smile as Theo came to a stop next to me. “Rough chat?”

  He said nothing, though he shifted and held his arms behind his back. I ignored how it made his biceps pop beneath his hoodie.

  “I’ll understand if our little relationship is coming to an end. Nice try, though.”

  I stroked the feathery head of my swan. Theo stared straight ahead. His brown hair fell unruly over his gemstone eyes. His nose looked like it had seen some fistfights. There’d been a time when this wounded, broody boy smiled for me…

  I shook that intrusive thought away.

  “Did you know swans mate for life, Abigail?”

  The hairs on my neck rose. He was calling me Abigail, not Reject, but it wasn’t sweet. The calm way he spoke reminded me of the moment in a horror movie before the monster jumped out of the dark.

  “Yes…”

  “When they lose their mate, they grieve like us. They mourn. They’re never the same.” He wasn’t looking at me, but down the beach like a good bodyguard, scanning for threats.