Heartless Hero Read online

It was meant to be cutting, not a confession. Of all her siblings and family members, Abigail received the least attention. At least, that’s the girl I remembered. Sad. Lonely. Like me.

  But the girl I remembered was never real. She was always spoiled and privileged; she just did a better job of hiding it.

  Her glare sharpened. “And that’s you?”

  I ground my jaw, pressed my arm tighter, trying to ignore the way her breasts rose and fell beneath it.

  It used to only be me, but like everyone else, she abandoned me. She stomped on my fucking heart. Left me bleeding, lonely—and just like with my mom, for years I wondered what I did to make her leave.

  Anger made my voice raw. “Unfortunately. I’m your bodyguard.”

  She laughed, blew out a breath that made the dark strands of her hair whisper against my jaw. “You’re the asshole ruining my life. And you know what, I don’t even know why! Why are you doing this? I don’t understand what happened to make you this way. You didn’t used to be like this. You used to want to help people. I remember the boy whose biggest dream was to save kids like him.”

  Her words nearly made me drop my arm.

  Yeah, I didn’t dream of being a bodyguard. My life’s goal wasn’t making sure assholes like Beryl Crowne could safely keep being assholes.

  “Don’t you remember?” She peered at me. “You wanted to make sure no one was left behind, no one was abandoned. What the hell happened to you?”

  Abigail didn’t just play games, she played dirty. She really was so fucked up that what happened between us meant nothing.

  I pushed her deeper into the wall, her nails clawing the wood behind her, and my free hand wrapped around her neck. Her lips parted, too pretty and fucking distracting.

  “What the hell happened to me, Abigail?” I didn’t recognize my voice. It was low and without feeling, venom the only thing left. “You fucking happened to me.”

  “Let me go,” she breathed.

  I leaned forward until my lips were against her ear, my words singeing her skin. I dug my thumb into the hollow beneath her jaw and ear, torn between the part of me that wanted to mark her and destroy her.

  “You’re stuck with me,” I growled.

  “What about Gemma?” The bite to her words had me pulling back. There was anger in her eyes to rival mine.

  The fuck about Gemma? She had an entire legion of security forces.

  A moment later, the head of security came through my earpiece.

  False alarm. All clear.

  I let them know I’d heard the message, still studying Abigail, locked on her anger. She rubbed the spot where my thumb had been. I ground my jaw. I wanted to pull her back, rub the spot out with my thumb. Fuck.

  Possessive.

  Too fucking possessive when I came here to ruin her.

  I should take her back.

  Put much-needed space between us. Get my head clear. I needed to focus on why I took this job. I had a win today. I’d separated the daddy’s girl from her only living father figure.

  “Well, we have some time to kill. What should we do?”

  “I have an idea,” Abigail said. “You shut up and I’ll stare at the ocean and imagine I’m anywhere but here.”

  She walked to the other side of the one-room cottage, sitting on a stack of crates covered in thick, ropy fishing net, folding her arms. I leaned against the wall, one foot propped. True to her word, she stared out the window.

  “You really fucked up this time, Reject. No daddy alive to love you. No grandpa to pretend to love you.”

  Abs shifted at my words but said nothing.

  “Is that why you’re so angry, Reject? I’ll be your daddy, if you ask nicely.”

  Eyes still out the window, she said, “Fuck. You.”

  I shook my head, halting my smile with my tongue. “That’s not very nice.”

  The whistle of swan wings sounded. I walked to her, taking a spot next to her against the window, blocking her view. She shifted her eyes to the door, muttering, “Asshole.”

  “You think that’s all I am?” I pulled one of the crates from the stack beside her. It caused the one she was on to rattle, and she fell to the floor.

  I stepped on either side of her, pinning her with my legs so she couldn’t get up. “If I was only an asshole, you wouldn’t have anything to fear.”

  She stared up, eyes wide and betraying her hesitation, before she shook it off with a glare. I bent down, leaning forward until I could taste her breath, placing a knuckle to her chin. She jerked but didn’t move.

  “When I make you cry and scream, it’s because you’ll like what I’m doing so much…” I placed my other hand on her bare thigh, just beneath the hem of her dress, and she swallowed, throat bobbing. “You’ll beg me not to stop, Reject.”

  I trailed my knuckle along her jaw, stroked behind her ear, and grasped her silky hair, tugging her ear to my lips.

  “And now you have no one left to love you. No one. Not your daddy. All you have is me.” I licked her ear, tongue caressing along the shell, top to bottom, before biting the lobe. She breathed in a way that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. I tightened my grip on her hair. On her thigh. “Only me.”

  At the same time she shivered, she said, “Stop.”

  There was no force in her voice, but I did. I stood back up, and she tried to scramble away, but I stopped her with my shoe, digging into her thigh.

  “Let me go, dog,” she spat.

  Her dress had ridden up, her panties now visible.

  “God, you’re so fucking wet.” I laughed, then kicked up the rest of her dress with my other foot. “Is that for me, or are you really a whore?”

  I wanted to rub my thumb across the lace between her thighs. Press the fabric against her. Feel how wet she was.

  I dug my heel into her thigh.

  “You look like you need to be fucked, Reject.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Nah…” I shook my head on a smile. “I don’t fuck rejects, but admit all you have is me, and maybe I’ll touch you.”

  I dug my shoe into her thigh until she gasped. Her eyes found mine, lips parting. Wet. My eyes fell to them, to the way her spoiled, pouty pink lips parted, her tongue begging to lick them.

  Was she enjoying this?

  I shifted, and when I spoke, my voice was hoarser. “You want me to let you go? Just say the words. Admit the truth and I will.”

  She didn’t speak, but her breath was like the wings of the swans outside, and she was wearing the most painfully see-through white lace panties.

  Fucking white.

  Fuck. I was hooked on that.

  “Say it,” I pressed.

  My heel would leave bruises on her thigh.

  “Just say it,” I growled.

  Fuck.

  I was losing myself. I used to torture myself over what Abigail Crowne sounded like as she came. Turns out, it was nothing like my imagination. My imagination was a scratchy recording compared to this. She was a live symphony.

  And she wasn’t even coming; this was just the fucking prelude.

  She gripped the ropy netting behind her for dear life.

  “Do you still want me to let you go?”

  A heartbeat passed like an eternity, and then she whispered, “No.”

  I took my heel off her thigh, kicked apart both of them until she was obscenely spread and I could bend down between them. Moonlight made her eyes bolder, rawer.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t.” I caressed my knuckle along her jaw. “Maybe I should rip off those panties and finally find the truth of you, see how wet and wanting you fucking are.”

  In that moment, I almost did.

  I almost kept going. Nearly slid my hand inside her thigh, up to those torturously tempting white panties, inside to what I’d been dreaming of since the day she’d picked me up on that fucking beach. Would she be hot, as wet as I’d imagined? Would she moan when I slid inside her? No… Abigail Crowne would be a meteor shower.

  Qui
et, magical, over too fast.

  I untangled myself from her, standing up slowly. I didn’t bother adjusting myself. Abigail’s stare focused on my jeans, before she tilted her chin.

  Her wide, violet-brown eyes were still hazy. I was always thankful for being sent to California; at least I didn’t have to see Abigail every time I looked out the window. The night sky there didn’t glow the same dark-red indigo. Back here… I can’t say the same.

  I dragged my thumb across her still-parted bottom lip. “Told you it would feel good.”

  Shock and recognition hit her at once, and she tore her face from mine.

  “Can we go?” Her voice shook.

  “Sure. Threat’s been gone for a while now.”

  I couldn’t see her face; she’d hidden it in shadows. When she didn’t respond, I bent down until we were eye to eye.

  “Are those tears?” I reached out to thumb them.

  She slapped me away. “Leave me alone.”

  “Is that really what you want, Reject?” I thumbed her chin. Abs tried to jerk away, so I gripped her hard, yanking her back. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was her red eyes. The fact she still hadn’t fixed her dress. Or it could be the pounding in my chest that wouldn’t stop. I don’t know. It happened in a split second. One minute she was glaring, the next I was kissing her.

  Hard. Brutal.

  Addicting.

  Until sanity returned, and I let her shove me off.

  When I was done her cheeks were wet, her glare was fierce, her bottom lip bruised from my teeth—and her taste was fucking imprinted inside me. I wiped her off with the back of my hand, as if it would do something. Then I threw her a smile.

  “Remember, I’m the only one you have left.”

  Seven

  ABIGAIL

  Theo and I climbed the stairs to my wing in silence, and he took his place just outside the doorway to my bedroom. Part of me itched to slam the door, but I knew I’d lose that battle.

  I couldn’t lose another.

  I’d said nothing to him on the way back, but I wasn’t a fool. That didn’t give me any bit of power. He’d stolen it the moment I’d urged him to go further.

  Outside the Swan Swell after-party was in effect in the gardens, the trill of laughter and music floated in through one of my windows.

  My dress had been made months before and once again required aid to put on, but Story still wasn’t anywhere to be found. I refused to let Theo help me get dressed again. I’d learned my lesson. So, I tugged on a black, plunging-neck dress with a lace bodice that hugged me much too well for this kind of party. It had a sheer black-lace stomach and a flowing black velvet skirt, with two high slits up my legs.

  The Swan Swell dress code was a strict white.

  What-the-fuck-ever. I guess I was going to officially embrace my role as the black swan.

  I had my leg propped on my chaise, clasping the strap on my ankle, when I saw it. My dress had fallen away, the slit showing the oval bruise on my thigh. Light, but it would darken.

  Just say it.

  I couldn’t breathe, heat crawled up my neck, consuming my oxygen. I should hate him. I should. I shouldn’t wonder what it would feel like to have his marks elsewhere visible, for everyone to see.

  He’d treated me like dirt.

  Stepped on me with his fucking shoe.

  And I… liked it?

  I wish I could say there’s nothing left in our relationship, but that would be a lie. Theo and I are inverse, a dark, twisted version of love. We’re still connected, but not through sweet words, through torment and ache. Theo is still inside me. He’s still in my heart.

  Now he’s just determined to break it.

  I touched the bruise just as Theo’s bored voice drifted in: “Hurry up, Reject.”

  Theo was looking at his phone when I came to the door, but he looked up at the sound. He all but froze.

  “What?” His silence made me uneasy, almost as much as the foreign look in his eyes. I fought the urge to fist the velvet skirt of my dress.

  Apathy returned, and he shoved his phone in the inner pocket of his suit.

  Theo was divine in a tux. I’d never had a problem with our guards matching our clothing to blend in, but then I’d never had Theo as a guard. I thought casual Theo was gorgeous, but it was nothing to him in a tux.

  I still wasn’t used to seeing Theo so dressed up. He’d come to parties with me in the past, but like everything else with us, I’d had to sneak him in.

  It was perfectly tailored to his tall, lean build, and his bedhead brown hair made him look casually elegant.

  “Trying to catch flies?” he asked wryly.

  I blinked and closed my mouth. I hadn’t realized I’d been staring, but Theo watched me with a smirk. I rolled my eyes, shoving past him and making sure to elbow him hard, not speaking the entire way to the garden.

  When we reached the garden, he stood beside me, just a little behind, like the good bodyguard he pretended he was.

  In the garden, women were dressed in flowing white dresses with feathery white fans, and swans floated in the fountains—PETA loved this party. There was an empty seat at the table where Grandpa would have been seated, I noted with an ache.

  The ocean was dark. Twinkling lights floated like fireflies. Swans glowed in the backlit fountain and feathered their wings, drops of water flying as diamonds before disappearing into the night.

  By the maze, hidden somewhat but the tall hedges, I spotted servants setting up fireworks. If there’s one thing a Crowne loves, it’s fireworks. We do them all summer long, culminating in a huge show at our Fourth party.

  “I thought you would’ve pulled an Abby by now,” Theo said quietly. No one would’ve known he was talking to me. “You know, started a scene, thrown a few priceless vases.”

  I looked at him out of the side of my eyes, then back at the party.

  He took a drink, then paused, looking at his water. “Did you put salt in my drink?”

  A small smile curved my lips.

  I had.

  “Your revenge is very Home Alone.”

  It wasn’t my revenge, of course, but I couldn’t resist the urge when he’d left his glass unattended. There’d been a time when he’d done the same to me. I’d told him I’d get him back.

  That was a month before Gemma… I never got the chance.

  Anguish strangled my heart.

  “That’s not even clever…” He pulled out an ice cube, shaking off stray water. “I did it first, Abby.”

  My eyes popped, but before I could even think about the fact he remembered our pranks, ice was pressed against my lower back, dripping a cold trail. I tilted my head to see. His hand had disappeared inside the open back of my dress, and his hand must be holding the ice cube.

  I shifted, the spot where he pressed burning cold.

  Theo arched a brow. “Something wrong?”

  I refused to capitulate, instead focusing on the empty chair where my grandfather would have sat.

  Grandpa was the one person who paid attention to my Christmas list, the only one who checked in on me after another tabloid fiasco. I thought he was my constant. In the end, though, Theo only proved what I already knew, love is conditional. Some people were obvious about their strings, but everyone has them. If you love someone, it’s only a matter of time until they take it away.

  As if she knew I was thinking about parental neglect, my mom appeared. Dressed to the nines as always in a bespoke, flowing white dress that may as well have been haute couture.

  She eyed my outfit. “What are you wearing?”

  I swallowed, the ice dripping down my ass, sliding deeper. “A dress.”

  Her frown deepened. “Sarcasm isn’t clever or cute, Abigail.”

  “But it…” Melted ice inched closer and closer. “Is…” Farther down between my lips. “Efficient.”

  Theo laughed, so low only I heard him. He glided the melting cube down my dress, hand slipping inside my panties, along
my ass, until he had the ice pressed cold to my lips.

  “And where is your fan?” my mom asked.

  “Uh…” I couldn’t focus, looking around, wondering if people could see what was happening. Theo stared forward, at my back like the good bodyguard he was pretending to be, meanwhile he was spreading me wide with a freezing-cold ice cube.

  I focused on not making a scene.

  If I moved, Theo would win. If I moved, Mom would know.

  “My what?” I breathed as the cube spread me wider, frigid cold. His fingers hadn’t touched me, but I was too aware we were separated only by slowly melting water. Theo Hound, who’d once made dirty promises and now promised to ruin me, was millimeters away from my most private of places.

  “Your fan.” My mother’s perfectly plucked brows caved in disappointment.

  Theo started to press the cube inside me.

  I jumped forward, breaking contact. I could breathe again. I waved my black-feathered fan in Mom’s face, forcing her to step back, needing a distraction myself.

  Theo Hound’s fingers had almost been inside me.

  “Honestly!” she said, fixing unseen flyaways in her updo. “Have you spoken with your grandfather?”

  “My… my grandfather?”

  It was a perfectly innocent question. Everyone knew Dad and I had the swan tradition, and with him gone, Grandpa had continued it. But I couldn’t answer the question.

  After everything with Theo, I’d forgotten about earlier. My grandpa. The rose. For over a year I’d been relentlessly harassed. First it was social media. After blocking him, it was emails. I could only block so many of those. Then it was letters. Then it was strange coincidences. A single gilded rose waiting on the hood of my car. Another rose waiting for me at my favorite boutique.

  People like me can’t go to the police because “a Crowne doesn’t call 911, they call their lawyer.” The first time I heard that was on my fifth birthday—or, rather, remember hearing it.

  This was the closest I’d been to the person who left the rose; usually it’d been there for hours. An icky feeling lurked in my gut. What had he planned? What if Theo hadn’t been there?

  My gaze collided with Theo just as he dropped the nearly melted ice cube in his mouth.