Page 36 of Judgment Day

10 out of 10 would bang Mr. Darcy like a fucking screen door.

A stabbing pang of jealousy reared its ugly head, catching me completely off guard. I shoved it back down with a thick swallow as I skimmed the rest of the shelf.

The Count of Monte Cristo. I hadn’t opened this book since the last night I’d read it to her while she bathed. My heart felt as though it were beating on quicksand as my fingers pulled back the hard cover. There it was—bright yellow paper with curly black script, delicate and feminine.

Dear Grey, I hope one day you find what you’re looking for.

And then, I sank.

I couldn’t stop myself. Before I realized what I was doing, I was standing in her room, staring at the soft golden yellow walls and the plush beige carpet. I walked over to the bed that was covered in white and royal blue bedding. A canopy of silk curtains framed the headboard like it was made for a queen.

I swept my palm over the soft comforter and sank into the memory of Lyric sitting there, after I’d handed her Tatum’s wedding invitation, with tears streaming down her cheeks. I’d wiped them away with my thumb, then brushed my touch across her lips. Her tongue darted out and wet my fingertip.

“Why do you do this to me?” She glanced down at the erection straining against the zipper of my dark blue dress pants. “To yourself?” She looked back up at me. “To us?”

She’d asked me to break for her, and I was close, so fucking close to giving in. But at the time, I wouldn’t betray Sadie, and I couldn’t do that to Lincoln. Taking her then would’ve meant taking away her choice. I was far from sainthood, but I’d refused to becomethatkind of monster. Lyric was mine to protect, not mine to use.

So, I’d kept my distance.

Fucking idiot.

TWENTY TWO

Over the pastcouple of months, I realized I’d spent all those years in love with the idea of Sadie. I loved the queen she was when everyone was looking. I loved the girl who had run into the woods with me without question. I loved her quiet innocence, and I loved that she gave it to me. I loved who we used to be. Neither one of us was that person anymore. Time had changed us. Life had changed us. Or maybe we hadn’t changed at all. Maybe this was who we were all along.

At some point in our lives, we all went through hell. Walking through fire was a necessary evil. It molded us, either into warriors or into demons. Sadie didn’t walk through the fire. She’d made a home there. She’d sat on his lap and seduced the devil himself. I’d spent years thinking it was my duty to save her. Blaming myself for what happened. Thinking if I got her back, I would be absolved.

I was Pip, searching for my happily ever after.

Now, I realized maybe I was destined to be the first Dickens ending, not the second. I’d gotten over Sadie’s betrayal. I’d moved past her deceit. All with the help of Ciaran. Somehow, he made everything worth it. He took that void and made it whole again.

Tonight was Chandler and Anniston’s engagement party. Who would’ve guessed it would take a curious princess to bring Chandler Carmichael to his knees? This was the first time I’d been to the palace since I confronted Sadie. She’d left two days later. I’d tracked her to London, then lost her. She hadn’t been to see Winston. She hadn’t even tried to find Ciaran. She’d used her royal title to gain access into the homes of dignitaries and celebrities, staying wherever, with whoever she could. I didn’t care where she went or what she did, as long as she stayed the fuck away from my son.

Men in tuxedos greeted guests at the front door, requesting their personalized invitations. The sound of the band playing modern music in classical form floated from the ballroom, down the grand hallways. There were servers and flowers and ladies with diamonds dripping from their necks. It was the fairytale, and I felt like the dark knight.

Chandler was standing in the corner with a Shiner Bock in his hand. Anniston was floating from guest to guest, playing the role of regent to perfection.

I grabbed a glass of whiskey, then walked over to meet him. “Congratulations. Although, I don’t know how you did it.”

He lifted his bottle in cheers. “I had a little help,” he said, glancing down at his crotch. “Or abighelp, I should say.”

“Jesus, they’re actually going to let you be king.”

“Consort,” he added as he took a drink. “I basically just stand here and look pretty.”

I took a sip of my whiskey. “Well, you’re already fucking that up.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re an asshole?”

I smirked. “Not today.” I took another sip, savoring the smoothness of the alcohol as it glided down my throat. Then, I pointed with my glass toward Anniston. “What are you doing over here with me when there’s a beautiful woman waiting to celebrate.”

He gestured around the room. “This is all for her. My idea of a celebration is giving her a plump, red ass and back-to-back orgasms.”

I lifted a brow. “I can make everyone leave if you’d like.”

“But we just got here,” someone said behind me.

I turned to acknowledge Lyric’s familiar voice and froze. The room suddenly grew small and quiet. The music and chatter were muffled noise now. She’d lightened her jet-black hair to a chestnut brown, and it fell over her bare shoulder in long, loose waves. She wore a floor-length, strapless, champagne-colored dress made of satin that tightly hugged each of her curves. It dipped into a slight V between her breasts, pushing them up and out, cupping them,like a lover’s hands. I searched for the telltale outline of panties where the fabric clung to her slender hipbones, swallowing hard when I found none. My gaze lifted to the delicate line of her collarbone, her bare shoulders, the column of her neck, grazing every inch with my eyes, unhurried, the way fingertips would.

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