Beauty's Cursed Beast Page 9

  Belle busied herself picking up where she’d left off, cleaning the ballroom with the staff after she sent out his mail.

  11

  Adam the Philanthropist

  “I told you not to peek!” she chided him, and then leaned up on tiptoes to cover his eyes.

  Adam sighed, but complied. “Surprises are childish. I already know what I’m going to see. You do this every time you finish cleaning a room. There’s the grand unveiling, then my look of feigned surprise, a congratulations to you and the staff, then I’m allowed to continue about my day.”

  “This time, there’s an elephant.”

  “An elephant?” He frowned, but kept his eyes closed behind her dainty hand. He was standing in the hallway, waiting for Belle to build up the suspense enough to suit her whimsical nature.

  “It was hard to sneak past you, but I think it really pulls the whole room together. I was thinking we could open a petting zoo. Wouldn’t that be fun? I know how much you love having people in and out of your home.”

  Despite his best attempts to remain stoic, Adam laughed through his nose. “A petting zoo with an elephant? My, that is inventive. And inside my castle, too? We’ll have to charge top dollar for admission.”

  She led him forward, smiling that he was getting better at trusting her, moving where she pleased with his eyes closed. “Oh, we won’t charge for tickets. I’ve decided you’re going to become a philanthropist.”

  Adam scoffed, turning his chin in her direction. “Oh, you’ve decided, have you?”

  “Yes.” The cloud of melancholy he used to live in visited him far less frequently since she’d moved in, but it settled on his shoulders and weighted his levity on occasion. “Soon enough, I’ll be one of the attractions. Children can come in and throw scraps of bread at me. Adam the Lupine.”

  Belle stiffened and brought her hand down from his eyes to cup his cheek, making sure he saw only her. “Hey. You’re not a beast,” she assured him. “I’m looking at you right now, and I can see that you’re a man.”

  It was becoming more frequent that Adam found he didn’t mind Belle’s little touches. No one made the effort to touch him before she moved in. Even Rory and Henry had kept their distance to respect his penchant for a thick bubble of personal space. But Belle ignored Adam’s hang-ups, prancing closer and closer until they’d gotten to the point where he craved her delicate fingertips brushing over his cheek when moments of misery gripped him. This time, he met her effort halfway, and pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes shut tight. “Tell me again,” he begged.

  “You’re a man,” Belle assured him, taking in a drag of the cologne he’d started wearing. It was faint, yet utterly intoxicating. She was so taken with the fragrance that she had to remind her own personal space bubble not to vanish completely each time it infiltrated her senses. Whenever it seduced her, she fought hard with the desire to lean in for another inhale, and still another. She cleared her throat. “You’re a man who appreciates the elephant I got him.”

  “I hope you searched around for a bargain.”

  “Why bother? I just charged him to your account. You said to buy whatever we needed for the household.”

  “And we needed an elephant?” he teased, enticed by the sweetness in her game. His lashes lifted, filling his vision with the wonder that was Belle up close. Perhaps in his younger years he might not have pursued a beauty like her. She had an elusive allure about her, whereas he’d preferred women who put their curves on display. He’d been drawn to the bawdy laughter and the scantily-clad legs. But with Belle, there was a subtlety that hooked something deeper inside of him, drawing him in when usually he’d pull away.

  Belle blinked up at him, equally transfixed until she dropped her hand and all but jumped away from his side. Color haunted her cheeks, and though she tried to remain unaffected, the green of his eyes played on her unexplored desires.

  It was Adam’s turn to tease her, once he recognized her pink hue for the compliment it was. “Are you blushing?”

  “No!” she protested, feigning being appalled at the notion. When he sniggered, she scrubbed the sweetness from her cheeks. “Oh, shut up, or I really will buy an elephant and charge it to your account.”

  Adam’s chest puffed out with pride that hadn’t filled his masculine nature in almost a decade. He’d given up on desire, or being found desirable by anyone, but once upon a better time, he’d been one of the most sought-after bachelors in the land. He knew that blush, and reveled in the color of it on Belle. “I think this is the part where you show me the surprise.”

  Belle kept her chin down to conceal her chagrin, and motioned to the third living room that had been checked off the list. “Ta-da.”

  Though Adam had known this would be the surprise, he rolled out a dramatic gasp for her sake. “Wow! You really did a number on this room. I admit, I didn’t even remember that we had teal antiques.” His eyes fell on the ornate furniture with rounded edges that had been restored to actual usefulness. “My mother picked out that vase. She always had pink roses in it. One time, Lucien put orange lilies in it, and within the hour, they were switched out and given to the mailman.” His eyes clouded over with the memory, picturing his mother fretting over the flowers with her usual eye for detail. “She was particular like that.”

  Belle was quiet for a few beats. “Do you think she’d like the setup of the furniture? Where would she have wanted the couch?”

  Adam motioned to the far wall. “Well, it used to be over there, near the window. She would read while I did my lessons when I was a boy.”

  Belle crossed the room and put her hands on one of the ends. “Help me move this?”

  It had taken only two weeks for Belle’s sweetness to wear down his acerbic demeanor. He didn’t even question his feet that moved where she beckoned, gripping the other end of the couch to help her shift it over to the window. “I can do this. It’s too heavy for you. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  Belle smirked at him. “I’ve got news for you, pal. I lift patients for a living. I got the elephant in here easily enough.”

  Adam chuckled as they scooted the couch into place, bringing the whole room into a more familiar focus for him. “Speaking of which, where is my brand new elephant? He seems to have wandered off.”

  “Weird. I gave him a piggyback ride into the house. You know, he probably has to go to the bathroom. I told him to use your bed as his toilet. I hope that’s okay.”

  Adam lost count of how many times he laughed in her presence, but appreciated each moment of lightness he’d assumed it was fine to live without. The laugh led to a deep, barking cough he’d never been able to shake.

  When he collected himself, he glanced around the freshly cleaned room, taking in the lemony scent of the floor polish that really made the dark hue of the hardwood shine. The main rooms had marble floors, but the smaller ones had the coziness of wood, which looked even more inviting when cleaned. It was strange how right Belle looked, standing by the couch with him. Though the room was decked in antiques and fine furniture, and she was clad in scrubs, she was the most captivating thing in the space.

  “Let’s test out the couch, shall we?” He slid onto the cushion, recalling the stiff backing he’d squirmed against many times in his youth. It brought back memories of studying Latin next to his mother while she looked over legal documents for the family business.

  Adam patted the space next to him, and suddenly a flood of vulnerability swept through his insides. Just as quickly as it rose up in him, the anxiety faded when Belle sat down at his side.

  The urge to drape his arm around her shoulders caused his forearm to tense up, wondering if that would be far too forward. He was constantly aware that he might spook her, or perhaps spook himself if indeed she was comfortable enough with him to allow such things. He’d never been so self-conscious before, but now he questioned every move, to the point of freezing completely next to her like a scared schoolboy.

  When she yawned, he began to
see a slight tiredness etching itself around her eyes. “Did you sleep alright?”

  “Something like that.” She cracked her neck and leaned into the cushion, taking a deep breath. “The Lupine were especially vocal last night. Kept me up for a bit with their howling.”

  In truth, the incessant and angry howling frightened her. She’d clutched the comforter tighter around her, and asked Simone to sing her a song to drown out the nightmares she was sure were coming.

  Adam’s mouth tightened in a firm line. “They do that sometimes to remind me my time is coming.”

  “It’s fine. I’m being a baby about it.” Belle smiled at her handiwork, a restfulness relaxing her sore shoulders. The staff had given them a bit of privacy for the unveiling, noting that each time Belle showed Adam a new part of his house that was able to be used again, the two drew an inch closer. “Do you like it?”

  “It looks wonderful. I can’t believe how quickly it’s all coming together. It seems like every day, I add new available rooms to my free zoo for children.”

  It was subtle – an accident, even – but Adam felt Belle’s smallest finger brush against his. She didn’t pull away at the closeness, but left her hand there, connecting herself to him as if she had a right to try something so brazen. He didn’t pull away, but savored the smallness of the connection, wondering if the simplicity of the touch was what made it feel spectacular.

  “You got another unmarked letter today. Lucien left it for you on the counter in the kitchen,” he said quietly, broaching the subject she always shut down. “He burned the last one before I could sneak it out of the trash bin and read it.”

  Belle stiffened, but didn’t pull away. With her other hand, she adjusted her shirt, arranging it around her as if checking her armor to be ready for possibly attacks. “Thanks. I’ll throw it away later.”

  He let the silence build until he could endure it no more. “Who are they from? It’s your fourth one since you moved in.”

  Belle opened her mouth to speak, but Adam’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He’d forsaken his pajamas during the day, and wore business casual around the house. He noticed that his pressed dress shirts always managed to draw Belle’s gaze, so he made sure Lucien had a full selection of nice clothes ironed and ready for him.

  “Yeah?” he said on the phone, his usual gruff demeanor just a few degrees lighter, until he heard the voice on the other end.

  “Hey, Adam. Are you busy?”

  Adam stiffened and stood, but didn’t leave the room. His heart picked up with nerves that came from guilt he’d never been able to reconcile. He’d wronged Rory when last they’d spoken. They both knew it, but she’d never called him out on his selfishness before. Now there was a rift between them, and he’d refused to apologize for it. Oh, he’d written her countless letters berating himself for not coming to her aid sooner.

  “Sleeping Beauty” is what the papers had called her. His childhood friend had fallen into the coma that had been predicted since her birth. Before she’d fallen, she begged him to try to wake her with “true love’s kiss”, as the counter-curse advised, but they had both known it wouldn’t work. Adam wasn’t in love with Rory, nor did she feel that way about him. Still, as the deadline neared, she pleaded with him to try.

  Four months. He’d waited four months before braving the outside world to go and see her. It was a crime she’d never forgiven him for, and he refused to apologize for leaving her in her slumbering state without trying to wake her for that long.

  That she was calling him now? Something had to be wrong. “What is it? Is Remus alright?”

  Rory’s quiet voice was gentler than it had been the last time they’d spoken, when she’d yelled at him to stay out of her life. “Uncle Remus sends his love.”

  Adam scoffed. “Remus hates me. Always has.”

  “Remus is smart like that,” Rory teased him.

  “What do you want?” he asked without preamble, phone clutched in his hand.

  “I wanted to say thank you. No, more than thank you. I had no idea you thought about our fight at all. I figured you were glad to be rid of me.”

  Adam’s brows furrowed. He nodded to Belle when she excused herself from the room to grant him a little privacy. “What are you talking about? Thank you for what?”

  “For apologizing. I admit, I wasn’t sure you were capable anymore. I was so angry with you for letting me sit in that hospital for so long without trying to wake me. That you see how messed up what you did was?” She paused, and Adam steeled himself against the emotion in her voice. “I forgive you, Adam.”

  Adam frowned, affronted and confused. “You forgive me? It was never going to work, and I told you as much from the start. I couldn’t break your curse, so I came down when I could. I have a company to run, if you didn’t remember. Several, in fact. And I did come for you, and I did try to wake you, but all I got from you was heaping piles of guilt for not coming fast enough when you snapped your fingers.” He began to pace, his anger rising again as he balled his fist at his side. For two weeks, the knot in his sternum had loosened so much, but it was back now, tightening as his conscience warred inside of his chest.

  Rory’s softness melted away. “So your letters were all a lie? Why apologize to me so beautifully if you didn’t mean any of it?”

  “What letters?” Adam stilled, recalling the countless notes he wrote out to his childhood friend, confessing his culpability in the mess. He’d poured his heart out in those pages, knowing he would never send them. It was a ritual he did whenever he felt the need to say things he knew he never could. He would write them in a letter, then address and seal it, and then burn all the letters every so often, expunging himself of having to publicly own up to the humiliation of being wrong. “I never sent you any letters.”

  “Why are you doing this? I know your handwriting. They were sent from you, and they made everything better! Why are you trying to break us all over again? I swear, Adam, I know you better than anyone, but I’ll never understand you!”

  He could hear her tears over the phone, and clenched his jaw. She’d always been the more emotional of the three of them. Henry knew how to handle Rory when she got worked up, but Adam had never acquired the patience for comforting women. It was only fair; he never permitted them to comfort him, either.

  He heard Rory’s husband, Cordray, in the background. He arrested the phone from her to speak to Adam directly. “This is the last time you’ll ever make my wife cry. Never call her again.”

  Then then line went dead, leaving a pit of perplexity bobbing in Adam’s chest. He slid his phone back into his shirt pocket and made a beeline for his second bedroom, throwing open the door to find a stack of mail, but his letters to Rory nowhere in sight.

  “Lucien!” he roared through the hallways, bringing the candelabra ambling up the steps as fast as he could come.

  “Yes, Master? How can I help you?”

  “Have you been in my second bedroom?”

  Lucien held up his hands. “No, sir. I know no one’s allowed in there.”

  “Well, someone’s been snooping in here, and they mailed out letters that weren’t supposed to be sent!”

  Lucien backed away, seeing the familiar flare of temper that had abated in the last two weeks. “I don’t know what to tell you. Perhaps you mailed them by mistake?”

  Adam hadn’t set foot in his second bedroom in a week and a half. It was the room he reserved to torment himself. The enormous oil painting of his former countenance served as the therapeutic slice through his wrists and kept him in his dismal state. He hadn’t felt the draw to that room quite so often since Belle had livened things up.

  Adam’s nostrils flared. “Has Belle been in the West wing?”

  Lucien’s guilty expression said it all. “I’m not sure.”

  12

  No Longer Welcome

  He hadn’t yelled in too many days. The unleashing of his volume felt like a release, admitting to himself that he was already the monster
he would one day permanently become. “Belle!” Adam ignored Lucien’s pleas to calm down as he stomped through the hallway toward the staircase. “Belle!”

  She scampered to the expansive foyer, running up the steps in her thin blue scrubs. Concern tugged at her features as she reached him at the top of the wide staircase. “Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” She looked him over, but it did nothing to soften him.

  On the contrary. He chose to see her concern as meddling, which he had a low tolerance for after years of journalists trying to weasel their way into the private life of the most notorious shut-in. “Did you go into the West wing?”

  Belle tilted her head at him, confused that this was the source of his upset. “Today? No. What’s wrong?”

  “Have you been snooping in the West wing?”

  Belle shrugged, trying not to shrink under his visible anger. He was tall, but somehow he seemed impossibly more gigantic as his temper reached new heights she hadn’t seen in person. “Of course not. I mean, you left a bunch of documents and mail on the table in the dining room last week, so I brought them up to you. I saw some letters on the table, so I mailed them out for you, but that’s all. I didn’t touch anything important.”

  “Nothing important? Do you realize what you’ve done?” he shouted in her face.

  Belle took a step back, shocked at how quickly they had gone from hints of closeness to out-and-out yelling. Belle refused to get louder, knowing that never worked to fuel effective communication. “Adam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad. I thought I was taking something off your plate to make your workday easier.”

  “No one asked you to do that! In fact, the only thing I’ve asked you to do was to stay out of the West wing!” He glanced down at himself angrily and unfastened the top button of his dress shirt, feeling foolish at how much he’d allowed her to disrupt his home since she’d come to him. “You changed my food, changed my clothes, changed my house, and now you’ve wrecked one of my oldest friendships. Are you happy?”