Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
And loved.
I swallow hard. “You know I’m not a doll you need to cart around and move yourself, right? I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”
He looks up from where he’s gone to one knee before me to dry my legs. The position is another echo of the past, of the moment when our carefully balanced act went spinning into ruin.
Marry me, Isabelle.
No. I can’t. I won’t.
The stark pain that flashes through his dark eyes lets me know he’s remembering the same thing. He stands slowly and tucks the towel around me. “I like taking care of you.” He speaks so low, I have no idea if it carries to Beast where he’s drying off a few feet away. “I want to do it, so I do. It has nothing to do with what you’re capable of.” Layers upon layers within those words. I’m afraid to dig past the surface for fear of what I might find.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that, so I just nod. It’s enough for now. He disappears into his closet and returns wearing sweatpants and holding a T-shirt. This, at least, he allows me to pull on myself. It hits my knees, and the feeling of being wrapped up in Gaeton’s clothes is so bittersweet, tears prick the backs of my eyes. I clutch the fabric to me. “I missed this.”
“Me, too.” He passes a second pair of pants to Beast. “I’ll get food started.”
It’s only when he walks out of the bathroom that I realize he’s intentionally left us alone. My stomach does an uncomfortable flip as I look at Beast. He’s swimming in Gaeton’s pants, but it doesn’t seem to bother him in the least. Then again, nothing bothers Beast. He’s unflappable.
I force myself to stop clutching Gaeton’s T-shirt. “I’m afraid.”
“I know.” He crosses the distance between us and takes my face in his hands. Even as his thumbs coast over cheekbones, part of me is all too aware of the violence he’s done with them. Violence that he’s never once turned on me. That knowledge feels strangely like power, and I drink it up. It’s something I’ve always loved about both men, but with Beast, the difference is so stark. He leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Trust me, princess. I have this all under control.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but I’m exhausted. Handing off worrying about the future feels good right now. Maybe I’ll regret it tomorrow. Maybe I’ll wake up ready to draw my own personal line in the sand and refuse to budge. Tonight, I just want him to take care of everything.
To take care of me.
I nod against his hold. “Okay. I trust you.”
“Good girl.” There it is again, that flicker of true warmth in his blue eyes. “Let’s get you fed.”
We find Gaeton in the kitchen, lining up stuff for sandwiches. He catches me looking and shrugs almost self-consciously. “I’ll put together a real meal tomorrow.”
I try for a smile. “This looks perfect.” Things feel so fragile right now, like one wrong word will splinter our tentative peace into a thousand shards.
We are silent as we put together our respective sandwiches. One for me. Two each for them. Silent as we eat. Silent as we clean up what little dishes there are. Just when I think I might scream from the glaring lack of communication we’re capable of without someone being naked, the door’s buzzer goes off.
Instantly, both men are on high alert. I barely register the sound when Gaeton steps in front of me, like someone is going to announce themselves before they blow a hole in the fortified doorframe. I peek around him to see Beast stalk to the buzzer like he expects it to explode, too. He presses the button. “Yes?”
A tinny male voice answers. “I have the delivery you requested this morning.”
That sounds suspicious as hell, but Beast nods. “Bring it up.”
Two tense minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. Gaeton shifts slightly and I catch sight of metal in his hand. Where the hell did he pull the gun from? He must have it hidden somewhere in the kitchen because there’s no way he was hiding it in his sweatpants. Without looking, he snags my hip and pushes me back behind him, using his body to shield me. As a result, I only hear the door open and low voices as Beast confers with whoever is handling the delivery. Three slow exhales later and the door closes.
Gaeton still doesn’t relax. “Check it.”
“Already on it.” Rustling. Beast curses. “No nasty surprises, but a little birdie left a message.”
Gaeton does some creative cursing of his own. “Bring it here.” He finally steps to the side, allowing me a full view of the room. There are two small suitcases laying open on the ground, plain black and utterly indistinguishable from thousands of others like them. I recognize some of Beast’s clothing, but that’s not where my attention lands. It’s on the pretty blue card in his hands. As he crosses to the kitchen peninsula, I recognize the stylized blue seashell on the front of it. “Ursa.”