by Andrew Grey
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
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Copyright
Taming the Beast
By Andrew Grey
The suspicious death of Dante Bartholomew’s wife changed him, especially in the eyes of the residents of St. Giles. They no longer see a successful businessman… only a monster they believe was involved. Dante’s horrific reputation eclipses the truth to the point that he sees no choice but to isolate himself and his heart.
The plan backfires when he meets counselor Beau Clarity and the children he works with. Beau and the kids see beyond the beastly reputation to the beautiful soul inside Dante, and Dante’s cold heart begins to thaw as they slip past his defenses. The warmth and hope Beau brings to Dante’s life help him see his entire existence—his trials and sorrows—in a brighter light.
But Dante’s secrets could rip happiness from their grasp… especially since someone isn’t above hurting those Dante has grown to love in order to bring him down.
To Terri Brisbin, for inspiring the story in the first place. Yes… this is all your fault, and I hope you love it.
Chapter 1
“DANTE, YOU have to go to this dinner,” Simon Yates, the attorney for the Bartholomew Family Foundation, said as he crossed the large room lined with filled bookcases. It had been Dante’s father’s office and was now Dante’s through an unholy bargain that hung around his neck like an anchor chain.
“I arranged for the Foundation to send a check. That should be enough,” Dante growled, banging his hand on the desk as he pulled himself to his full six and a half feet.
Yates paused at his outburst but showed no sign of bowing to the intimidation that Dante had been going for. Yates cleared his throat. “The check isn’t going to be enough. You have a public relations problem and you know it. The little league initially returned the check from the Foundation, and the elementary schools had to be convinced to accept theirs. That isn’t good. These organizations always need money, but they had second thoughts about accepting it from you.” Yates shifted his weight from foot to foot. That was good. It meant Dante’s tactic was working.
“If the money isn’t good enough for them, then they can go without it and be damned. I’m not going to ask someone to accept my foundation’s donations. Do you hear me?” he shouted, glaring at Yates. “I’m through with this. I work hard and keep most of the families in St. Giles employed and fed in one way or another. I spend a lot of time traveling to open new markets and meet with customers who will buy our products, the ones that are the lifeblood of this….” He swallowed and tried to head off the rage that threatened to boil up from inside. How dare they! “I keep this town running when others have fallen on hard times. And do I keep the money I make? No! I put the profits into the Bartholomew Foundation and make sure they get distributed to the groups that make everyone’s life better. And I ask for nothing in return other than for them to leave me alone.” Dante sank back in his chair, and Yates took a step closer to the desk.
“You know the rumors that have swirled around you for years, and now they’re growing and turning into a kind of town legend. People need to see you, meet you, because when you aren’t growling and acting like a general asshole, you can be a personable and caring man.” Yates stood his ground even as Dante lifted his gaze, seconds from lashing out. Yates was the only man who dared speak to him that way. Maybe it was because he was nearing seventy and had been his father’s lawyer before the old bastard died. Or maybe it was simply because Yates had been around when Dante had taken his first steps. “Just think about it.”
“Fine.” Dante sighed, wishing to hell Yates would just leave. “Is there anything else?”
“I have these other potential donations for the remainder of the year that the Foundation board has reviewed for your final approval.” Yates handed him the list, and Dante looked it over. “This includes the donation for tonight. There is also a venture that the board thought would be advantageous for us to undertake. The diner in town has been empty for a year, so we thought we’d purchase the building, renovate it, and see if we can find a tenant to lease it from us.”
“Fine….” Dante handed the list back. “Now can I go back to work so I can make more money?” He raised his eyebrows.
“The dinner tonight is at seven. I’ll be there, and we need you to come.” Yates didn’t budge even though Dante had clearly dismissed him.
“You’re like a dog with a bone.” Dante picked up a set of contracts from his desk, intending to get to work. Maybe if he ignored Yates, he’d just go away.
“Yes. And you need to do this. The people in this town haven’t seen you, other than glimpses in the pottery works, in two years. You either stay in this house or come and go in that limousine of yours that looks like a glorified armored car.” Yates came even closer, until he was leaning over the desk. “They call you the Beast of St. Giles.”
Dante coughed and sat back, blinking.
“Ah, so you haven’t heard. Well, it’s true, and it’s going to affect business and the people working for you. So, you have to put an end to this. Go to the dinner, smile, be charming, talk to a few people…. It isn’t going to kill you.”
Dante wasn’t so sure of that. Allison had always been the one who went to parties and said the perfect thing while handing out the big ceremonial checks. At least she had been, at first. Dante pulled his mind away from that line of thought. He’d banned anyone in his household from speaking about her, and he needed to stop thinking about her. If that was even possible with his guilt surrounding her memory, the burden he had to carry forever.
“Probably. But what are the attendees at the dinner going to think about eating with the Beast? Maybe I’ll give them indigestion.” He returned his attention to his contracts. “I said I’d think about it.”
Yates turned to the door. “I’ll find Roberts and tell him to make sure your tuxedo is ready for tonight.” He pulled open the door to leave and closed it with a thud that reverberated through the room.
Dante slammed down the contracts on his desk. He had no intention of going anywhere, least of all making some ridiculous public appearance to try to shore up his reputation. He knew well enough what the people in town thought of him, in his house perched high on the crest of the hill above the town. He certainly didn’t need to hear it from them firsthand.
He sighed and went back to work—after all, there was plenty of it.
The door opened and Roberts walked in, carrying a lunch tray. He placed it on the side of the desk and turned to leave, but stopped before he got to the door. “I have your clothes for tonight prepared for you, and I took the liberty of having your car made ready.”
“I’ll take the limousine,” Dante said, picking up a piece of bruschetta from the plate. He loved them, and Harriet made the best ones, with just the right amount of onion and the freshest tomatoes.
“It’s developed a knocking, so I had it taken in for service.” Roberts met his gaze when Dante looked up, hoping his feelings on that were shown in his eyes. “I have the convertible ready for you.” He left the office and closed the door before Dante could say anything more.
It was a conspiracy—that was the only word for it—and he was pissed. Dante swiped his arm over the top of the desk, sending the papers flying and fluttering to the floor. He stood, stomped
to the door, and threw it open with a bang that reverberated through the wood-paneled hall. He saw no one, which was probably good. Didn’t anyone understand that he only wanted to be left alone? Apparently they all knew better than he did about what was good for him and what he needed. He climbed the stairs, stomping to alert those nearby that he was on his way.
Dante went to his bedroom, closed the door, and entered his private bathroom. He turned on the cold water to splash some on his face. Dante caught his reflection in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw behind his eyes. They seemed cold even to him. But things were what they were and he couldn’t change them. For a second he lingered, looking at himself, before drying his face and walking away.
He returned to his office to find the papers back where they’d been and his lunch laid out on the desk—Roberts being his usual efficient self. Dante sat down and ate, not really tasting what he knew was an amazing lunch. Harriet always made sure he was well fed. She was a dear, but he rarely saw her, just like he rarely saw anyone anymore.
He went back to reviewing and signing contracts, then left them for Roberts to send to the business office to be executed. His day done, he returned to his room to find his tuxedo laid out for him, along with a deep red bow tie and cummerbund. Dante groaned and looked away from the things, but sighed before picking up the tie and running the soft silk through his fingers. “All right, you old goats. I’ll go.” He put the tie back where it had been and went to his bathroom to shave off his five o’clock shadow—he didn’t want to look like Homer Simpson—and then stepped under the hottest water he could stand for a shower.
Over the years, he’d tried more than once to wash away the stain of what he’d done, but there was no way to do that. It would stay with him forever, and he wasn’t going to be able to leave it behind no matter how much he might have wanted to.
Clean, he tossed his dirty clothes in the hamper and went to his room to get dressed. He got his pants and shirt on before Roberts seemed to know he was needed and knocked softly on the door before entering.
“Let me help you.” Roberts attached the gold-and-onyx shirt studs and the cuff links before tying his tie and making sure it was perfect, then helping Dante into his jacket. “You look stunning.” He stepped out of the way so Dante could look at himself in the mirror.
Dante nodded, pleased with his appearance. He sat on the bed to pull on his socks and the mirror-shined shoes Roberts had set out for him.
“There. Now no one will be able to keep their eyes off you.”
Dante humphed. There wasn’t anyone at this dinner who was going to want to pay special attention to him. He could look as good as anyone in the history of mankind, but it wouldn’t matter at all. Everyone in town seemed to think they knew what had happened and had made up their own minds. Dante wasn’t going to change them, so he stayed away.
“I need to go to Paris and London for business in the next few weeks. Could you please arrange the travel for me? I left the dates on my desk.” After tonight, he’d wrap up the business he needed to in St. Giles and escape to Europe for a while. He had plenty of business to attend to, and he was always happier over there. He had friends there who knew nothing of his past, and that was exactly how he liked it.
“Of course.” Roberts handed him a set of keys. “The car is out front. Now, have a good time and do what you need to.” He brushed what Dante figured was imaginary lint off Dante’s shoulders and then stepped aside.
“Thank you.” Dante left his room and descended the stairs of the house where three generations of his family had lived. As a kid, he’d loved this place, with its rich woodwork and the paintings and sculptures his mother had collected throughout her life. Now it was a showplace… for one. Well, that and the people who worked for him. Others rarely saw it, and even then got no farther than the hall and his office. He’d closed up much of the rest of the house. Why have the staff clean rooms that were never used and weren’t likely to be used again? Well, not in his lifetime anyway, and who knew who’d live here after he was gone. It wasn’t as though he’d ever have children, much to his late father’s chagrin.
Dante walked out of the house to the midnight-blue BMW that sat right out front. Its top was already down, and he stopped and took a deep breath. He could do this; it was only a car. Dante slid behind the wheel and turned over the engine, which purred to life. He’d forgotten what it felt like to experience this car, and Dante put it into gear and glided out of the drive and down the hill toward the town, the clean, refreshing night air clearing some of the cobwebs from his head.
He turned at the main stoplight in town, then continued out to the Community Center to the north. The Foundation had built the building under his father’s tenure, and shit and blast if it didn’t have their fucking name in big letters on the side. As soon as he saw it as he pulled into the lot, Dante gripped the wheel tight. He was directed to a spot right up front, and after putting up the top, he made a call. “Yates. Are you at this fundraiser yet?”
“Of course.”
“Then you saw the side of the building?” he gritted through his teeth.
“Of course.”
“I want you to have those damn letters removed and rename the place the St. Giles Community Center. My father might have liked everyone knowing every stupid little thing he did in perpetuity, but that ends. Can you do that for me, and as soon as possible?” He ended the call without waiting for an answer and got out of the car. Taking a deep breath, he walked toward the entrance, which was festooned with arches of fairy lights wound through white flowers. He smiled when he saw it, remembering that his mother loved white roses.
A few people congregated outside, talking. They turned toward him, the women with a look of surprise as their conversations stopped, and then they all moved out of the way so he could pass. He half expected them to curtsey or something, except for the shock and fear in their eyes. He ignored it, went inside the building, and stepped into the foyer, which had been decorated with more arches. Waiters in white shirts weaved through the crowd, all decked out in their finest, the conversations swirling through the room like a trapped fog that wasn’t able to dissipate or escape.
There was a wave of silence as the collective talking came to a stop and all heads turned toward him at the same time. One of the waiters approached, and Dante took a glass of champagne from the tray, thanked him, and continued on through the room. He’d known it would be like this and had been stupid to even bother coming. The town rumor mill had had plenty to feed itself on over the years, and it seemed the stories had gotten bigger with each retelling.
“It will be all right,” Yates said as he came up and stood next to him.
“Do you think I care what these people think?” Dante asked, then drank, emptying half the glass. “God, this stuff is awful.” He set the glass on a nearby tray. “Is there a bar?” He hoped so. Maybe two or three double whiskies would do the trick.
“Yes. It’s in the room off to the side over there.”
Yates seemed exasperated as Dante stomped off to get himself something that would make this night tolerable. There was a line, but it evaporated when people saw him, and he practically walked up to the bar. He ordered and paid for his drinks, placed a nice tip in the jar, and left the room before the whispers could start. For two years he’d stayed away, putting on a brave front, but…. Dante raised the glass to his lips, downed the first of his scotches, and set the glass aside. He held the second one, intending to sip it for a while.
The waves of people seemed to part, and Dante got a glimpse of a brown-haired man with intense blue eyes standing on the other side of the room. His nose was crooked and he was a little gawky. Handsome wasn’t a word that Dante would have used to describe him. He had seen better-looking men, but few with the intensity and drive that churned in those blue orbs. His tuxedo looked at least one size too big for him, and his shirt was a little wrinkled. Dante barely noticed. What he saw were those fiery eyes and a pair of lips turned up i
n a smile as he spoke to the short lady in front of him. Dante had seen plenty of beautiful people, but few of them captured his attention the way this man did.
“Yates,” Dante said as his lawyer passed nearby, tugging him off his path. “Who is he?” Dante didn’t dare take his gaze off him for fear that he was an illusion and would disappear into the crowd and Dante would never see him again.
“Beau Clarity. He runs one of the programs at the Center. That’s the reason for tonight’s fundraiser. We’re expanding counseling services here, and he runs the program.” Yates brushed something off Dante’s arm.
“How is that possible? He looks like….” Words escaped him. An angel, or maybe it was the devil himself in an ill-fitting suit but with a nose and face that stopped Dante in his tracks. Beau chuckled and then laughed, adding to the glitter of the evening with the joy in his eyes.
“I’ve only met him briefly. It’s my understanding that he’s somewhat older than he looks. Granted, at my age, all of you look like children. He’s got a master’s degree in counseling, and from all I’ve heard, he’s very gifted.” Yates excused himself as everyone was ushered into the large community room, which had been transformed into a garden of delight with flowers of every description.
The sweet scent filled Dante’s nose, and everywhere he looked there was color, something to delight the eyes. Even the beams overhead that supported the room, utilitarian as they were, had been transformed into a magical canopy with vines and lights. He nearly walked into one of the tables, he was so fascinated with what was around him.
Others seemed to be finding their tables, but Dante wasn’t sure where he was expected to sit, if anyone had actually been expecting him to show up at all.
“Mr. Bartholomew?” a young boy of about eight said in a soft voice. “I was asked to show you to your table.” He raised his hand, and Dante hesitated before taking it, letting the child lead him through throngs of people as chairs slid along the floor and a crush of conversation and movement nearly drowned out the thoughts in his head. “Mr. Clarity said you were supposed to sit here.” He smiled, pointing to a seat.
