Beauty’s Beast

by Black, Stasia

  I guide her through the winter garden, pointing out the greenhouse down the hill where I grow tropical plants. I offer to show it to her but she declines, preferring to amble the frosty path, her breath puffing in the freezing air. We reach the part of the hill that overlooks the labyrinth and she studies the maze of tall evergreens.

  “Who designed the labyrinth?” she asks.

  “I did, years ago. Before I owned the place. I did the one for the Autumnal ball, too.”

  Her forehead wrinkles. I know she’s thinking of that night, our meeting in the maze.

  “You know, when you fainted, I first thought it was because you recognized me.”

  She shakes her head, her gaze still unfocused.

  “When you didn’t wake, I panicked. Your pupils were dilated.”

  “I know,” she murmurs. “Someone at the ball thought I’d been taking belladonna.”

  “You had quite a cocktail of drugs in your system.” I clench my jaw when I think of it. If I hadn’t been there…

  She presses her lips together, studying my face. And I know what she’s thinking.

  “It wasn’t me. I would never do that, Daphne.”

  “Hmmm,” she says. But when I turn her to start back to the castle, she doesn’t pull away.

  “Yet another reason you should stay here,” I tell her. “We don’t know who tried to drug you. Whether it was an accident or meant for someone else. Or if someone’s targeting you…” I make a mental note to check in with my contacts in the city. I sent a private investigator to uncover more about that night, but haven’t heard anything. And I’ve been a little distracted since.

  Daphne doesn’t protest, doesn’t argue, but her steps slow as we reach the frozen terrace. She stops and stares up at the sheer stone face of the castle wall.

  “The tallest building,” she mumbles.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing. Something I read once. A quote by Joseph Campbell: ‘If you want to understand what's most important to a society, don't examine its art or literature, simply look at its biggest buildings.’” Her eyes scan the grey-green stone, the towers, the turrets.

  “My little homeschool genius.” I brush a tendril of hair from her face.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “It makes sense. In medieval times, the tallest building in a village was a cathedral. Religion ruled. Then came the political palace.”

  I study the castle with her. “And a castle? What does that mean?”

  She faces me, penetrating me with her fierce green gaze.

  “High walls,” she says. “An impenetrable stone fortress.” She tilts her head. “You don't want to let anyone in.”

  I straighten her coat and pull her close. “I let you in.”

  She raises a brow. I can hear her thinking, yes, as your prisoner. A reluctant guest, at best.

  “Come. It’s too cold.” I release her and guide her to the door, a hand on her back. She hesitates on the threshold, and it takes everything I have not to throw her over my shoulder.

  I’m putting the coats back into the closet when she says in a low voice, “You think the walls will keep me in. But I'm not the one actually imprisoned here.”

  “What do you mean?” I take her elbow and steer her to the nearest fireplace. I position her in front of the blaze, but it’s not enough. Taking her hand, I start to chafe it.

  “When was the last time you left this place? Other than the night of the ball.”

  “You forget.” I drop her right hand and reach for the left. “I waited for you at your mother’s grave.”

  She flushes, bowing her head.

  I gentle my tone, really considering her question. “But you're right. Before that, I’d been a year in this place without stepping out the front door. But what about you, Daphne? What's the tallest building in your life?” When she gives no answer, I supply it. “Belladonna. The aptly named. Beautiful woman. Poison.”

  She sighs. “We help people.”

  “Is that why your father moved the headquarters to the most expensive area in the city?” I catch her chin. “New Olympus worships power. Money. Greed.”

  “I don’t deny it. Logan, I’m trying to change it. To hold to my ideals. You could help me.” For a moment her expression blazes with hope. Then she turns to the fire, shuttering her expression, angling her face away.

  And I’ve never felt more like a monster.

  “Daphne.”

  She turns, her cheeks still pink from the chill. Gods, she’s so beautiful. She’s more than I deserve.

  And I must be crazy because I open my mouth and hear myself saying, “If I let you go, you must promise to return.”

  She doesn’t respond right away. She squints those perfect green eyes, studying me.

  “You have to promise,” I say raggedly. I’m surprised my chest hasn’t cracked down the middle, that I’m not bleeding out in the middle of the frostbitten garden. Because that’s how it feels.

  She leans into me and I almost stagger with relief. I need her close, always.

  “I’m not the one who left and stayed away,” she reminds me. She lays her hand on my cheek again, looks me straight in the eye. “I promise.”

  Twenty-Five

  Daphne

  The same kindly old cabbie picks me up in his taxi. If he’s curious why he keeps ferrying a young woman back and forth from the city to this castle, he holds his tongue.

  Logan stands on the stoop, dark and forbidding in his greatcoat.

  “I promise,” I mouth. I watch him until the road curves and the castle disappears.

  “Oh thank gods,” Rachel gasps when I call her. “The board is breathing down my neck. They’ve been here since practically dawn, holed up in the executive conference room.” Plotting your removal I hear the end of the sentence she doesn’t speak.

  “Tell them I’m on my way. I have to make a stop first.”

  * * *

  “Daphne,” my father greets me. He looks thinner than when I last saw him, but there’s a healthier flush to his cheeks. Maybe Rachel was wrong? Maybe he’s actually doing better?

  “Dad,” I kiss his cheek and stand a little ways from the bed. “I need to ask you some things. You’re not going to like it but I need to hear the answers.”

  “Is this about the patents? Because—”

  “No. Not exactly.” I take a deep breath. Steady. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened to Logan?”

  In a flash, my father grows so pale I jolt with alarm. “Dad?” I take his hand.

  “You can’t trust him.” Eyes wide, he squeezes the life out of my hand. “Daphne, please, promise me you won’t ever go near him.”

  Promise me.

  “Dad, you’re scaring me. I can’t make that promise.”

  “He’s a bad man.”

  I sigh. I can’t really deny that. Good men don’t lock women in towers or torture them in dungeons. Even if that torture was delicious…

  “I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.” Coming here was a mistake. My father is too frail to answer for his past mistakes.

  I lean forward and press a kiss to his liver-spotted brow. “Don’t worry about me. You just focus on getting better.”

  “I won’t rest easy until I know you’re safe.”

  “I’m safe. I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m headed to the office next. I’m going to meet with the board.”

  “I know. Adam called. He’s meeting you there.”

  I press my lips together. I can’t exactly tell my dad I’m going to stop the merger and figure out another way to save Belladonna without selling out to Archer Industries. Even if Adam did half the evil things Logan accused him of, I don’t trust him. Logan doesn’t trust my dad, either, but I’m sure there’s an explanation for my father’s actions.

  I just can’t ask him about it until he gets better.

  “Adam will fix everything.” Dad pats my hand. “You just listen to him. He’ll take care of my girl.”

  “I don’t
need anyone to take care of me.”

  “Nonsense. I told Adam when he called he had my blessing. He’s going to make everything right.” Dad smiles.

  I’m about to ask what he means when the new nurse walks in. “Dr. Laurel?”

  “Yes?” My dad and I say at the same time. This time he does laugh. “This is my girl,” he tells the nurse proudly. “Youngest recipient of the Avicennius grant. CEO of a top research firm at only twenty-five years old.”

  “You must be so proud,” the nurse coos.

  I force a smile to my face. I used to love when my dad talked about me this way. But now I want to make him look in my eyes as I ask: Am I just a sum of my achievements? Will you ever see the real me?

  No one knows you like I know you, Logan told me. Is this what he meant?

  “—time for your medication,” the nurse is saying. “Maybe your daughter could come back tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” I rise, leaning down to kiss my dad’s cheek. “I’ll be back.”

  “Daphne,” he fumbles with my hand. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Even if I’m no longer going to live to please you.

  Rachel is waiting in her car to pick me up.

  “You’re alive.” She looks relieved, still perfectly put together in a pink skirt suit.

  “I’m alive.” The cold surrounds me but I don’t feel it. “I have so much to tell you.”

  “I bet. You look good though,” she looks me up and down before turning her attention to the road.

  “Thanks. I’ve been sick, actually, but I rested and I’ve never felt better.” It’s true. Being with Logan was like waking from a dream.

  “Well, I’m glad you got some time to yourself. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold down the fort better than I did. Things are…really crazy right now.” There are stress lines on her brow I’ve never seen before.

  “Is Adam waiting for me?”

  “Yes. And the press are mobbing the place. They think there’s a scandal. And—” She bites her lip.

  “What is it?”

  “The board is still in closed door talks. I think they’re going to vote you out. I’m sorry, I—”

  “It’s not your fault,” I tell her firmly. “I shouldn't have bailed like that. But I had to.” I briefly outline what I’ve found out about Belladonna, including the secret sale of the patents and my meeting with the man who owns them.

  “Logan was my father’s old business partner. They founded Belladonna together, but they had a falling out and went their separate ways. Logan got my dad to sell the patents at a time when Belladonna was struggling. After my mom’s death.”

  “Crazy,” Rachel shakes her head.

  “You have no idea,” I murmur. Logan did all this under the guise of a different company, one he co-owned with the businessman who willed him the castle. And Logan believes my dad and Adam tried to kill him…

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Yeah, all the tantalizing details of my captivity, sexy torture, and first orgasms with the man I’ve always longed for. I hold her gaze, trying not to blush.

  Fortunately Rachel is still trying to wrap her head around the details I have told her. “I can’t believe your father sold the patents.”

  “It happened after my mother’s death. He was desperate.”

  “So what are you going to do? Belladonna’s entire net worth is tied up in those patents. If we don’t have the rights to develop the research—”

  “I’ve got it figured out,” I say and she blinks. I’ve never sounded so firm before, but I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Belladonna is my company, and I’m going to steer her true. “For the first time in my life, I’m thinking clearly.”

  “All right,” Rachel murmurs, her brow furrowing as she approaches our building. She’s right—there are press mobbing the front. I resist the urge to slide down in my seat as we pass them. “I’ll drop you off,” Rachel says as she pulls around back. “Go get ‘em. I’m right behind you.”

  “Thanks,” I shoot her a smile and exit the car. My confident stride lasts until I’m almost to the lobby elevators. A tall man is waiting by reception, wearing a greatcoat. My steps slow when he turns. Smooth skin, blond hair sleekly combed back from his model perfect face. Adam Archer.

  I wait, but there are no belly flutters. No excitement at seeing Adam. No, I’m disappointed. Even with his scars, Logan outshines Adam’s movie star good looks.

  But when Adam sees me, he looks relieved. I feel a twinge of guilt. Weak, but it’s there.

  “There you are.” He catches me in his arms. To my shock, he puts his hands on my cheeks and kisses me full on the mouth.

  “Adam,” I break away. Guilt totally gone. “What are you doing?” I want to wipe my lips, it feels so wrong to have felt someone’s kiss other than Logan’s.

  “It’ll be all right, Daphne. I talked to your father. I know just what to do.”

  I scrunch my face, jerking back from Adam. Does he always wear this much cologne?

  “Adam, that’s…very kind. But I don’t need—”

  But Adam isn’t listening.

  “Here she is!” Adam waves to someone behind my head. The elevator has opened and several board members are standing there, scowling at me. A committee of vultures, identical to the man with their glowering faces and dark suits.

  “I’ve got her,” Adam says and turns me to face him. “Daphne, are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Our press conference.”

  “Wait.” Everything is happening too fast. “What press conference?”

  “Just follow my lead.” He’s tugging me to the door. The security guards are opening it.

  “No—wait—”

  Cameras flash. I’m blinded.

  “She’s here, everyone,” Adam is saying, laughing. He shines his toothpaste grin at everyone, basking in the flashing lights. He loves the cameras and they love him.

  “Mr. Archer! Mr. Archer!”

  “No—” I try to blunder back into the building, but the board is there, waiting just inside. Adam catches my arm and eases me into his side.

  “She’s a little camera shy. But that’s okay. I talk enough for the both of us.”

  Oh gods, no. I can feel it happening—the old Daphne surfacing. The people pleaser, the one who does whatever her father tells her to do. Smile for the camera, Daphne. Hold the award up nice and high so we all can see it. See what you’re worth.

  You don’t see me. I want to scream. You never did. But Adam is waving to a TV crew, his arm around me as we pose. I move with him in lockstep. Everyone’s speaking over me and I just let them.

  “Dr. Laurel, where were you? Can you comment on the state of the merger?”

  “Enough, enough,” Adam waves his hands and the press settles down. I’ve always wondered how he could do that—magically calm the storm. “I have a question to ask Daphne. And I think you’ll want to hear it.”

  My heart beats so loud I barely hear what he says next. But I don’t need to. I can guess. Because, in front of everyone, the ecstatic press and the somber-faced board members, Adam gets down on one knee.

  No. My heart stops.

  “Daphne,” Adam murmurs.

  What, my lips shape the word but no sound comes out. From his pocket, Adam produces a small black box and opens it. A diamond flashes like a paparazzi's camera.

  Over the rising roar of the crowd and the rushing in my ears I read Adam’s lips as he asks, “Will you make me the happiest man on Earth?”

  Twenty-Six

  Logan

  Letting her go was the right thing to do. I pace the basement lab while waiting for the latest set of experiments to run.

  Work is the only thing I can think to do so I don’t go out of my mind while she’s gone from the castle. She’ll like that I’m doing work on Battleman’s. When she gets back I’ll finally tell her what I’m working on. Maybe… Maybe we could work on it together.
It could be our life’s goal together. I could prove to her she doesn’t have to carry the load alone anymore.

  Still, other thoughts pop in, and they’re annoyingly loud.

  You should never have let her go. The second they get her back in her clutches, she’ll—

  No. She’s not like that. She’s strong. I’ve helped her become strong. She’s mine. She swore a sacred vow when she gave her body to me and me alone. They can never have back what’s mine.

  My hands clench in fists but I force myself to breathe out. She’s my Daphne. Loyal to a fault. She’s the one person in the world who will never betray me.

  But gods, I miss her face already.

  I heave my large body down into an office chair in front of a research laptop and in spite of myself, can’t help but type her name in a search bar.

  I just need to see her face to tide me over. She should be calling any moment. She said she’d keep me up to date on how her father is and when she’ll be back. My phone is in my breast pocket but I don’t pull it out for the thousandth time to check the battery and whether or not the volume is at full capacity. It’s a weakness and I hate that she makes me weak.

  But for Daphne, I’ll bear a little weakness.

  So I pull up the page of results from her name, expecting the same old news articles from years ago with press photos.

  But instead—

  My fist pounds on the table when the first thing that comes up is a photo of the two of them.

  Adam fucking Archer.

  Holding my Daphne’s hand, grinning up at her with the smile his father paid a fortune for, down on one fucking knee.

  The click-bait headline shouts: Magnate Playboy Adam Archer Finally Getting Hitched!

  I roar and throw the laptop against the wall, smashing it to pieces. Then I stand and grab anything else within range. Raging. Destroying everything.

  When I’m done, almost all the lab equipment is upended, there’s shattered glass everywhere, and my heart is on the floor among the shards.