I am so happy I can sit on my rear and write sexy stories for you guys! I hope you enjoyed this alternative scene from my A Single Glance trilogy. Jase and Bethany’s complete story is available now, start reading with A Single Glance.
BEAUTY & THE BEAST
PROLOGUE
Calum
“Sir, are you sure you want to do this?”
Alessio’s hesitation is personified by weakness.
It was different when I started. We were all different back then, and I know my driver longs for the days where my reputation didn’t send shivers of ice down the back of spineless men.
Maybe I’m more callous than I once was when wealth flowed freely, and my partners held more respect for me than they did fear. That’s what happens when a man is forced to become a beast.
As the limo comes to a slow stop in front of the castle bathed in the dark night, my thumb runs along my hard jaw line, skimming over the deep scar that made me who I am. The glittering candlelight and floral scent that filters in through the cracked tinted windows doesn’t hide the ruthlessness of the men attending tonight.
The elite and upper class, better known as the devils in Armani suits that run this city, don’t hold a flame to my brutality. They can hide behind the masquerade of tonight, their flutes of expensive champagne and cloaks of luxury, but we all know who we really are. I don’t intend to hide behind a damn thing. Just like they don’t hide their unease around me.
One of the few partnerships and personal relationships that hasn’t changed since then is with a man named Carter Cross. He took what he wanted when it came to all matters. I’ve decided I’m no better.
Annabelle will leave the ball with me tonight. There’s nothing that will change my mind of that.
She’s beautiful, and the opposite of the beast I became. More than that, the business deals I can acquire with her father’s reputation . . . well, he owes me, and I’ve decided beautiful Belle is what I want in the place of his debt.
Am I sure I want to do this? I answer Alessio with the grim reality, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
ANNABELLE
It’s uncomfortable enough in this lace dress that hugs nearly every curve without feeling so many eyes on me. ‘A deep red will compliment your complexion,’ my father’s public relations director suggested. ‘Go dark and sexy, make a show of it and have fun.’ I still remember how she shrugged like it didn’t really matter. If it didn’t matter, she wouldn’t have stepped in at all.
My heels click on the large black and white marble tiled floor in the entry way. Although I can barely hear that over the pounding of my heart as it wrestles against my rib cage to escape.
The chandeliers drip of wealth in this castle. As if the tables topped with ridiculously large bouquets and hors d'oeuvres served on polished silver at every turn of this massive place didn’t give it away. It’s a masquerade ball set back in time. This elaborate party is ideal to present the newest member of an elite family who runs in my father’s circle. As I catch sight of truffles dusted with gold, I wonder how much they spent on renting this castle . . . or if they own it and all this décor was added simply for the show of it all.
I don’t belong here for one very important reason. My family is broke, but no one knows it.
The Constantines have money . . . so much more than we do. Which is why PR informed me that I must be present, I must stand out, even, to ensure that stream of money continues to flow into my father’s business ventures.
“Miss?” I attempt and fail to hide my shock at the innocent voice at my left. The man dons a simple black mask that only covers his eyes and down to the tip of his nose. All the waiters are wearing them to match their black tuxes. “Champagne?” he offers, and clearing my throat as politely and ladylike as I can, I graciously accept a glass. I’d love about three of them, but I settle on just the one.
“Beautiful mask,” he compliments me before nodding and quickly moving on. I don’t even have time to thank him. With his back to me, my gaze wanders, but it’s quickly diverted when I meet the gaze of a group of men. With their masks on, I’m not sure who is who, but I’m certain they’re aware who I am. My mask doesn’t conceal my identity in the least. By design of course. I must be seen. The dark red ribbon of lace is hardly a mask at all.
I’m a seductive red rose from head to toe. The designer whispered it with a delighted smile on her face. I could only offer her the same smile and thank you I offered the waiter knowing how much my father needs this.
The champagne is rather bitter on the first sip.
Keeping my clutch close to my side, I walk easily to a lone table and try to decipher who is who. It’s impossible, though, with the masks. The vibration against my hip alerts me to a text from my father.
How is it going?
I’m to be the ambassador of sorts for my father. He’s older now, and it’s simply better to have my face in front of the crowd. Even if they are all older men. Businessmen supposedly, but I’ve run the books for my father long enough to know.
I’m to look pretty but not speak . . . with that thought in mind, I graciously sip the alcohol. And then a bit more. I’m certainly going to need it.
I’ve just arrived. I answer him, then silence the phone, slipping it back into the clutch we can’t afford. If he wants me to mingle and drop his name and the investments, I can’t be on the phone with him.
“Another glass, Miss?” A second waiter, or perhaps the same, they look so alike, holds out his silver tray.
“Thank you.” At least I can offer my gratitude this time around.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss,” he adds, before dipping slightly.
My heart does a tumble, and my lungs stay still, just as surprised as I am.
“Thank you,” I repeat the words spoken in exchange for a glass of champagne as he walks away. They’re the only words I seem to know tonight.
My throat is tight, and the next sentence doesn’t come. I appreciate your condolences. That’s what I should say, and I’m aware, but they’re too professional . . . too cold. Even though my father and I knew it was coming . . . well, you can never prepare for something like that. My mother’s death wasn’t sudden, but it was brutal.
As the waiter leaves, a group of three men walk past me, nodding their greetings and hushing whatever conversation they were having.
“Hello, gentlemen,” I offer and tip my champagne to them, memorizing their masks and noting that they’re at least friendly enough to approach later. I don’t know a number of the men here, although some of them are somewhat familiar.
Time ticks, and the crowd thickens. I stay where I am, gathering my composure and forming a plan. Approach, laugh, be conversational, but when the time is right, mention the investments.
I only get one glance around the room, searching for someone who’s off on their own, before seeing a face I certainly recognize.
Without the mask, he stands out more than the others. Ever since the books a few months ago. Six to be exact. When my mother became too ill, I took over the finances for my father. It’s something only she’d done before.