Broken Beast

Removing my panties for someone.

Myself.

Him.

Both of us.

Adam didn't say anything about the image I posted last night. Because he's buried in work, because he hasn't seen it, because he has incredible restraint?

One of the three.

Or two maybe.

I read our text thread again. All those terms and deals. Dry and proper. Until the last line.

Then you're mine.

I've never felt I belonged to someone. I've certainly never felt anyone belonged to me.

I don't know if I want to belong to Adam.

But I want someone to need me that badly.

I return to the dressing room. Let Bree have her way with me.

We try gown after gown.

An A-line with a cape.

A backless black.

A silver mermaid.

A snug champagne number with sheer sleeves.

A strapless gold sheath.

Bree embraces her earlier edict on the ultra-rich. She tosses aside anything too fussy, too bold, too bright. Sticks with the elegantly understated.

Then we move on to matching shoes and bags.

Hair.

Makeup.

Bree is merciful enough to put me in a "normal outfit" for an hour-long session at the makeup counter.

I try to pay attention—makeup is a great skill for a photographer to learn—but I'm too worn out to absorb much of the lesson.

The artist takes me through a day look. Then he adds until it's a night look.

When we finish, it's dark, and I'm exhausted. I want to change into my workout gear, sweat off my foundation, shower, and climb into bed.

But I'm not going to the home I've known for the last twenty-two years.

I'm going to Adam's place.

Louis humors me with a short walk, then we get into the car and start the long drive.

For a while, I watch the city whiz by the windows.

My thoughts wander back to the reclusive billionaire.

What the fuck does Adam actually want with me? Does it matter?

I have a year to work on my art and save for my future. I'm using every single day wisely. Including today.

Tonight. After he dismisses me. In whatever space is mine.

My camera is in the trunk. Sure, it's buried under thousands of dollars of designer gowns, but it's still there.

That's still mine.

I'm still Danielle Bellamy. No matter how expensive my dress, heels, lipstick.

When we arrive, Louis insists he'll unpack and leads me inside.

Straight to the dining room.

To the candlelight and the scent of basil and Adam Pierce standing at the table, staring at me like he's going to consume me.

Chapter Nine

Danielle

"Mr. Pierce." Words refuse to form on my tongue. He became more handsome in the last twenty-four hours. I'm sure of it.

Adam's eyes stay fixed on me. "Are you going to call me that after we marry?"

Right. We're going to convince the world we're happily married. I should call him by his first name. "Adam."

"Danielle." He almost smiles. "You look beautiful."

"You too."

"Beautiful? Really?"

I nod.

"You mean that."

"Why wouldn't I?"

He raises a brow really. The way he did in the photos with his late brother. With ease, joy, love.

I almost see the possibility in his eyes.

Adam Pierce is capable of happiness.

I'm not sure he believes it. I'm not sure anyone does, not if the gossip online is any indication.

I don't have a camera. I can't capture his expression. But I still commit it to memory. Every curve of his lips, every shade of blue in his eyes, every jagged line on his skin.

"Imperfection is what makes a piece of art interesting," I say.

"Is interesting a compliment now?"

"From me it is."

He stands there, tall and broad and imposing, absorbing my words, remaining a stone wall. "Bree asked me to be gentle."

"Really?"

He takes a step toward me.

My body buzzes. I want him closer. I want every inch of him pressed against every inch of me.

"She was excited to call. We haven't spoken since…" His eyes flit to the window behind him. The dark sky, the manicured garden, the miles of ocean. "She styled my first suit."

"When you were what, five?"

He half-smiles. "Did you like her?"

"She worked me hard, but the results were good."

His eyes pass over me slowly. "If you're tired, I won't keep you."

"A little." I'm exhausted, but I want to sit with him. "But I'm starving."

He pulls out my chair for me. After I sit, he signals the kitchen and pours two glasses of wine.

Mine first.

He really is a gentleman.

Usually, I don't see the appeal in chivalry, but it suits Adam.

He really does seem like the prince in a fairy tale.

Trapped in his castle, surrounded by wealth and possibility but still miserable.

If I lost my brother—

I don't know how I'd get out of bed.

I drink my wine quickly. Too quickly. It's not smart. I need to keep my wits. But he makes me nervous.

His gaze lingers on the empty glass, but he refills without comment. "You must find me strange."

"No stranger than the other men who offer me a million dollars to marry them."

He half-smiles. "How many are there?"

"You know what it's like, being a broke young woman in a city full of wealthy men. A new suitor every other day."