Broken Beast

I don't know.

Right now, I don't care. I don't care if strangers see me as a monster or a man.

I don't care about anyone but Danielle.

"Do you like them?" she asks.

Like isn't a strong enough word. "They're perfect."

"Really?"

"Yes."

She turns to me with a smile. "Are you nervous?"

"Are you?"

"Very. But I know you… I know it's different for you."

"I'm proud of you."

"Yeah?"

"Very." I bring my hand to her cheek.

She leans into the gesture. "Adam, I… I can't tell you how much it means to me. Your support. Your bravery. Really. I'm so happy we're together. Even if it's not a conventional situation."

I love you. The word forms on my tongue. But my mouth is too sticky. I've never said it before. Not to a woman.

It's the kind of thing you can't take back.

Like the truth.

She deserves to know why I found her.

She deserves to know every ugly detail.

I can't say it yet.

Not until she knows.

But I can't tell her today. I can't steal her moment.

She's worked hard for this. She deserves it.

She deserves the entire fucking universe.

"It's my honor," I say.

She smiles. "You're like a prince in a fairy tale."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. Formal and chivalrous. And handsome." She runs her fingers over the scar on my cheek. "If you're Prince Charming, what does that make me?"

"You have it wrong, angel. You're the one saving me."

"Broken beauty and the beast?"

I nod.

She smiles. "It's a little wordy. But I like it." Her fingers go to my tie. "You know, Remy is always asking if I blew someone in the backroom."

"Remy? No?"

"I know. Hard to believe he'd ask such an inappropriate question." She laughs. "I never really saw the appeal until now."

"Is that a request?"

"If it is?"

"I have a better idea." I lift her into my arms.

She squeals as I carry her to the backroom.

I set her on her ex-boss's desk, drop to my knees, dive between her legs.

Then I hold her close as I fuck her.

She comes twice.

The second time, with me.

I help her into her clothes, onto her feet, into the limo.

"Better?" I ask.

"Much better." She rests her head on my shoulder. Falls into an easy sleep. Comfortable. Quiet. At peace.

After the busy week, she needs it.

Tomorrow is her day.

After that, I tell her the truth.

That's one more day with her.

I need to savor every minute.

Chapter Forty-One

Adam

The gallery is buzzing. There are two dozen people in the small space. All in chic clothes, with an air of sophistication, sipping wine and staring at photographs of Danielle.

Me and Danielle.

My stomach flip-flops.

My limbs go light.

Technically, I'm anonymous, but I'm her fiancé. The second people see me with her, they'll put the pieces together.

It's one thing to imagine it.

To actually face a room full of people staring at photos of my hands on her skin?

I force my breath through my nose. I can do this. I will do this. For her.

I take another deep breath, force another slow exhale, then I step into the gallery.

Noise fills my ears. Soft music. Laughter. Snippets of conversation.

Can you believe these photos?

So much like DeLaney.

Self-portraits. How can she show her face?

How can she not? If I looked like that, I'd want everyone to know it was me.

And the man.

Isn't that him?

He's familiar.

The rich guy with the scandal.

"Hey, Adam!" Liam waves like we're a thousand feet away at a theme park.

Everyone in the room looks at him—he's alone today—then at me.

At once, a dozen people add two and two.

The room fills with the energy of the epiphany.

Holy shit, that's Adam Pierce.

The rich guy who killed his brother.

Is he seriously showing off like this?

"You drinking red or white?" He motions to the bar behind him. A dozen bottles of wine next to a row of clean glasses.

I shrug off the attention in the room. Yes, everyone is staring. Half with wonder. Half with a more familiar response—the need to see the freak in great detail.

I'm not here to enjoy the spotlight.

I'm here for Danielle.

And besides, this is what I want. It's what I wanted.

This was the whole fucking idea behind this ridiculous plan.

Make Fitzgerald writhe with envy.

I know he's seen these pictures. I know he's coming—he RSVP'd. But the thought does nothing to soothe me.

I don't care if he sees me with her.

I don't care if he's jealous.

I don't want these strangers to see me, know me, talk about me.

Only Danielle.

"The artist is preoccupied." Liam pats me on the back. "She went all out this time. Best wine under thirty dollars a bottle. It's not bad." He turns to the table, as if no one is watching, pours two glasses, hands one to me. "To you coming out of your cage."

I tap glasses. "To you being an asshole."

"I'll drink to that." He laughs and takes a long sip. "Still tastes like wine. But… not bad, for wine."

It's good wine. Not fancy, maybe, but plenty rich, bold, fruity. I swallow half my glass in one sip. The rest in a second.