Owning Beauty (Taking Beauty Trilogy 3)

Touching it again, I asked him, “I thought you said everyone asks you about it?”

A faint smirk curled the edges of his lips like parchment smoldering. “I never said I answered them.”

My breath caught in my throat as I realized Julian was entrusting me with an enormous secret. This wasn’t something I’d find on his fan page—it wasn’t even something someone like Jen would know. This was as personal as it got: an admission of regret and a memory that, until now, he’d been the only one to keep.

“But you answered me,” I said softly. “Why?”

Julian pressed his hand to the small of my back, drawing me even closer to his body. “Because if anyone on this earth ever deserved to know me, it’s you, love.”

He kissed me again, this time on the mouth, and there was nothing I could do but submit. The press of his lips was like a warm blanket around my shoulders, fending off the chill of reality and making me think of far more pleasant things—winters I’d sat in front of the fireplace with my cousins, blocking out the sounds of my parents fighting by engaging in the fairy tales they told. Those were the days when a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows could solve everything, at least for a little while.

Julian’s kiss brought me back to a place where that was possible. God help me, I thought, allowing him to envelop me in his arms and delighting in the smell of him—sex and cologne and something else that was entirely Julian Bastille. This might not actually turn out so bad, after all.

And then he had to open his mouth and ruin it.

“Speaking of knowing one another,” he said, pulling back enough to look down at me again. “I wanted to talk to you about how we’re going to be… well, making our living arrangements.”

I frowned at him. “Do we absolutely have to talk about this now?” I’d just been getting comfortable with the idea that Julian was a real person. Discussing our little charade was going to taint that.

“Well, I… we want people to think that this is real, don’t we?” he asked, an awkward smile crossing his lips. “It’s rather important to our cause. So… I thought maybe you should come live with me in London. At least for a while—you know, for the duration of our romance.”

Just like that, all the warmth I’d felt toward him faded away, sapped straight out of my heart by the cold and callous way he jumped right back into the scenario that was most financially lucrative for him. It made me question whether I’d been wrong about Julian in a different way. Maybe these tender moments weren’t him being real. Maybe they were him being manipulative. Maybe he was showing me what he thought I wanted to see, hoping to soften me up to obeying his every whim. In fact, that sounded exactly like something Tessa would have instructed him to do.

It was all so clear now: Julian had me on a leash. Every time I strayed too far from his machinations, he put on the puppy dog eyes and reeled me back in. I felt like an idiot. How had I not seen this before now? Why did it always take jumping into bed with this man for me to realize what a bad idea it was?

“I… I don’t think that’s going to work for me, Julian,” I said, my voice so soft that even I could barely hear myself speak. “In fact, I’m not sure just how comfortable I am with this anymore.”

“Liz,” he said, trying to placate me with a gentle touch on my shoulder. I pulled back from his hand as though he’d scalded me, suddenly unable to tolerate the mere idea of physical contact with him. Turning away, I sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to get dressed,” I told him. “And I’d really like to do it alone.”

I felt him sit up behind me, moving to circle my waist with his arm. “Hey, love, hey. What happened? What’d I say? Is living in London such a terrible idea?” Once upon a time, the rough scratch of his stubble on my neck and shoulder had made my body sing. Now it just made my skin crawl. “It’s really great over there. You’ll see. There’s so much I could show you, so many places I’m just dying to—”

There it was again. The moment I began to withdraw, to show any signs of thinking for myself, I was bombarded with sweet nothings and candied promises. I put my face in my hands, laughing disdainfully at myself. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

“Julian,” I gritted, wrenching out of his grasp. “Just go, okay?” When he didn’t move, I reiterated, louder, “Get out of here.”

“This is my room, love…”

“And I’m asking you to leave. I need a little time to think.”

“At least promise me you’ll stay here… Share the hotel room with me. You’re my wife, and this place is as much yours as it is mine.”

I kept my face covered as he slipped out of the sheets. I heard him place his feet on the floor, heard him moving toward the end of the bed where our clothes were strewn. He gathered his without saying a word, and just as silently, he padded out into the common area of our suite stark-naked. He must have been; I hadn’t heard him put his clothes on. I only lifted my head once I’d heard the door to his room open and shut again.

All this is ever going to be for him is just some publicity arrangement, I thought numbly, wrapping my arms around myself as hot, shameful tears welled in my eyes. I’d slept with that bastard again—this time of my own free will—and all I got for it was a reminder that I was nothing more than an opportunity for a headline or two. Just a cash cow… and a pregnant one, at that.

Come on, Liz, said a voice from the back of my head—one I should have listened to from the start. You knew this was too good to be true. Happiness always comes with a catch. And this time, the catch is that none of what you’re being sold is real.

Julian

I wonder if a day could go by that I don’t shove my foot right into my howling screamer, I wondered as I sat in a corner booth in the hotel restaurant, shades on and a tumbler of Jack in my hand. This was the first drink I

’d touched since my dinner with Liz…

After she kicked me out of the bedroom, I threw on my clothes and headed downstairs for a bit of fresh air. Or at least, that was what I’d fooled myself into believing. The reality was I’d headed straight for the bar. It really didn’t take much for me to give up, did it? I’d proved that time and time again. All I would ever be was a grade-A fuck up. What was the use in fighting it?

“Thought I might find you here. You look like you’ve been better,” Tessa said as she sat down across from me. I immediately took a drink. To deal with her, I was going to need something to take the edge off. “What happened?”

I snorted. “Unless you can spin it into yet another money-grubbing scheme, why the hell would you care?”

This succubus actually had the gall to look wounded. “How can you ask me something like that?” she asked. “After everything we’ve been through, after all I’ve done, how could you think that I don’t care about you?”

She moved to place her hand upon mine across the table. I pulled away and sat back, shaking my head.

“She’s pissed, Tessa,” I said, turning my gaze elsewhere. I didn’t want to entertain any crocodile tears. “Haven’t even been married for more than a month, and my wife already hates me. Is there an award for ‘worst husband of the year’? Because I’m fairly sure I’ve earned it.”

Out of my periphery, I saw Tessa roll her eyes. Typical—she wanted to know every last detail of my life, pulled the “but I care” card, and then ended up ridiculing me all the same. It was never any different with her. It was never any different with anyone.