Breaking the Beast (Seven Ways to Sin 5)

“Of course I do,” Étienne said simply. “But that’s not what this is about. This is about you.”

I scoffed. “Please. I’m perfectly happy here; I have been for years. But if you’re so miserable, why don’t you just leave? It’s not as if you’re a prisoner here. You can leave now, if you want to. I won’t stop you.”

“I know you won’t,” Étienne said. “But if I did, would I be welcomed back?”

I didn’t answer, and Étienne nodded, satisfied. “None of us are willing to give up on you, Jacques. We stay because we love you as a brother, and we want to help you. Now, will you let us help you?”

I weighed my options. Étienne wouldn’t back down easily, I knew. He would keep pushing. I looked back out the window. This is an enormous castle, I reminded myself. Easy to avoid anyone I’d rather not see. With that, I came to a decision.

“Fine,” I said. “Let her come. But only for the interview. I’ll meet with her once, but then I don’t want to see her again.”

A wide grin split Étienne’s handsome face, making him look much younger than his 31 years. I felt a pang of guilt for all that my friends had given up for me over the years. You never asked them to, I reminded myself. It was their choice to stay with you.

But if Étienne were right, it hadn’t been much of a choice, had it? Stay with me, or leave me on my own. And they all knew what happened when I was alone. No wonder they had all stayed.

“Come on,” Étienne said, breaking through my bleak thoughts. “You didn’t finish your dinner, and you must be starving. Isiah put a plate aside for you. I’ll have Bernard warm it up.”

I managed a wan smile. “D’accord. I am starving; let’s go.”

Throwing his arm across my shoulders in a brotherly fashion, Étienne led me out of the room.

5

Isabel

For all Bonita’s talk of a “bonafide castle,” I still wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me as my hired town car crested the final hill. I gasped as the turrets rose into view, and my driver let out a low whistle.

“What is it you said you did, Miss?” he asked.

“I’m a writer,” I said, my eyes still fixed on the bleak grey stones of the castle walls. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had to cross an honest-to-goodness moat before we arrived, complete with alligators.

“Well, doesn’t look like you’re going to be at a loss for material,” the driver said. “Whoever lives here must be certifiably looney.”

I said nothing, but secretly, I agreed with him. I had been expecting a lavish estate, not this relic straight out of King Arthur’s time. Not for the first time, I wondered just what I had gotten myself into.

But there was no time to change my mind now. Before I knew it, we had arrived (no moat, more’s the pity), and the driver began to unload my bags. I had overpacked somewhat, unsure of what I might need or how long I would be staying, but looking at the castle in front of me, I began to doubt that I had packed anything suitable in any of my bags. In fact, I doubted that I even owned anything suitable.

“You sure you’ll be all right here, Miss?” the driver asked, as if reading my thoughts.

I wasn’t at all sure, but I put on a brave face. “Of course I will, thank you,” I said brightly. Belatedly, I wondered if I was expected to tip him, but when I reached for my purse, he held up a hand to stop me.

“All taken care of, Miss,” he said. “Good luck with your writing.” With that, he was pulling out the long drive. I watched him go, feeling suddenly very, very alone.

Aside from the castle to my back, there didn’t appear to be any other structures within walking distance, only lush greenery as far as I could see. I turned in a circle, taking it all in. A horrible noise erupted behind me, and I whirled, heart pounding in my throat, to find a peacock gazing at me with beady black eyes.

“Oh, hello …” I said, bemused. There had been no room for pets in our house growing up, not even a fish, and as a result I’d never felt fully comfortable around animals. “Are you a … nice bird?”

At that, the bird let loose another horrible gobble before turning and strutting away, his magnificent plumage spread out behind him. This was certainly not the welcome I’d been expecting.

No turning back now, I told myself, before picking up a bag in each hand, squaring my shoulder, and marching up to the front door. There was no doorbell, only a large, ancient-looking door knocker. Tentatively, I raised the knocker and let it fall. Almost before the knock sounded, the door opened, and I found myself gaping at one of the prettiest young men I’d ever seen in my life.