Beauty for the Beast Chapter 02

Beauty for the Beast Chapter 02

“Move!” The housekeeper shoved a glass into my hands.

“Ice water. Now. Go!”

I ran to the kitchen, filled the glass, and brought it to him. Julian took one sip and spat it straight back at me.

“Not cold enough.”

I wiped my cheeks.

Hold it together, Elena Rossi. That medical debt wasn’t going to pay itself.

It took eighteen glasses before he finally gave a curt nod. Eighte

The housekeeper leaned in. “This is him on a good day.”

Ok. I didn’t want to know what a bad one looked like.

The days settled into a rhythm. I handled everything — laundry, meals, scheduling — everything except his personal care.

That, he refused to let anyone touch. He did it all himself, and the stubbornness of it wasn’t admirable — it was brutal.

One morning, a crash echoed from the bathroom. I threw the door open without thinking.

A towel hit me across the face before I saw anything.

“Get out!”

But I caught his eyes in that split second. The humiliation in them was raw — a wounded animal backed into a corner.

Every part of me wanted to go to him. Hold him.

I didn’t. I stood outside that door and listened — every grunt, every scrape, every splash. When he finally wheeled himself out, he was soaked through.

What right did I have to worry about him?

I was his hired help. Nothing more. And not even a pretty one.

His temper tore through the staff like a wood chipper. The latest secretary lasted less than three hours before walking out.

Everything was falling apart — the estate and the Syndicate both.

The Oakhaven deal was about to collapse. The Consigliere caught me outside the office.

“Sully, please.” His voice was thin with desperation. “You’re the only one he hasn’t chewed up and spit out.”

“I’ll double your salary. Just — help me.”

I hesitated. Then I took the folder.

The air inside the office hit me like a wall of ice. Julian faced the window, his back to me, spine rigid.

“Who let you in?”

“The Oakhaven deal.” I set the folder on his desk. “It needs your signature.”

He snatched it up. With every page, his expression darkened.

Then he hurled the folder at my head. Pages scattered across the floor.

“Garbage.” His voice dropped into something dangerous. “Every page of it. Send it back. Tell them to start over.”

“If I don’t have something usable in six hours, they’re all fired.”

I dropped to my knees and started gathering the pages. That’s when I noticed his hand on the armrest. Tapping.

Tap, tap, tap.

I knew that rhythm. It meant he was barely holding himself back.

Years ago, he’d tap the tip of my nose the same way — every time he caught me sneaking into his father’s vineyard after dark. I’d kiss him until the scowl cracked and he smiled.

“What am I gonna do with you, Elena?” He said it every time.

But that was then. Now, there was nothing behind those eyes but ice.