Beauty for the Beast Chapter 03

Beauty for the Beast Chapter 03

“Wait.” I stopped at the door.

His brow furrowed. “What shampoo do you use?”

I blinked. “Whatever’s cheapest at CVS.”

“Stop using it.”

I turned and walked out. My heart slammed against my ribs. I’d used that coconut shampoo for years.

He used to call it the smell of summer. Did he recognize me?

Oh my God. I caught my reflection in the hallway glass.

No. Not possible. Not with a face like this.

Right at the six-hour deadline, the revised proposal was done. Nobody volunteered to take it in.

So I went back. This time, he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood beside his chair — red dress, glossy dark hair, confidence worn like armor.

“Julian, don’t tell me you’re actually free today.” She was teasing him.

I held my breath. His shoulders eased.

Just barely — but I saw it. “What are you doing here, Vivian?”

“Saving you from yourself.” She turned with a smile.

I saw her face clearly for the first time. Vivian Ashcroft. The Ashcrofts and the Thornes went back generations — old money, old loyalty.

She was everything I used to be — elegant, poised, flawless. Like she’d been made to stand beside him.

Her gaze swept over me and moved on, like I wasn’t even worth the pause. “New hire?”

“Caregiver,” Julian said. Vivian’s eyebrow lifted a fraction.

Silence stretched. I set the documents down and backed toward the door.

“Sully.” I stopped. “Coffee. Black.”

From the kitchen, I could hear them. Low voices. Easy rhythm.

Vivian leaned in to point at something on his tablet, their heads almost touching.

They looked like two people who’d done this a thousand times. “That number’s wrong,” Julian said.

His voice had gone soft.

“Tell them yourself,” Vivian shot back. “I’m not your assistant.”

“But you’re already here.” Was he — was Julian actually complaining?

I rubbed my eyes. This was the same man who’d sent the entire Syndicate into a tailspin that day.

But right then he sounded like a stubborn bastard. She rolled her eyes.

“Fine, but you owe me. My dad’s expecting us at the club tonight.”

“I’m not going.”

“Julian.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Do I need to bring up the yacht? And the champagne?”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. Vivian laughed and patted his shoulder.

“Play nice. I’ll keep the wolves away from your door.”

I set the coffee cups on the coasters without a sound.

They were meant to be together.

The estate manager rang my phone that night.

Julian was drunk.