Beauty for the Beast Chapter 04

Beauty for the Beast Chapter 04

When I got there, he was slumped across a velvet sofa. Two bodyguards flanked him, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“The Boss asked for you,” one of them muttered, already stepping back. They couldn’t hand him off fast enough.

I waved them off and knelt beside him, loosening his collar.

His hand shot up and clamped around my wrist. “Elena.”

Everything inside me went still. He said it again, his breath hot with alcohol against my skin. “Elena…”

I yanked my arm back. His grip only tightened.

His face was inches from mine — slack, unfocused, drink pulling his features loose. But behind his half-closed lids, his eyes kept moving, searching for something he couldn’t find.

He hated me. He should.

“Miss Sullivan?” The estate manager’s voice came from the top of the stairs.

I wrenched my wrist free. Julian’s hand fell to his side, limp.

He mumbled something I couldn’t make out.

“He’s like this every time.” The manager descended the stairs, voice low. “Always calling out that name. That ungrateful bitch who left him to rot.”

Every word landed like a knife between my ribs. I made it back to my room before the guilt swallowed me whole.

This was too dangerous. I needed the money to pay off my debt, but I needed to disappear even more.

Days later, the opportunity came. An extended trip to Silvermont.

The travel bonus was massive. Enough to start over for good.

“I’ll go,” I told the estate manager. He gave me a look. I ignored it.

I pushed Julian through the private terminal at Kingsford Airfield. Security. Luggage screening. I handed over my ID.

The flight coordinator glanced at the photo, then at me, then back at the photo. I held my breath.

That photo was three years old. Before the fire. Before the scars. The girl in it had smooth skin and a whole, unbroken smile.

I stole a glance at Julian.

His eyes were on his phone, oblivious. The breath I’d been holding came out slow.

Why would he care about a caregiver’s ID? We headed for the tarmac.

“Stop.”

Vivian stepped into our path, her heels clicking against the tile like gunshots. Her smile could’ve drawn blood.

“Miss Ashcroft?” The words stumbled out. “Is something wrong?”

“Something wrong?” She circled me, her eyes picking apart every inch of my uniform.

“I’m just dying to know what you’re doing here.”

“I’m accompanying Mr. Thorne to Silvermont—”

“To care for him?” The sneer in her voice could’ve cut glass.

“How dedicated. First you make yourself at home in his house, and now you’re following him overseas.”

“For a little nurse, Sullivan, you’ve got one hell of an appetite.”

It clicked. The venom in her voice, the way she’d twisted the word care — she thought I was after him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Ashcroft.”

“Don’t you?” She leaned in close enough that only I could hear. “Stay away from him.”

“Keep playing this game and you’ll lose more than your job. Our family doesn’t leave loose ends.”