Beauty for the Beast Chapter 10

Beauty for the Beast Chapter 10

Then he kissed me. Slow. Careful. Like he was afraid I’d shatter, or disappear if he pressed to hard

His lips were warm, soft, tasting like whiskey and something sadder underneath.

When he pulled back, his forehead stayed pressed against mine.

“Elena.” His voice was wrecked. “Come home with me.”

“What about Vivian?” It was barely a whisper.

“Vivian is a business arrangement. Our fathers’ deal, not mine. That’s all she’s ever been.”

His voice went hard.

“She never meant anything to me. You’re it, Elena. You always were.”

“But your family…”

“They’ll accept whoever I choose. And I’ve already chosen.

He cupped my face, his thumbs tracing the ridges of my scars.

“It’s you. Every scar. Every year I missed. All of it. I want all of it.”

I looked into those gray eyes. They’d gone hard over the years – sharpened by pain into something cold and guarded. But when he looked at me, I could still see it. The softness he only ever saved for

“I’m so scared, Julian.”

“I’ve got you.” He smiled, but the sadness in it didn’t quite leave.

“I’d burn the world down before I let anything hurt you again.”

I kissed him again – three years of fear, love, and longing crashing into a single point of contact.

He groaned against my mouth, pulled me closer, his hands tangling in my hair.

When we finally broke apart, I couldn’t breathe.

“I need to say something.” My voice was raw.

“You’re still a dictator. Arrogant, ruthless, and you throw things at people when you’re mad.”

He grinned — a real one, the kind that reached his eyes

remembered.

—

and for a second, I saw the Julian I

“And you’re still the most stubborn woman alive. Always have been.”

“I’m serious. You need to work on your temper.”

“I’ll give you full control over it.”

“Whatever you want.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. “As long as you stay.”

I looked at him. Really looked.

This man who’d been through fire, abandonment, and a body that had betrayed him – and still had

love left to give.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll stay.”

And his smile – God, his smile. It lit up everything.

The peace lasted twelve hours.

I opened the door the next morning, and Vivian was standing on the other side.

Her makeup was flawless. Her expression was not.

“You.” The word came out like a blade.

“You actually spent the night in his room?”

She shoved past me and barged into the suite before I could say a word. Julian was already up, sitting by the window with his documents.

“Julian!” Vivian crossed the room in three strides. “Explain why she’s still here after everything

“Enough, Vivian.” Julian didn’t look up.

“Enough?” Her voice rose.

“You’re really going to throw away the Ashcroft alliance – everything our families built – her?”

for

Julian finally turned. The man looking at Vivian wasn’t the Julian who’d kissed me last night. The

Don was back.

“There is no alliance. There never was. Whatever our fathers agreed to is over.”

“Julian!” Vivian crossed the room in three strides. “Explain why she’s still here after everything

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“Will continue to operate,” Julian cut in. “Professionally. And Vivian – from now on, it’s Don Thorne to you. And stay away from my fiancée.”

That word hung in the air. Fiancée.

Vivian’s eyes snapped to me. “It’s you.” She was shaking. “You did this.”

“Get out, Vivian.” Ice. “Don’t make me have my men throw you out.

She stood there, trembling with rage, for what felt like forever. Then she turned and stormed out. The door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls.

I stood in the middle of the room, rooted to the floor. “Julian… are you sure about this? The Ashcrofts are powerful. They could—”

“Let them try.” He wheeled over to me and took my hand.

“I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” His thumb traced slow circles against my palm.

“I need to know you’re ready for this. Being with me means being part of my world. That means danger, enemies, a permanent target on your back.”

I looked down at our clasped hands. His grip was solid, steady.

“I’ve survived worse,” I said quietly.

“I spent three years running from the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I think I can handle the Syndicate.”

He laughed – low and warm

–

and pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “That’s my girl.”

We sat there, side by side, morning light pouring through the window. Something that had been

pressing on my chest for three years finally lifted.

The fear wasn’t gone. It probably never would be.

But for the first time in three years, it didn’t feel bigger than I was.

My name is Elena. And I’m finally home.