AllFreeNovel
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That strong jaw, those round shoulders. The man probably drinks coffee. Black.
The idea of being near him is too overwhelming. Instead, I imagine what color I’d paint the door if it were mine. Maybe a lovely shade of dusty rose pink would match the buds on the perfectly trimmed rose bushes, but otherwise, I’d not change anything.
The exterior is perfect. Like a storybook. A fairy tale.
But this is no princess movie.
And these men are not helpful woodland creatures.
This is my life.
No Prince Charming is hiding behind the black-wish-it-were-pink door.
A beast lives in this castle.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with bottle-green eyes, the spirit of a Viking, and a beard to match. He is a playboy with a trail of women behind him so long that half the island's female population might be notches on his wide leather belt.
I’ve shied away from the man for as long as I can remember. He loved to tease me, making a game out of seeing how deeply he could make me blush. Demanding a dance, tugging on the end of my braid, saying naughty things that make me do exactly what I don’t want to…
Blush.
I turned him down every time but the mere thought of him still makes my heart race. I can't shake off the fear that rises in me when I see him. And now, his strange men have brought me here. What does he want from me? What twisted plans does he have in store?
The door opens.
My heart lurches into my throat, and I bite back bile as I wait for Callum to come into view.
Only, it’s not him who appears.
“Gah. It’s only Freya.” A slight bit of tension leaves me as I settle back in my seat.
Freya is known for her free spirit, which is a stark contrast to her brother Callum. She smiles warmly, her violet-white hair streaming behind her as she moves. She wears tasteful silver jewelry and a sleeveless black dress. The air she gives off could be that of a prime minister’s wife or a trendy art gallery owner.
Her hair is lighter, her face more gaunt, her lips more full, but it’s the same Freya, a girl a few years older than me at school who I found as intimidating as she was intriguing. She is beautiful, brilliant, and strong. I hope she can help me out of this situation, but she and Callum are tied tighter than Carol Ann’s clubbing corset.
Her heels clip at the stones as she approaches the van.
Everyone knows everyone on the island, but that doesn’t mean we’ve spoken. At school, Freya was known for smoking thin, menthol cigarettes, rolling her uniform skirt up as many times as she could get away with, pairing it with matching black-heeled stilettos, and sneaking off to the city as often as she could.
She comes striding over to the van and raps a thin knuckle against the window, her voice a low purr. “More stolen goods, boys?”
The driver rolls his window down, a salty sea breeze freshening the cab. “G’day, Madam Freya. We’ve got the goods. Boss’s orders.”
“Let’s have this door opened, please.” She moves to the van door, crossing her slim arms over her chest.
The driver eyes her a moment, then obeys.
The man beside me gets out on his side, walking around to meet Freya. Gripping Mam’s bowl, I watch the van door slide open, a rush of fresh air swirling around me. Freya’s beautiful face appears as she leans toward me.
"Welcome, Fiona," Freya says, her voice soft and melodic. "I'm so glad yer here." Freya's presence eases the knot of fear in my stomach. The Burnes family estate looms large and imposing behind her, the setting sun casting long shadows over the manicured lawn. “I’ve not been on the island in years, but I remember ye and yer ginger hair.”
“Hello.” I nod. “I remember you as well.”
“Is that Rose’s big bowl?” She glances down at my lap. “My mum had one just like it but in cream with flowers round the edge.”
Freya Burnes, always the cool girl, the It girl, calling adults by their first names. I’m nearing thirty, and I still don’t do that. “Y—yes,” I manage to stutter. “It’s Mam’s bowl.”
“It’s lovely. My mum had a wooden spoon she kept with it as well. She waved it around, trying to keep my brother and boy cousins in line, but if you ask me, which no one does, they’re just as unruly now as they were then.”
