Page 4 of The Beast

“Let’s just say you should never go into espionage. Your face is easier to read than The Cat in the Hat. Now, spill.”

“I can’t stop thinking about how much this sucks for David,” I say. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone but Gabriel, and since that’s impossible, I’ll be fine living my life as David’s adoring little wifey. And I’ve got the gallery to fill the empty spaces, so I’ll be okay.”

“I see where this is going,” she says.

“Right? David’s way more screwed with this deal than I am. What if he meets someone? I mean, I’m fine with that, but if the tabloids think that Isabella Hart’s husband is cheating on her…” I trail off with a shudder. “I know we’re both getting something out of this deal from our parents, but I still think it sucks more for him than it does for me.”

There’s an odd expression on her face as she nods, then squeezes my hand. “He has his own reasons, just like you do. You’ll both be fine.”

“You will.”

The words come from behind me, not from Harper, and I spin around, then find myself pulled into David’s outstretched arms. I hug him tight, my eyes squeezed shut as I try to draw in all his support and love.

Then, with a sigh, I open my eyes to literally and metaphorically face reality.

That’s when I see the man.

He’s standing across the room in a shadow, so I can’t discern any details. Only that he’s tall and decked out in a suit that fits so perfectly that I’m guessing London bespoke. He has a full beard and mustache, and hair that’s pulled back from his face into a tail. His shoulders are broad, and there’s something about the way he holds himself that reminds me so much of Gabriel it makes my stomach do little flips.

I pull out of David’s embrace. “Who is that?”

But the crowd has shifted, and Mr. Bespoke is nowhere to be found.

“Sorry, who?” Harper says, sharing a confused look with David.

“Nothing. I just thought I saw—never mind.”

David holds out his hand, and I take it. “Come on, my beautiful bride.

Our orders are to mingle our way over to the photo set-up. Apparently, people in the future will want photographic proof that we leapt into the fire.”

I squeeze his hand, part of me terrified that this arrangement will screw up our friendship, another part of me so thrilled that he’s saving my ass that I can barely think straight.

And then, of course, there’s the biggest part of all. The part that won’t stop worrying about what Father will do when he realizes that David and I used each other, making lemonade out of the loveless lemon of a deal our parents foisted on us. David, so he could get early access to his trust fund, and me so I could get the gallery. Not to mention the hotel that houses it.

Most parents would lose their shit if they learned about such bold manipulation.

But this is Sterling Hart we’re talking about. And maybe he’ll be impressed that his daughter is a full-on, sneaky, manipulative chip off the old block.