Page 35 of Beast

“Let’s relax today. How did you sleep?”

“Great. It’s so peaceful here.”

I took a sip of my coffee and tasted the omelet. I detected a hint of goat cheese and some fresh herbs. It was delicious. “So, have you decided what you’re going to do when you get out?”

“No.”

“After the book comes out, I’m sure you’ll be asked to do interviews. I can give you some media tips.”

He squinted his eye. “Not interested. I’m going to tell my story once and then vanish until I decide what I want to do with my life. I don’t want to be that guy who spends the rest of his life capitalizing on this one event.”

“Right, I get that, but people just want to hear your story. It’s so inspiring.”

“Look, I see you staring at my hand and my eyeball. I’m clearly fucked up—but I’m sick to death of talking about it. Ever since it happened, that incident has been my entire life. Every person I meet fixates on my injuries and the circumstances surrounding them. Before I was maimed, I was just a normal man. I want to be him again. The minute anyone sees me, or finds out who I am, they treat me differently. Everyone does. You do.”

Wow. That was kind of deep.

“Okay. I understand. But I don’t treat you differently because of how you look—I treat you differently because of what you did. But I do get what you’re saying. When I was dancing, everyone expected me to look and act a certain way. Sometimes I just wanted to be a normal girl.”

“Exactly.” His gaze focused on my chest and I realized I wasn’t wearing a bra.

“So, I know we discussed this last night, but I want to be clear of your expectations. We’re just getting to know each other?”

I anxiously awaited his response, hoping I was reading this situation correctly. “I still have the ball to go to in November. You’ll pretend to be my girlfriend for the event. But I’ll be honest with you, Isa—you’re insanely hot, and you seem sweet, but I’m not looking for a serious relationship until I can figure out my life. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

A tingling swept across my face, and I couldn’t help faking a smile to mask my disappointment in his answer.

“Got it. Me too, I mean with the serious relationship thing. I want to focus on graduating from college. So what does pretending to be your girlfriend entail, besides the incredible sex?”

He laughed, reached over the table, and grabbed my hand, his deep red scars contrasting with my pale skin. “I’m a man, you’re hot, of course I want to fuck you every chance I get. But I need our arrangement to be drama-free.”

Damn. Well, glad we cleared that up. But I had to admit, the intensity in his voice, the strength in his hand, the delicious way he said fuck, made every part of me ache for him.

“Good to know. I assume I’ll meet some of your friends before the ball so we can pull this off?”

His lips curled, but since half of his face was covered in scars, I couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed. “You assume correctly. Any more questions or can I finish my fucking breakfast?”

Definitely annoyed. I flinched. I’d clearly pushed too hard. “Of course. Sorry for the interrogation.”

We ate in silence. As I savored each bite, I wondered what the ball would be like. There had been a time in my life that I’d spent dressing up, going to ballroom competitions, enjoying meeting new people. But I hadn’t been that person in years.

He stood up from his chair, his hand trembling, his face now pale. “I don’t feel well. I’m going to go up to my room.”

“Are you okay? Do you need to go to the doctor?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, what should I do?”

He leveled me with his eye. “Read a book.” His voice was gruff, unsettled, and tinged with anger.

I finished my breakfast quickly and retreated to my room. Well, Mr. Nice Guy bearing flowers hadn’t lasted long. I was probably already annoying him. But I felt better knowing his intentions. To be a respectable girlfriend for hire. We clearly had to get to know each other to pull the charade off.

That night Grady grilled burgers, still not allowing me to cook for him. He pounded beers all night, and we barely spoke a word. The tension hung thick in the air. Yes, we’d had sex, incredible sex, but we didn’t know each other at all. Basically, I was holed away in a cabin with a stranger. The full scenario was simultaneously nerve wracking and unbelievably hot.

I was also struggling to understand his reactions toward me. He probably couldn’t stand me and was regretting inviting me as much as I was second guessing coming here.

After dinner, he retired to his room with a curt goodnight, didn’t even try to get intimate with me. I felt so undesirable, but I had to remind myself that I was the one who asked him to take it slowly.