Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
But no, when he whips off the cover with a flourish, a steaming omelet with a side rasher of—
“Bacon!” I reach with both hands, already drooling.
“Ah ah,” he holds the plate aloft. “Not until you eat your porridge.” He hands me a bowl and spoon. Topped with fresh berries and cream, it’s hardly gruel, but it’s not bacon.
“You’re heartless,” I tell him, but dutifully dig in.
“So I’ve been told.” Another glimmer of a smile.
“Careful,” I mutter to the bowl. “I’ll one star you on Yelp.”
“Too late. I’ve already been voted best Evil Captor three years running.” As my mouth drops open—he made a joke!—he adds, “Having a castle helped.”
“I bet. How did you get a castle just outside New Olympus anyway? Did you build it?”
“Inherited it. My predecessor brought it over from the old country, stone by stone.”
My mouth is hanging open now. The Beast isn’t just making jokes, he’s sharing information? Before I get too excited, he raises his chin and orders, “Eat, Daphne.”
I lift my spoon and plunge it dramatically in the bowl. He watches me take a few bites before kneeling to build up the fire. I can’t help but admire the taut line of his backside, set off perfectly by exquisitely tailored pants.
“Remind me to thank your stylist,” I murmur.
“What?” he rises, dusting off his hands. Today he’s in a chunky off-white knit sweater. His black hair is tousled. Mmmmm.
“Nothing.” Daphne! Stop perving on your captor! My spoon clinks in the bowl as I shovel away at the oatmeal.
“Careful. Don’t make yourself sick.”
“I want bacon,” I say with my mouthful.
He makes a frustrated noise and kneels beside me, commandeering my spoon. “Slowly,” he says, feeding me a smaller bite.
“Fine.” I let him feed me as he’s done before, exaggerating my movements. “Mmm,” I hum and lick cream from my lips. His gaze hones onto my mouth. I nibble on a strawberry and he looks away, jaw clenching. Is that a flush on his swarthy skin?
I sit back, satisfied. I’m not the only one affected.
“Are you finished?” he asks.
To my disappointment, I am. “I’m full,” I sigh.
He sets the bowl down and picks up the plate. “Because I’m hungry.”
“That was my bacon!” I cry.
“Mine now,” he grins outright now, his teeth white and even under his mask. Without the tension in his jaw he looks…handsome?
I flop back in my chair. “One star.” I wave a hand at the grand furnishings, beautiful enough to adorn a modern palace. “Decor is great but the service leaves much to be desired.”
“Be nice, now,” he admonishes, dragging a second armchair closer before seating himself. “Otherwise I won’t share.” He holds up a slice of bacon. Gaw, it smells heavenly.
I hold out my hand and he shakes his head. Now I’m flushing. But it’s not the first time he’s fed me, so I lean in and get my reward. Is there an amused glint in his eyes as he feeds me? Fuck, I don’t care. Bacon is the best.
He feeds me all the breakfast meat like that. I wave away a forkful of the omelet, but gleefully accept the tiny cup of thick hot chocolate he serves from a china teapot. With the fire crackling and good food in my belly, I’m as spoiled as a princess from my mother’s stories.
When was the last time I had a leisurely breakfast? Without lab reports or quarterly filings to go over? Rachel would be slack-jawed. And not just because I’m enjoying a meal with my evil captor.
By the end of breakfast, it’s stopped sleeting. The day is brighter even though the clouds are grey.
“I want to go outside,” I tell the Beast.
“It’s too cold.”
“I can bundle up. Come on, the storm’s long over. I want you to show me the gardens.” The labyrinth. If I don’t dare ask him about Battleman’s or my company’s patents, maybe I can learn more about him.
A ploy, I tell myself. A way to guard myself against my captor. Not because I want to know him as a person. A friend or, gods forbid, a lover.
I mean…sometimes I might have had a few stray fantasies over the past few days, but those don’t count, right? I was half-delirious with fever most of the time. I blink away the confusing thoughts when the Beast starts talking again.
“It’s winter. They’re not at their best.” He twists to look out the window. My breath catches at his profile. It’s somehow familiar. A memory tickles me…
He turns back, his dark brown eyes catching mine, and the memory is gone.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” I say as he plumps my pillows. “The roses look amazing. My mother would love them.”
“Yes, she did love her roses, didn’t she?” he murmurs.
How do you know? What do you know about my mother? About me? I bite back the questions.