Page 77 of When Hearts Surrender

“Don’t listen to them, Maxwell. It was an accident, that’s all.” Belle grabs my hand.

Fury boils inside me as I strain a smile at her, not wanting her to worry. I pat her hand and step away, my other hand reaching inside my pocket to take out my phone.

Accident or not, I’m looking into this Bob person.

Leave no stone unturned. The curse isn’t taking Belle from me.

Chapter 28

Turning my attention awayfrom the rough sketches of my fall/winter collection—a collection I’m calling “The Disaster” because everything I’m drawing looks like trash; I look outside the windows of the Elysium. It was supposed to be a slice of paradise for me in the mansion, a place where my creative juices could flow and I could show everyone how wrong they were for doubting my abilities.

But instead, I’m hitting a designer’s block. I sigh and stare at the dreary skies and the thin layer of snow outside. Murky fog has invaded the premises, swallowing all the life and light, leaving nothing untouched. Winter came early this year, and this November feels exceptionally cold, the kind of chill that burrows deep inside your bones.

A few black crows swoop down from the skies, their squawking adding to the desolate atmosphere as I turn back to the charcoal drawings in my hand—simple silhouettes of sleeveless turtlenecks and long trousers—beautiful, understated, and infinitelyboring.

How am I going to save McKenzie Atelier? Maxwell’s investment will keep things afloat for a little while, but if the elite and celebrities don’t come back into the fold, we’ll eventually end up back where we were.

Rubbing the fading bruise on my arm, I wince at the lingering soreness from my accident two weeks ago. My tyrant of a husband insisted I stay at the hospital for an entire week to make sure I didn’t have a secret concussion or some other hidden ailment. He moved me into a luxury suite and made sure I got around the clock care, even though I told him I was fine.

I remember how worried he was when he first saw me in the hospital.

The doctor had just left the room after telling me he thought I was fine from the fall. He mentioned as an aside, I wasn’t pregnant based on the standard blood tests they ran on me.

I was reeling from the crushing disappointment when Maxwell stormed into the room like a madman. I still remember his fevered eyes, his hair in disarray, like he spent the entire car ride tugging it, and how he barged past my friends and took my hand by my bedside.

Like I was the most precious person to him.

Like he couldn’t live without me.

My heart twists inside my chest. I wish my thoughts were true, that somehow, my cold, mercurial husband was secretly in love with me the way I’m slowly falling for him.

Maybe one day this arrangement of ours would become a real marriage.

He came over to the hospital every day at dinnertime and would bring Mora’s meals in a container. We’d sit in silence and eat side by side, but his attentions appeared to be preoccupied.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked one night as he packed up Mora’s containers into a bag.

His throat worked but didn’t answer me. Disappointment filled me. He was keeping me at a distance…again.

I sighed. “Why are you here if you’re going to be silent?”

“So you don’t have to be alone.” His piercing gaze snared on mine and for a moment, and I could’ve sworn he meant more than what he was saying, that he knew how lonely I was all my life, growing up locked away in my castle.

I bit back a smile.

His eyes flickered away, and I reached out for him but winced from the soreness in my body.

His nostrils flared, his eyes alert. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the doctor?”

I would’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

“Never. I’ll find the bastards responsible.” Violence seeped into his voice.

“You told me you wouldn’t do anything to the shelter!”

He looked away. “I promised nothing. No one hurts what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours,” I muttered, but my heart skipped a beat.

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