Page 73 of Marriage of Revenge

And the Beast doesn't share.

Not even with death.

Her mouth opens, closes. That hesitation hits like ice water, like remembering who we are beneath this heat between us. Like remembering every lie that led to fire.

"Tell me." I grip her chin, forcing her eyes to mine. Not gentle - the Beast doesn't do gentle. But the way she flushes under my touch, like she can see right through the scars to whatever's left of my soul? It makes something dangerous stir in my chest. "Isabella?" Her name comes out sharp because I see it now - not defiance in her eyes, but real fear.

Something twists in my gut watching her struggle for words. Is this worry? Some leftover instinct from when I used to give a shit about her pain? I don't want to care why she's scared. Don't want to remember how it felt to be her protector instead of her nightmare.

But fuck if the look in her eyes doesn't crack something open inside me. This isn't her playing games - this is pure terror. Not of me, not of what I'll do to her.

Of whatever truth she's hiding.

Whatever secret carved those scars into her skin.

Whatever makes her hands shake when she thinks I'm not watching.

I release her chin, reining in the Beast. Can't let her shut down. Not when I'm so close to answers.

"Come." My voice carries gravel instead of threats. "I'll get your secrets eventually. But first..." I gesture to dinner like this is normal, like we're not playing games with knives behind our smiles.

The table waits under Mediterranean stars, everything perfect because that's how I run my empire. But her wariness reads clear as blood on marble - fingers fidgeting with silk, eyes mapping exits that don't exist. She's still my little dancer, always looking for her next escape.

Too bad she'll never find one.

I want to watch her come undone beneath me, want her surrender sweet on my tongue. Want her begging for my touch, addicted to what I can give her. Because once she yields completely? That's when I'll snuff out whatever fire still burns in those eyes.

The grin that curves my lips comes uninvited. "Honeysuckle." Her perfume hits like memory, like promises I should have burned away. "You found the perfume.”

"I did." Her voice wavers just enough to catch. "Thank you. The clothes... they feel like me."

I pull out her chair, letting my fingers drift across her neck - just enough to feel her body betray her with a shiver. My lips find that soft spot behind her ear where curls meet skin, where pulse beats heavy with truth. The sound she makes, the way her hands twist silk like she's trying to anchor herself - fuck if that doesn't feed something primal in me.

"I remember everything." The words ghost across her skin, and isn't that the fucking problem? I remember every dance, every smile, every moment before flames rewrote our story. Tonight's more complicated than revenge - it's about gettingunder her skin, about making her remember who we were before making her see what we've become.

The bell feels foreign in my hand - privacy isn't something I usually chase. But tonight no one can witness this dance between Beast and Beauty. Can't let them see how gentle words might cut deeper than cruel ones.

Because breaking her isn't about physical pain - a blade's too quick, too kind.

This is about trust, about crafting possibilities she'll reach for like a dancer stretching toward perfect form. About letting her believe in redemption before I show her how thoroughly hope can burn. And to make her trust the Beast? I'll have to give her pieces of myself I've kept locked away, secrets that taste like blood.

Only then will her shattering be complete.

When she realizes the monster she created still knows how to play gentle.

Right before he shows her what betrayal really costs.

CHAPTER 38—ANTONIO

Every truth I feedher has to be real - Isabella's got this fucking sixth sense about lies. She sees past the scars, past the Beast's teeth, right to whatever's still human underneath.

One false note while I'm peeling back her layers, and she'll lock up tighter than a prison cell. Can't risk that. Not when breaking her requires her to break herself first.

"After your father cast me out... After my mother..." The words taste like smoke in my mouth. Isabella's eyes lift to mine - still defiant, but haunted now.

"What happened?"

"I went back once. Begged him for anything of hers. Just one piece to..." Memory cuts like Henrik's blade, but I let it bleed.

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