Page 1 of Isabelle and the Beast

Chapter

One

ISABELLE

This is how I die: driving up a steep road with narrow twists and turns, set to the soundtrack ofThe Sound of Music. It’s almosttooironic that the Mother Abbess is singing “Climb Every Mountain” as I slowly make my way up this ridiculous road.

“I hate my dad,” I mutter to myself, gripping the steering wheel even more tightly. It’s allhisfault I’m endangering my life, driving up this winding mountain road to the giant mansion where Adam Stone, Hollywood movie star turned pariah, has been hiding for the last eight months.

I’m not nervous about meeting him just because he’s a celebrity. I’ve been surrounded by famous people my whole life. My dad, who’s a manager for a few big names in Hollywood, has brought his clients around our family home ever since I was a little girl. And my much-older sisters are supermodels, known around the world for their poise and beauty. So meeting a household-name actor shouldn’t shake me up as much as it does.

But this isAdam Stone. Hollywood hothead. The former starwho punched fellow actor Tristan Jackson last fall on the red carpet of the Goldie Awards and then…disappeared.

I’m going to suck it up and be brave, though. Because now,I’mone of my dad’s clients. And Ifinallyhave the chance to score a leading role in a movie. Granted, it’s a cheesy rom-com for one of those family-friendly channels, the Family Entertainment Network. But I’ve been trying to get a role besides “Barista #3” for years, and this is my chance.

And who do they want to star alongside me?

Adam Stone.

As terrified as I am of him and his reputation, having a huge name like his next to mine would do incredible things for my career. It hasn’t been easy getting a role that fits my “quirks,” as my dad likes to say. Most casting directors like to say I’m pretty enough (gotta love how superficial show business can be), but that my personality is a little too “whimsical” and “unconventional.”

So finally, FINALLY, I fit the role, and it’s actually to be the lead.

Now I just have to convince Adam Stone to do it with me. I’m sure the producers could find some lower-named actor to play my love interest, but theyreallywant Adam. Something about making the Family Entertainment Network seem like a more legitimate production company.

But convincing him to do the role will be a task in and of itself. My dad, who is both Adam’s manager and mine, asked him to take the role, and Adam said he’d consider it, under one condition:

That I come up to his secluded mansion and meet him myself.

Shouldn’t be a huge deal, right? Except that Adam Stone has been hiding at this giant “castle” for almost a year, immediately after he punched a fellow actorin the faceat the Goldie Awards.

No one has seen or heard from him since.

So…yeah. I’m a little nervous. And this winding road on the edge of a mountain isn’t doing anything to allay my fears. But it’s just a quick meeting, and my dad reassured me that there was nothing to be afraid of, so here I am, being brave and handling the situation like a big girl.

The temperature has been dropping steadily as I’ve driven higher and higher. When I left my apartment in LA this morning, hugging my best friend and roommate Jen goodbye, it was a typical May morning—somewhere in the mid-sixties. A few hours later, I arrived at the bottom of this ridiculous mountain, on the outskirts of Brookhaven, California, and it was seventy-five degrees. Now, at three in the afternoon? It’s forty-eight degrees.

“It’s the middle of May,” I say to no one but myself. Although I swear sometimes my car, Philippe, can hear me.

My GPS connection disappeared about twenty minutes ago, but according to the original estimates, I should be there in about ten more minutes.

As I’m contemplating my life decisions, I see white flakes falling from the sky.

“Is that…snow?” I gasp. In answer, Philippe decides to skid on the road. Not a huge amount, but enough that I grip the steering wheel a little tighter and slow down more than I already was. Philippe isnotbuilt for snow. He’s just a Honda Civic with street tires. As long as I make it to the top of the mountain in the next few minutes, I think I’ll be all right.

I try not to blink, keeping my eyes open every second so I don’t accidentally make a wrong turn. The snow keeps coming down, thicker and thicker, and I’m starting to panic.It’s early May.How on earth is there a snowstorm in Southern California in May?! I know Big Bear gets snow in the winter, but this far into spring seems pretty far-fetched.

My breathing is shallow, and I feel like I might start crying when I turn and see a giant stone building just ahead through the trees. I exhale, blowing through my lips, and now I almost start crying out of relief. I made it. I didn’t die.

A forest surrounds the castle, and trees line the path on either side of my car. The enormous building looks like it’s straight out of a Jane Austen novel, made from gray stone with turrets and towers. There’s even stained glass on some of the side windows.

Slowly, I drive closer and into the circular driveway surrounding a fountain that must be in use when it isn’t snowing. Which should be now. Because, after all,it’s May.

A lithe man wearing a long peacoat and gray scarf stands at the front entrance, so I pull the car up to him and turn it off. He gingerly steps around my car to open the door for me, letting the freezing air rush into my car, causing goosebumps to rise on my bare arms.

“Hello, Ms. Lovett,” he says. “Thank you for visiting us here at Stone Castle.”

“Thank you for having me,” I reply. I quickly slip on my heels—they were too tricky to wear while driving, so I made the trip barefoot. He offers me his hand, and I take it, carefully stepping out of the car and into the snow piled about an inch high. “Is it supposed to be snowing?”

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