Page 55 of Isabelle and the Beast

Iswore I wouldn’t interfere. Then why in the world am I doing this?

I know why. I’ve been standing outside the dining room door, listening to Isabelle’s interview, and fuming at that “reporter” for only wanting to know about her superficial sisters. Isabelle was so excited last night to have her own interview, to have the spotlight on herself for once, and this couldn’t have been further from the truth.

I waited as long as I could outside the door, even hearing her try to spin the conversation in her favor, but when Allegra didn’t cooperate, I knew I had to intervene.

Maybe this is stupid. No one has seen my face in months, and no one knows about the scar over my eye, since that happened just a few months ago.

But if I know Hollywood, nothing will get the attention back on Isabelle like my sudden appearance, directing the spotlight to her.

Isabelle looks up at me, her big brown eyes filled with shock and gratitude, and that’s all I need to see this through.

I look back at Allegra on the computer. “Hi, Allegra. Yes, it’s Adam Stone.”

Allegra’s mouth drops open. She’s at a loss for words. “How…what…”

“Nice to see you, too. I’m glad Isabelle is getting a chance to interview with you.”

“Where have you been for the last year?” Allegra finally manages a full sentence.

“That’s not important. What is important is the upcoming movie that Isabelle and I will be starring in. She’s an incredible actress, and everyone will know her name in the coming months. I suggest you take advantage of the opportunity to be the first reporter to break the news about our upcoming movie.” I move out of frame of the camera, looking back at Isabelle. Her eyes fill with joy, and a beaming smile lights her face. I might have to deal with public backlash for this, but Isabelle’s reaction makes it all worth it.

“Um, okay! So, Isabelle, tell us about this movie,” Allegra says, recovering.

“Yes, so…hang on one second.” Isabelle mutes herself and turns off the camera. “Can you sit over there?” she asks me, pointing at the seat across from her at the table.

I furrow my brow. “You want me to stay?”

She nods. “It’ll help me feel like I’m just talking to you instead of being interviewed.”

I fight a smile and walk around the table, taking a seat across from Isabelle. She nods and turns the microphone and camera back on. “Sorry about that. The movie is a rom-com, and it’s going to be produced by the Family Entertainment Network.” Her eyes find mine, and she smiles as she talks. I don’t fight my smile anymore. I grin back at her, and we have our own conversation. And I realize, somewhat unfortunately, how utterly enamored I am with this woman.

After dinner that night,where Isabelle and I have a lively conversation about the merits ofQuantum Directive, we go to the study for an after-dinner drink. Our evening together last night filled a place in my heart I didn’t know I was missing, and I want to spend as much time as possible with her now. She’s sitting on the floor, flipping through a book about the Revolutionary War she found in the library (she told me not to ask why), and I’m sitting in my wingback chair, readingEast of Eden. I feel like the vision in my left eye is coming back, and I’m trying to subtly test it by shutting my right eye and assessing what I can see. Some light comes through, but it’s still too blurry to see clearly.

That’s progress.

Isabelle suddenly looks up at me. “I think Josephine has a thing for Lionel.”

I’m thrown by her sudden conversation. “Josephine…the seamstress? And Lionel?”

She closes her book and sits on her knees. “When I met with Josephine this afternoon to get a dress made…that’s still okay, right?”

I nod. “Of course.”

“Lionel brought me over to her room, and she wassoflustered. She dropped a bunch of pins and was all flushed. Lionel was even smiling at her. I think he likes her back.”

“Are we in middle school?”

“Oh, come on, Adam! It’s so sweet! You can’t be such a grump that you’re not alittlesmitten with the idea of older people falling in love.”

Ever my savior, Lionel comes in with two hot cups of tea.

“Thank you, Lionel,” I say. I keep an eye on him, not sure what I’d see that would magically tell me he’s in love withJosephine. But now that Isabelle put the idea in my head, I can’t let it go.

I also wonder what Isabelle’s dress will look like.

“You’re welcome, sir.” Lionel sets the tray down on the side table then straightens. “Mr. Lovett just called.”

“Called me?” I ask. “Or Isabelle?”

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