Page 67 of Isabelle and the Beast

Standing in the center of the dance floor is Adam. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, a light blue shirt, and a white bow tie. Tucked into his front pocket is a red rose. But it’s the look in his eyes that takes my breath away. The heat in his gaze threatens to burn me on the spot. Desire. Passion. Longing. Everything I feel is reflected in his expression, and I want nothing more than to be in his arms, having him hold me close.

He holds his hand out to me, and as I approach, he gives a small bow. “May I have this dance?” he asks.

“You may,” I reply, a coy smile on my lips. He draws me in, holding one hand in his, and his other arm around my waist, pulling me close.

The first few notes of “Music of the Night” sound through the room, and I stifle a giggle. “Are we embracing the phantom mood tonight?”

“I thought it was appropriate,” he replies.

This song has never seemed so romantic, with Adam’s arm around my waist, pulling me close to him, and my hand held in his. I breathe him in, his scent reminding me of the woods around us, and I feel like I could stay here forever.

I look around the room, noticing that all the staff are dressed in their finest clothes, but they’re not joining us on the dance floor. “Why are they just watching us?” I ask.

“I asked them to let us have this first dance,” Adam replies.

“Like a wedding,” I say with a smile, then immediatelyregret my words. Did I just bring up a wedding with Adam Stone?

But he doesn’t seem fazed, and he just grins down at me. “Like a wedding,” he confirms.

Be still, my heart.

We sway through the rest of the song, and after it’s done, everyone around the room claps. Even Mario lets out a little whistle, and my cheeks flush. Adam just takes me by the hand and leads me to the table set for two in the corner of the ballroom. “Let’s eat, and then we can dance some more.”

I follow him over to the elaborately decorated table for two, with a satin tablecloth and red roses in the center. He pulls out my chair, like a perfect gentleman, then sits across from me.

“You know, the first night I came here, I wondered if you’d make me sit across the giant dining table from you,” I say.

He smirks. “I’m not that cold, am I?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Not anymore.”

He pauses, and his face turns serious. “I am sorry for the way I treated you when you first arrived.”

“I know.” I reach across the table and take his hand. “But you’ve proven to me that you’re not actually cold and harsh.”

He swallows hard, his eyes locked on mine. “When you say it, I almost believe it.”

I squeeze his hand tight, hoping I can impart the truth in my words. “It’s true. Believe it.”

His eyes gleam with something that almost looks like love, and before I can overanalyze it, the footmen arrive with our dinner dishes.

“Beef Wellington?!” I squeal. “I didn’t know they could make this!”

“I asked Mario and we made it happen,” Adam says. “I hope you like it.”

The smell fills my senses, and I’m embarrassed that I almostcry from the familiarity. I take my first bite, nearly burning my mouth in the process, but it’s worth it for the taste. “This is incredible. Even better than I remembered.”

“I’m so glad,” Adam says. He’s been watching me and hasn’t taken a bite yet, but now he picks up his fork and digs in, too.

We eat in silence for the next few minutes, but it’s completely different from those nights where Adam gave me the silent treatment. We catch each other’s eyes and smile, a comfortable silence where we know we don’t have to say anything, but we can if we want.

Dessert is served, and it’s a butter cake with whipped cream. I could lick the whole plate and almost do. When I finally look up at Adam, his eyes are twinkling with amusement.

“What?” I ask.

He motions at the side of his mouth. “You have a little cream left there.”

I wipe my mouth with the napkin, but he shakes his head and laughs. He stands from his chair and steps around the table to me. “Let me,” he says, and bends down, kissing the side of my mouth.

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