Page 30 of Isabelle and the Beast

Chapter

Fifteen

ADAM

What’s happening to me?

Isabelle is bringing out the worst in me. First, she asked questions she shouldn’t have. Then in the library, she got me to talk about my family. I was able to freeze her out for a few days, but now… I actually went and saved her in the snow.

Held her all night in front of the fire.

Brought her into the most sacred room of this castle—at least to me—and told her she could come in whenever she wants.

And now, worst of all, I’m considering cleaning up my appearance.

After leaving her in the theater, I went back to my office to regroup. The computer monitor was still frozen on the moment when I entered and was speaking to Isabelle—fine, yelling at her—and it gave me another perspective on myself.

Do I really want to look like this?

What would my mother think?

Argh. I’m getting too soft.

Lionel knocks on the office door and enters. “How is Ms. Isabelle?”

“She’s well,” I respond, not taking my eyes off the monitor. “She’s in the theater.”

“Oh?”

I look up at him, his eyebrows raised. “Yes.”

He presses his lips together in a small smile.

“Don’t read into it,” I say.

“Of course not,” he says, the smile still on his face. “Is there anything you need?”

I glance down at the picture that has taken residence on my desk, then at the image on the screen. After a moment of hesitation, I finally speak the words. “Yes. Call Cassandra. It’s time for a haircut.”

I’m nervous.

This is ridiculous. Why should I be nervous? I just got a haircut and trimmed my beard down to a more civilized length. There’s nothing wrong with that.

And it wasn’t for Isabelle.

It was for me.

But as I stand behind my chair, waiting for her to enter the dining room, I can’t help the rush of nerves at what she’s going to say when she sees me. Not only did I get a haircut, but I finally decided to wear something other than a sweatshirt and sweatpants. It’s nothing too exciting, just a blue button-down and slacks, but I know she’ll notice the change and comment on it.

“You look sharp, sir,” Lionel comments from behind me.

I grunt in response. I’m sure he’s got another smug smile on his face, but I don’t want to see it.

And then she enters. She’s wearing the same clothes fromthis morning, her hair is a little messy, but her beauty still strikes me every time I see her.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, walking straight to her chair and not looking at me. “I fell asleep again watching movies and—oh!” She stops dead in her tracks, her eyes locked on mine. “You cut your hair.”

I swallow.Do you like it?I want to ask, but of course I won’t. That’s pathetic. Instead, I just nod. “It was time.”

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