Page 49 of Isabelle and the Beast

She raises a brow, looking directly at me. “But that’s not the whole story.”

I shake my head. “No.”

She waits patiently, biding her time. “So, what is the story?”

She shared a piece of herself with me. It only feels natural to return the favor. “Growing up, I was always the one in charge of my siblings, responsible for keeping them in line. The best way to do that was to put on plays. I’d assign each of us a role—naturally, I was the dashing hero?—”

“I would expect no less,” she says with a smile.

I incline my head to her. “And then we’d perform these plays for my mother. Her eyes would light up and she’d always give a rousing standing ovation.”

“But you didn’t want to act when you were younger? You waited until, what, five years ago?”

I nod. “It was…” My voice trails off. I haven’t spoken this next part out loud. But Isabelle waits patiently, and I swallow down the pang. “After my mother died, I realized I didn’t want to do what was expected of me. She would have loved to see me act, but I was too worried about my father’s and siblings’ expectations. I was supposed to be the one to take over Stone Technologies. My father had been training me my whole life for it. But when she passed, I just…left.”

It’s the first time I’ve spoken specifically about my mother’s passing to Isabelle. She doesn’t flinch; perhaps she already knew. And she lost her mother, as well, although hers was at a much younger age. But it’s a bond we share, the thread we shared with Theo earlier, one that is uncommon to most.

Isabelle places her hand on mine. I look down at our joined hands, but the warmth I feel can’t be seen. For the second time, I feel like my left eye is starting to see again. I blink a few times, keeping my gaze on our joined hands, trying to determine if my sight is back without looking like a maniac.

“I’m glad you decided to act,” she says, breaking my attention. “But I’m sorry for the circumstances that led to it.”

“Thank you,” I say softly.

She sits back, taking her hand with her. I want to reach out and hold it again. I want to touch her, to feel her near me. After months of living here, cutting myself off from most human interaction, I want to fill my senses with Isabelle. But I fear it’s too much.

And, apparently, I was wrong about my eye. It’s still dark.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one getting interviewed,” she says with a small smile, lightening the mood.

“Yes. I’m sorry about that.” I rub my forehead. “I don’t know whatcame over me.”

“Don’t apologize,” she says. “I have a feeling you needed to get that out.”

I look over at her again, warmed by her nonjudgmental attitude. Her kindness slowly melts away my icy exterior, and the more time we spend together, the more time Iwantto spend with her.

And I need to know if she feels the same.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

ISABELLE

Adam shifts in his seat. “All right, back to questions about you.”

“Let’s go,” I say.

“One thing they might actually ask is your favorite movie.” He tilts his head, a smirk on his lips. “I’m sure you’ll say it’sQuantum Directive.”

I raise a brow at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on. Surely you took your friend to see that one. Even I admit that it was one of my best films.”

I suck in a breath. “You did overhear my conversation with Jen!”

His eyes widen when he realizes his mistake. “Just bits and pieces,” he confesses.

I rack my brain, trying to remember at what point in the conversation Jen talked about making out with Adam, and if that was before or after she LOUDLY announced I had dragged her to every one of Adam’s movies over the last five years.

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