Page 68 of Isabelle and the Beast

Shivers run down my spine. We’ve shared many kisses this week, more than I can count, but each time his lips meet mine feels like the first. I can’t get enough. He moves from the side of my mouth to give me a proper kiss, his lips melting into mine as he leans over my chair.

I pull back, a little embarrassed at our public display.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asks.

I gesture at the people around us. “We haven’t really…you know, kissed that much in front of everyone.” I lean in and whisper, “Like Lionel.”

Adam glances over his shoulder at his trusted friend, who just smiles and gives him a thumbs up. “I don’t think heminds,” he says, then wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to standing, flush against his body.

I let out a little gasp of surprise. Adam groans low and kisses me again, deeply this time, and I let myself forget about everyone around us. His hands grasp my waist, a sense of urgency in his kisses and his hold, as if he knows that this bubble around us is going to burst when we leave here tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

I pull back again, and peer into his eyes. The eyes I’ve come to know and admire. One crystal blue, one faded and hazy. And in those eyes are the two sides of Adam that I know—on the one hand, generous and protective; but on the other hand, gruff and stern. They’re two halves that make up a whole person, the person I want by my side each day.

“What happens tomorrow?” I ask softly.

Adam tilts his head. “Tomorrow?” he repeats, his voice raspy.

“When we leave.”

“Oh.” His hands settle heavy on my hips, our bodies still close together. “We go back to LA. And we make the movie together.”

I nod once, already knowing that piece of our future. “And when we’re not making the movie?” I ask slowly.

“And when we’re not making the movie…” He dips his head, presses his lips against mine, and says, “We’ll be doing a lot more of this.”

I let out a breath, relief flooding my body. “I was worried this was just…you know…”

“Stockholm Syndrome?” Adam supplies.

I laugh out loud, tipping my head back. “That’s not what I would call it.”

“Of course it’s not. You’re the prisoner in the scenario.”

“Well, either way, I wanted to make sure this wasn’t just a fling by forced proximity.”

His expression softens, and he holds my gaze. “This isn’t a fling. And, yes, forced proximity brought us together and helped me realize what a jerk I’ve been. But what’s happening here between us…” He swallows hard. “It feels a lot like?—”

“Mr. Stone!” Lionel’s voice rings across the ballroom. He has a phone up to his ear, and he looks desperate.

“What is it, Lionel?” Adam asks.

Lionel crosses the ballroom to us, his steps quick and light. “You’ve received an urgent phone call.” He holds the phone out to us.

We both look at the screen. I’m sure Adam worries that it’s Lily, because that’s what I’m assuming.

But it’s not. It’s my father.

Chapter

Thirty

ADAM

Iput the call on speakerphone and hold the phone between us so Isabelle can hear, as well. “Jim? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been calling you for three days,” he says, anger dripping from his words. “Why have neither of you picked up?”

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