Page 8 of Isabelle and the Beast

For some reason, he doesn’t despise me. If anything, every time I snap at him, he tries to draw closer. If that’s not some twisted logic, I don’t know what is.

Lionel approaches my desk. “Might I remind you that your acquisition of this role depends, not only on your approval, but that of Ms. Lovett as well?”

Heaving a sigh, I run my hand down my beard. He’s not wrong. Isabelle could decline the role. But I’m the more sought-after actor between the two of us. She’s easily replaceable.

“She won’t decline,” I reply. “She’s too eager to break into acting.”

“I’m sure making yourself slightly more presentable wouldn’t hurt, though.”

“No, it probably wouldn’t.” Is Lionel right? Should I make sure she agrees to the part by changing into something less…homeless?

But here’s the problem: if I change my clothes for her, that defeats the entire purpose of this meeting. I don’twanta costar who’s trying to change me, making me act a certain way or dressing how I don’t want, or worst of all, speaking to her when I don’t feel like it. Conversation and small talk are not part of the deal. I want to show up to work, do my job, go home, and get paid.

“I’m staying in these clothes,” I decide. “And that’s final.”

Lionel shrugs and raises a brow. “As you wish, sir. Shall I prepare the dining room?”

I pause. “Let’s wait another hour. This evening is on my timeline.”

Lionel shakes his head in disapproval but doesn’t say anything to argue with me. “I’ll let you know when everything is ready.”

He bows his head and exits the room, and I’m left wondering what Isabelle is doing while she waits.

Was this a bad idea? Am I setting myself up for failure?

No. If I’m getting back into acting, I want it onmyterms. And if that means she needs to endure some discomfort, so be it.

Chapter

Four

ISABELLE

Two hours after Brigette left, Adam and I finally sit down for dinner.

At a gigantic dinner table that fits eighteen people.

Thankfully, we’re sitting at one end together, not on opposite ends. But still—weird.

The room is dimly lit, just like the study, and my eyes are struggling to adjust. High-back wooden chairs with floral upholstery are placed around the table, and sconces with candles light the walls. A chandelier glimmers above us, but it must be on a dimmer because it’s barely providing enough light to see our food.

Now that we’re sitting here, I’m especially glad I didn’t change into a fancy dress or do anything to my hair because Adam still looks like a mountain man wearing his sweatshirt and sweatpants. How ridiculous would I have looked in an evening gown when he’s wearing sweats?

He hasn’t said a word to me. He came in, sat down while eyeing me carefully, and is now eating his salad without acknowledging my presence.

I feel like screaming ‘What do you want from me?’, becauseSERIOUSLY, why am I here? Why couldn’t this meeting have been done over the phone, or even on Zoom? Couldn’t he have gotten the information he needs from me in anormalmanner? But no. I had to drive all the way up to this creepy castle and sit here with him…in silence.

I’ve got to figure this out. Guess it’s up to me to strike up the conversation, even though HE’S the one with this grand idea of having me come up here to meet him.

I clear my throat. “The Lily room is beautiful. Your sister must love it here.”

The instant scowl on his face tells me that was the wrong thing to say.

“How do you know about my sister?” he growls.

“I…I don’t know anything about her,” I stammer. I’m about to say that Brigette told me about her, but I worry that will get her in trouble, and she’s too sweet to face Adam’s wrath. So I stay quiet.

Adam grunts and stabs another forkful of salad.

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