Page 51 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

She had a gassy spell this afternoon and was generally fussy. I also think she’s getting a tooth. The internet says she’s on the younger side, but I have a feeling.

Finger to my lips in the universalShhmotion, I mouth,She just fell asleep.

He gestures me into the hallway.

Seriously, this guy. Who does he think he is?

I hesitate.

He tips his head toward the stairs.

My lips bunch up.

Chest rising, he inhales and then mouths,Please.

I can’t say no to that, but I won’t do it in one of his T-shirts. When I’m wearing them, his lips curl into a half smile and his eyes are blue flame. Plus, it’s huge on me, so I feel like a child. A grown-up woman child with a baby.

My mother’s words,Don’t be such a babywhen I’d show reluctance to follow her orders to fool people into falling for her traps filter back. I bristle but another part of me wants to take younger me by the hand and promise her everything will work out. But is that true?

Safe and snug in the Pack ’n Play, I resolve that Leonie’s childhood will be nothing like mine.

Baby monitor in hand, I meet Maddock at the foot of the stairs. His mouth is a flirty, cocky grin like he knew I’d give in. My stomach tightens because I want to resist this man.

The best I can do is sling my arms across my chest and in my sassiest tone, ask, “Well?”

“I’m leaving.” He walks down the hall, and then casually over his shoulder, he says, “First, I want to show you something.”

Even though curiosity tugs me toward him, I dig in my heels and don’t budge.

Chapter 12

Beauty & the Beast

I’m nearly through the door to the chateau’s library when I realize Honey didn’t follow me. She remains at the foot of the stairs, her expression a mess of puzzle pieces that don’t fit together—sadness flickers in her eyes, her nostrils flare with anger, and resolve keeps her lips in a thin line.

Her full, pretty, pink sassy lips.

“Are you coming?” I ask.

Jaw set, she says, “I should pack.”

“Honey, take your foot off the gas.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps.

“Come in here and I’ll tell you.”

With one hand on the banister, she seems to argue with herself. It’s not that I want to boss her around. No, she does plenty well managing herself like a C-suite executive. I’ve learned that if I’m subtle, I won’t get her attention. She’ll speed away before I have a chance to remind her that not every piece of news is bad news.

“This isn’t the scene of a crime,” I say, eager to show her something I think she’ll like.

She practically cackles.

“Please come here,” I repeat.

Arms across her chest, she stomps over.

“You were a real delight as a teenager, weren’t you?”

---