Page 160 of Beau and the Beast

Still, it was frightening to think of someone he cared about changing in a way that was so dramatic.

He would neverwishthe curse on Wolfram—just in the same way that he would never wish his brother’s scars on Noah. If Noah was granted the opportunity to suddenly inhabit a body that looked just like everyone else’s, Beau would never begrudge him that simply because it would make Noah suddenly unfamiliar to him.

And just because Beau had come to enjoy the uniqueness of Wolfram—to see him as something much more than a beast—he couldn’t shy away from a change that would make Wolfram happier.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Once the firstdraft of the manuscript was done, it didn’t take long to get the rest of the book edited.

Of course, if Beau had access to an editor, he would’ve liked to have someone else’s input on the book. But he had a decent eye for proofreading.

He spent two days in Wolfram’s study, proofing the manuscript, finding places where passages needed to be added or trimmed down. After he’d pored over the first few chapters in the days before, tackling the rest of the edits came surprisingly quickly. It was as if after the first third of the biography, Beau had found his stride, the narrative flowing seamlessly between his consciousness and the page. His storytelling was rhythmic, his mind dipping into the flow and every word striking the page in exactly the way he’d intended.

For the first time in his life, Beau read his own writing and he was…impressed.

All it needed was a title. He had always been good at creating his own headlines at The Ledger—but headlines needed to be informative and pithy. They were different from book titles, which were allowed to hold a little mystery.

Finally, it came to him, half an hour before dinner a few nights later. Beau turned to the first page and wrote it down.

He was satisfied with it.

The book was done.

He looked up from his spot at the typewriter, trying to glance at Wolfram nonchalantly.

The man hadn’t changed. If there had been any sort of cosmic shift, neither of them were feeling it.

Could it be possible that they had all misunderstood the curse, Beau wondered. He thought about asking Violet if she would try leaving the penthouse experimentally to see if the staff’s piece of the curse had been changed in any way—but decided against it. Maybe she was right and a different milestone would be needed.

Though the evidence of magic was all around him, Beau still had no understanding of how it must work. It was maddening to simply have to wonder what would break a curse without having any experience with curses to begin with.

* * *

Beau seemed distractedwhen he left to prepare dinner but Wolfram forced himself to brush it off. Beau had been more prone to moodiness and absent mindedness since he’d handed over his first few chapters to Violet, but Wolfram chalked it up to nerves about the manuscript.

It was only fair. He’d spent a month working nonstop on a project that everyone had hitched their hopes to. If he didn’t break the curse—and Wolfram was fairly certain by now that Beau wasn’t the key—he would probably be devastated.

Wolfram allowed himself to acknowledge the fact that he, too, would be devastated.

Violet had been right. He finally had something to live for. It was a pity that Beau had to come into his life during the last sour months. The past ten years would’ve been entirely different under his influence.

Then again, Wolfram realized, he never would’ve wanted to keep Beau prisoner. It would’ve been awful for someone with so much love and life to give like Beau to squander it all on some growling beast who sat in a tower.

At dinner, Beau served up simmered chickpeas for the staff and the normal plate of seared steaks for Wolfram. When he took his seat, Wolfram could smell something strange on him—something off. Not quite fear and definitely not anger, but he was putting off a scent that stank like electrified wire overheating. It made Wolfram want to gather him up and bring him back to the study, to make off with Beau and take him anywhere that Wolfram could protect him.

He’d never noticed anything like it coming off of Beau, and the scent made him decidedly edgy.

Beau’s posture was all wrong, too, and after a moment he started jiggling his leg under the table. As the others ate, Wolfram shot him a look with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask without words,Are you alright?But Beau just smiled benevolently, as if he didn’t understand—and Wolfram found himself fighting a growing panic.

After the first course but before anyone had begun eating the second course, Beau cleared his throat and all eyes came to rest on him.

“I have something exciting to tell you all,” he said. “I finished the book today.”

Song, James, and Violet rushed to congratulate him, to raise their glasses in a toast—but Alfie, Geoffrey, and Wolfram all sat still.

“So it didn’t work then,” Alfie said, staring down at his plate.

“What do you mean?” Song asked.

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