Page 61 of Beau and the Beast

He deserves to be loved and cared for.The words hit Wolfram like a physical blow. When was the last time someone actually thought he deserved love? Had it ever happened?

By the time he'd been self-assured enough to want to be loved by someone other than his father, Wolfram had been so rich and isolated that he wasn't sure how to find someone. And then the curse had intervened.

"Your brother deserves more than I do, I'm sure," Wolfram said. "I'd wager he never ruined lives like I did."

"No, he hasn't," Beau admitted. "I'm not saying that you're without fault. But... maybe there are ways for you to be a little less miserable."

“I believe Iwillbe less miserable for the duration of your stay with us,” Wolfram said, not sure why he was allowing himself to be truthful, to be vulnerable in that moment.

“On that note, I think I might retire,” Beau said.

“Right. After-dinner discussion wasn’t mentioned on your schedule.” He removed the schedule from his vest pocket and examined it. “Actually, there’s nothing on the schedule now. Am I permitted to sleep?” he asked with a smile.

Beau narrowed his eyes and gave him a strange look.

“Was that ajoke,Wolfram?”

“Hm? Me? I don’t joke,” Wolfram said, keeping a straight face. “I’m just making sure I don’t disobey my new master.”

Beau laughed high and clear and Wolfram knew it was one of the best sounds he’d ever heard.

“Yeah, Wolf,” he said, smiling and standing to go. “You should get some sleep.”

Chapter Twelve

In the twoweeks since Beau had arrived, Violet could barely keep track of the ways that life changed for everyone within the walls of the condo.

She had gotten Beau all the things he needed to write a book: a typewriter, paper, notebooks, and a voice recorder. On a whim, she’d also ordered him charcoals and a sketchbook. He smiled, thanked her, and set up a makeshift office in one corner of the living room.

Before Beau, time slipped past them unmarked except for the rise and fall of the sun. Now, Violet found herself measuring the passage of time by the growing stack of papers next to Beau's typewriter.

Beau had brought chaos into the penthouse, to be sure. But once he found his footing with Wolfram, with the rest of them, Beau moved through the penthouse trailing life and happiness behind him like a wake in the water. Instead of every staff member sneaking furtively into and out of their rooms, they gathered more often in the living room.

The clacking of Beau's typing broke an invisible seal. To make noise in a space that had been silent for so many years primed the pump for the rest of them to hold a conversation out in the open or say hello to one another.

Wolfram was the only one among them who still hung back in his room every day—but even that had changed somewhat with the introduction of their nightly dinners together.

Beau hadn't slacked off in his insistence that Wolfram join them to eat every night. On nights that he fasted, he attended dinner too, just for the wine and conversation.

Violet didn't miss the way that Beau had changed their seating arrangement after that first time, moving Wolfram and his special chair so that they were at the center of the table rather than on opposite ends. With the new position, Wolfram was able to see his reflection in the plate glass window behind Beau's head, and he cleaned his mouth and hands judiciously throughout dinner.

She also noticed the way that Beau now structured their dinners around Wolfram. It was impossible for the man to eat everything he was served in the same small window that the others ate, and so Beau began cooking three-course meals for them—adding on elaborate salads with fresh vinaigrettes and hard cheeses with crusty baguettes, sorbets after the meal or plates of delicate cookies—bringing out each course only when Wolfram had made his way through some of his own meal.

It meant that dinner was now a formal, hour-long affair and everyone finished eating at the same time.

Violet wondered if any of the others had noticed how adeptly Beau had worked Wolfram back into their nightly meals, all of the ways he'd thought to make the experience pleasant for all of those involved. He'd moved Alfie and Geoffrey to the ends of the table so that when they had the uncomfortable urge to stare at their boss, they now shared looks to each other instead.

It was a perfect compromise and Violet was impressed. Though she wouldn't wish her fate on anyone else, she lamented the fact that Beau hadn't been a penthouse resident all along. With him bringing them together every night, she began to feel like she was part of a family—not just one in a group of prisoners. The past decade would’ve been very different indeed had Beau been there.

Wolfram smiled now and evenlaughedsometimes, a noise she'd grown so disused to hearing that it shocked her the first time it happened at the dinner table.

Theyalllaughed more, she realized. It was easy to laugh with Beau making jokes, teasing them and smiling whenever he was teased in turn. Song found his quick wit again, not afraid to make jokes, and James remembered his bellowing laughs. Even Geoffrey and Alfie smiled more, ribbed everyone—even their boss.

It was easier for all of them to approach Wolfram now with him in better spirits—easier, even than it had been when they were all simply working together in the same office. They no longer emailed Wolfram in his study, finding it easier to ask their questions before and after dinner.

They'd quickly gotten into the habit of helping Beau in the kitchen, at first out of a sense of duty since he was doing so much cooking, and then because it was pleasant to be around someone in a good mood doing something he so obviously loved. Song and James became his sous chefs, chopping vegetables and measuring out ingredients before Beau needed them. Violet watched from the counter, ran to get whatever they needed, made runs down to the wine cellar. Alfie and Geoffrey set the table, kept the wine glasses full, and always cleaned up the dishes after dinner.

Remarkably, Wolfram began to join them in the kitchen sometimes while Beau was preparing dinner. It had only started to happen a few days ago, but he'd shown up ten minutes before dinner was served—and then the next day, twenty. He carried around hot pans as Beau directed, and Violet was shocked to see Wolfram's and Beau's relaxed postures around one another.

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