Page 39 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

I did not like her calling my mother Mama. I didn’t like her hanging out in my apartment all day. I didn’t like her staring at me as if she had any right to me, and I really didn’t like that I was going to have to answer her demanding question because now Mom wanted to know who Isobel was too.

Dammit.

“Uh, no,” I said, frowning between the two women. The bite I’d just taken seemed to grow larger in my throat the more I tried to swallow it. “She’s not another employee. She’s Mr. Nash’s daughter.”

Mom smiled politely. Gloria scowled harder.

“I didn’t realize he had any children,” Mom said.

I nodded. “Yeah, he’s a widower with a son and a daughter. The so

n lives elsewhere, though.”

“How old’s the daughter?” Gloria asked, her jealousy thick and livid.

I stared at her, my jaw ticking. I didn’t want to answer her.

But Mom had to go and press, “Well?”

With a sigh, I muttered, “She’s twenty-five.”

Gloria snorted. “Twenty-five and still lives at home with her daddy? Wow, that’s impressive.”

I tipped my head to the side, drilling her with an insulted glare. “I’m twenty-eight and live with my mother.”

Face flushing, she immediately began to stutter, “That’s not…but your situation is unique. I’m sure Mr. Nash could buy his daughter another home to live in. Besides, why doesn’t she have her own job and take care of herself?”

“She can’t,” I snarled, needing to defend Isobel more than I needed my next breath.

But I was so vehement about it, both women reared back in surprise before Mom said, “What do you mean, she can’t? What’s wrong with her?”

My instinctive answer was nothing. There was nothing wrong with Isobel. She was flawless in my eyes. But after my passionate she can’t, I had to give them something.

“She, uh, well…she was in a house fire that killed her mother, and it left her…”

Mom pressed her hand to her chest. “Oh, that poor sweet child. Is she crippled?”

“No.” I smiled a bit to myself, thinking about how in shape she was. After running with her for a week, I still couldn’t keep up with her pace. She definitely wasn’t crippled. “I mean, she doesn’t use the fingers in her left hand much because of the burn wounds.” I’d noticed that about her, anyway. “But mostly it’s just…aesthetic.”

“So she looks hideous?” Gloria guessed, a smirk of evil relish brightening her features.

“No,” I said before I could check myself. Honestly, it was probably best if I let Gloria think Isobel was too revolting for me to have any interest in her. She’d probably hate her less, and I knew the two would never meet, but I didn’t want someone to hate Isobel, even in spirit only. “I don’t think the scars look that bad, but she’s become quite self-conscious about them. She doesn’t leave the property, like ever.”

The two women stared at me a moment longer before Gloria self-righteously proclaimed, “What a lazy, entitled coward.”

For the briefest moment, I was too shocked by her words to respond. Then I blinked and slowly said, “Excuse me?”

“She’s so scared people might laugh at her looks that she’s decided to live off her rich, fat daddy for the rest of her life and, what, eat bonbons while you shine her shoes? That’s appalling.”

“She’s not appalling.” I was so flabbergasted by the critique I couldn’t check my words. “The way she pushes herself every morning during her run, and how tenaciously she tends to her roses, is the very opposite of lazy. Plus, she’s been quite the trooper, helping me build her bookshelves. I think she carried just as many lumber supplies into the house from the truck as I did today. And who the hell cares if she lives the rest of her life on her daddy’s money? Trust me, he can certainly afford it.”

Lifting her chin, Gloria narrowed her eyes and sniffed. “I suppose you’ll try to convince me it’s bravery that makes her hide away from the rest of the world, too, won’t you?”

“Can you honestly blame her?” I spat back. “Her life was irrevocably changed. She’s just trying to deal with it the best way she can. Until you lose your mother in a fire and get half of your face melted off, you have no right to judge her so harshly.”

“Well,” Gloria said, her entire being rigid with sanctimonious outrage. “I think it’s time I be on my way.”

Finally, I agreed with her on something. “I think you’re right.”

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