Twenty or thirty thousand dollars? Oh my god…
“No, that’s not necessary.” I reached over and had to practically pry the ring out of his fingers. “They sent me to ask about it. Thanks for your help!”
I’m so fucking glad I didn’t bring one of the pieces in here that actually looked expensive. Holy shit.
I was practically running when I got back to my car. If the ring was worth as much as he said, then there was a chance he would make a call to the cops—just to be safe. Simple math told me that the value of the jewelry I had taken was enough to get me locked up in prison for a very long time. I started driving in circles again—with fear swirling in my veins. I would never be able to explain where I got the jewelry—I was definitely going to be arrested if the cops pulled me over and searched the car. There was no way around that.
My foster parents would kick me out immediately—and I was eighteen—I hadn’t enrolled in school yet—there would be no way for Ms. Betty to place me with someone else. She might not even want to when she realized I had resorted to theft—and that was the only thing that could explain where an orphan living in the foster system got her hands on jewelry worth that kind of money.
I need to return it—that’s the only choice I have.
I drove around for about an hour contemplating my decision, and every time I passed a police car, my whole body trembled. All I wanted was an opportunity at a better life, and there was a chance I threw away the one I had in an attempt to get it. I really was worse than pond scum. I broke into someone’s house—stole valuable family heirlooms—and the weight of that was heavier than I ever expected it to be. I spun my world out of control, and the only way to bring it back into balance was to face the beast, apologize, and give him back what I stole. Maybe that would convince him to drop the charges if he had already called the cops. Even if he hadn’t, I didn’t want to keep the jewelry. It felt like a curse that I needed to be free of.
I need gas. I won’t make it to the mansion and back home unless I stop.
The closest gas station was the one on the corner of Marigold and Lawson. I hated to stop there, especially when I previously planned to rob it, but I had already wasted enough gas. I parked at the pump, went inside, and trembled when I approached the counter. The same girl that was there the day we walked up with water guns tucked in our pockets was behind the register. I asked for ten dollars on the pump I parked next to, and she barely looked at me when she rang up my purchase. The fact that she was almost a victim of a robbery didn’t seem to have impacted her in any way. I saw Mr. Davis in the back room—going over paperwork.
I wonder if they would be this calm if we had actually come through the door waving our water guns like they were loaded firearms…
I put gas in my car and drove away from the convenience store. In a way, that was a small weight lifted. In the back of my mind, I was scared that they had recognized us somehow, but didn’t know our names. The girl definitely should have—she went to school with me. Mr. Davis had seen me come in a number of times, and I caught him staring—I was pretty sure he knew what my ass looked like in a pair of jeans. Either way, that piece of my criminal past seemed to be without consequence—I hoped the rest of it would be too when I returned the jewelry to the beast that lived in a mansion in the woods.
All I can do is try—even if I’m just setting myself up for what I already deserve.
I was scared when I turned down the old road that was mostly hidden from view, and my fear intensified as I got closer to the driveway that led to the mansion. All of my mistakes—the foolishness that I had succumbed to—they flooded my thoughts like a cascade of regret. I fought through the fear and regret as I drove past the rusted iron gate and parked my car. I was scared of facing the beast too. I didn’t think he would actually hurt me since he allowed me to leave with the jewelry in the first place, but there was still something terrifying about him. Something had caused him to retreat from the world and live in isolation.
Hopefully he’ll forgive one more intrusion so I can make this right…
Six
Adam
The memories of my wedding day never left, nor did the heartache that came after it. After almost losing the pocket watch, my emotions were in turmoil. I shouldn’t have had that kind of connection to a trinket, but it meant everything to me. I held it in my hand for hours after the girl with the honey-colored curls left. I was still holding it when I heard a car outside of my house. My senses immediately went on high alert. Had she returned? Had she brought friends? Were they going to try and cover up her crime with violence? Had my miserable existence finally come to an end? A fitting punishment for daring to feel something for someone other than the woman I swore to love for all of eternity. I stood up and walked to the window—she was alone. The jewelry she took was clutched her hand, just like it was when she left. My eyes followed her as she walked up the steps, and then there was a knock on my front door.
“Are you there? Can you open the door?” Her words were soft—almost like a song playing in my ear. “I want to return what I took—and apologize.”
I had dealt with treachery before. I knew what it sounded like—what it smelled like—I could sense it in someone’s voice. That was the burden of my youth. I was a prince who was destined to be king, and there were always plots against my family. I didn’t hear any of that in her voice. She sounded sincere and apologetic—with a lingering sadness in her tone. I slowly walked to the door and hesitated. I felt that desire again—the one that shouldn’t have existed inside me—and for a girl that was nothing more than a common thief. In the world I grew up in, a girl like her would have been flogged and imprisoned—possibly worse for stealing from a member of the royal family.
But this isn’t the world I grew up in. I’m no longer a prince, and I’ll never be a king.
“You can keep it.” I pulled the door open and glared at her. “None of that stuff means anything to me.”
“I can’t…” She looked down at the ground. “Please, just take it back. I’m sorry that I took it in the first place.”
She was trembling. There was definite remorse. She finally lifted her head, and I saw tears in her eyes—they were a beautiful shade of amber—slightly darker than her hair. I might have become a beast with very little humanity left, but I had no desire to watch a pretty girl cry—especially over something so meaningless to me. She was so damn gorgeous. Those honey-colored curls framed her face in a way that made her absolutely ravishing. Her curves were mesmerizing. The man that still existed inside of me quelled the beast.
“Put them back where you found them.” I pulled the door the rest of the way open and stepped to the side.
“Okay.” She nodded and walked into my house.
I could have just taken them from her at the door, but I didn’t want to watch her walk away again. I felt a pull towards her—like she was a magnet that had made my cold iron heart flutter in my chest. It was alarming and magical at the same time. I didn’t know how to process that kind of feeling. Everything except numbness and pain had been my lethargic existence for ten long years. I closed the door and watched as she ascended the stairs. I didn’t follow her—for all I knew, it could be an elaborate ruse to steal more stuff—but I didn’t think that it was. I heard her moving around my great-grandmother’s bedroom, and then she returned with a solemn expression on her face as she walked back down the stairs.
“Is your conscious clear now?” I tilted my head.
“No, but at least I returned what I stole.” She sighed and immediately looked down at the floor.
“I wasn’t going to call the police. None of that was worth bringing attention to the fact that I live here.” I narrowed my eyes. “I assume you won’t tell anyone—outside of the friend that came with you the other day.”
“I won’t.” She shook her head back and forth. “I made a terrible mistake.”
“How did you find my house anyway?” I folded my arms across my chest. “Thi
s isn’t an area that is well traveled.”
“That’s—a story that’s even worse than this one,” she sighed.
“Why don’t you tell me over some tea?” I motioned to the living room. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a guest. I wouldn’t mind the company…”
Except avoiding interactions with everyone unless absolutely necessary was the whole reason I chose isolation. Why did I ask her to stay?
“Are you sure?” She lifted her head.
“I’m very interested in hearing how you found my house,” I growled under my breath. “You owe me that much at least—I would prefer not to have any more surprises.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“Please wait in the living room.” I walked towards the kitchen and filled my teapot with water.
There was a part of me that really did want to know how she found my house, but I knew there was more to it than that—I was struggling to take my eyes off her. My desires were in overdrive, like they were trying to make up for all the years they had been dormant. I wanted to know more about her, and I didn’t want her to go. I might as well have been juggling hot embers and begging not to be burned. A girl that was willing to steal—even if she was a vision of loveliness—couldn’t be trusted. I had to keep my secrets to myself, outside of the one she already knew—that I was a beast living in isolation. It was certainly a secret I didn’t want exposed, but that was all she could know—she couldn’t find out who the man behind the grotesque visage used to be. That information was more valuable than all of the jewels in my house.
“Here you go.” I walked into the living room, put down the tray, and poured two cups of tea.
“Thank you.” She smiled and leaned forward to pick hers up.
“So—what is your name?” I sat down across from her and reached for my tea.
“My name is Anabelle.” She sipped her tea. “Most people call me Ana.”
“Ana or Anabelle. I like Anabelle better.” I raised a furrowed brow.
That feels so good on my lips—like I was meant to say it—often.
“What’s your name?” She sipped her tea and looked over at me.
“Adam.” I leaned back in my chair. “It’s my name, and that’s what people call me.”
Or called me—once upon a time.
“Have you been living here long?” She looked around the mansion.
“A number of years.” I nodded. “Completely undisturbed until you came along—so why don’t you tell me how you found my house?”
“I got lost in the woods.” She sighed and sipped her tea. “I live nearby.”
“Impossible. There’s nothing for miles around.” I shook my head back and forth. “If you’re not going to tell me the truth, then you should just go.”
“It’s not a lie.” She snapped her head back. “Maybe nearby means something different to me than it does to you—it’s not a quick stroll by any means, but I got turned around somehow when I was trying to find my way home and ended up on your road…”
It doesn’t sound like she’s lying, but she was quite a ways off the beaten path if she wandered into the vicinity of my estate from the woods…
“Okay, then why were you in the woods?” I narrowed my eyes.
“I was just walking…” she sighed.
Now that does sound like a lie.
“That’s all? Just walking?” I took a sip of my tea.
“No, that’s not the whole truth. I guess if you’re not going to call the police…” She lifted her tea and took a quick sip. “My friend and I were trying to rob a convenience store—the cops were after us.”
“Is that how you survive?” I tilted my head to the side. “Thievery?”
“I’m obviously not very good at thievery—I didn’t get a dime from the convenience store, and I returned what I took from you.” She looked down like she was trying to stare a hole in her teacup instead of make eye contact.
“You will get caught eventually. Even the best thieves don’t get away with it forever.” I tilted my head in the opposite direction. “Is your life so bad that it’s worth risking prison just for—money?”
“It is for some people,” she sighed. “I’m an orphan. My parents died when I was really young, and I’ve been in foster care since then. They kick you out when you turn eighteen unless you have a job or you’re in college—and I recently hit my expiration date.”
“Eighteen is old enough to work, is it not?” I sipped my tea.
In the world I grew up in, a beautiful orphan would have easily landed a husband by eighteen, but things are different here…
“Yes, I’m old enough to work.” She nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. If I had a job, I would need a way to get to work every day—and I don’t even know if I will be placed with a family that lives close to public transportation…”
“You drove here today.” I raised an eyebrow.
“I borrowed my foster mother’s car—and she is probably wondering where I am right about now,” she sighed. “I really should be going.”
I don’t want her to go… fuck. Why am I drawn to her like this?
“Will you come back?” I leaned forward and put down my teacup. “How about tomorrow? We could have tea and talk a little more.”
“I…” She blinked a couple of times. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Why?” I folded my arms across my chest. “Do I scare you?”
“No—that’s not it.” She sighed again. “I don’t know if I will be able to borrow the car and it’s a really long walk.”
“Then I will arrange for a car. I think I have a pen and paper around here somewhere—you can give me your address.” I stood up and looked around.
“You really want me to come back?” There was hesitation in her words. “After I stole from you?”
It’s the only thing I’ve wanted in ten years that can actually happen…
“You intrigue me.” I put a pen and paper down in front of her. “You could have walked away with everything you took, but you came back—I think you’re more than just a common thief.”
“I don’t feel like it…” She picked up the pen and wrote down her address.
“Maybe I just want someone to talk to.” I shrugged and sat down across from her.
“Will you tell me more about that if I come back—about why you’re living in this old mansion all by yourself?” She put down the pen and stood.
“Perhaps…” I nodded.
I watched as she walked to the door—she looked back at me one last time before she left. I could see curiosity in her eyes. I knew she would return. Whatever strange connection that I felt—I sensed that she could feel it too—or maybe she just saw a broken down beast that had been lonely for far too long. Once she was gone, I made a call to the only man in America who knew who I really was—a man who was well compensated to keep my secret so that I could live in isolation. I told him what I wanted, and he agreed to arrange it. He had questions, but I didn’t answer them. I wasn’t even sure what the answers were. My eyes drifted to the pocket watch on the table, and for some reason, I didn’t feel a surge of guilt like I expected—I felt oddly at peace for the first time in ten years.
Is it possible for this curse to be broken, or am I just fooling myself?
Seven
Anabelle
The beast had a name—Adam—and he really wasn’t a beast. He was just a man who was living in isolation for some reason. There were a million reasons why he could have chosen that life, and I was curious to know what drove him to live out his life without any form of companionship. He was obviously wealthy. The mansion might have been old and rundown on the outside, but the inside had been modernized—not to mention the fact that he had jewelry laying around worth tens of thousands of dollars—possibly more. It wouldn’t have taken much to convince me to go back, because my curiosity was definitely piqued.
What would drive a man to put the world in the rear-view mirror and never look back—o
r enjoy the wealth that he obviously has. There has to be more to the story.
“Anabelle, where the hell have you been?” My foster mother came charging into the kitchen the moment I opened the door.
“I’m sorry…” I handed her the keys. “I got sidetracked.”
“Sidetracked!? You’ve been gone for—you know what. Forget it.” She threw her hands up and walked away.
She’s definitely given up on me—oh well, I guess it’s for the best.
* * *
The next day
I went to bed with questions about Adam in my thoughts and still had them when I woke up. I had breakfast with my foster parents, but they didn’t say much. They didn’t even say anything corny when I forgot to keep my elbows off the table while I ate. I realized after breakfast that I really had no idea when Adam was going to send a car for me—which meant I needed to be able to leave at a moments notice. Around noon, there was a knock at the door. I wanted to answer it myself, but that wasn’t protocol in the Smith household. Mr. Smith answered it if he was home, and he was, so I waited in the hallway.
“Anabelle, someone is looking for you!” He yelled loud enough for me to hear him if I was in my room, but I was around the corner in a flash.
“Thank you.” I smiled and walked to the door.
“He won’t tell me what it’s about.” Mr. Smith eyed me suspiciously.
“It’s okay. I’m expecting him.” I brushed past my foster father and stepped outside.
“Are you Anabelle?” A thin gentleman in a collared shirt held up a clipboard.
“I am.” I nodded. “Are you my driver?”
“Driver?” He blinked in confusion. “No, I’m just delivering the car. Sign here please…”
“Delivering…” I looked towards the driveway and saw what appeared to be a brand new BMW, and another car idling in the street with a BMW of Los Angeles logo on the side. “Wait, I’m sorry—what?”
Beast Daddy: Once Upon A Daddy Page 4