Filthy Beast (Filthy Fairy Tales #1)

by Vanessa Booke

  “Yeah, he said he liked my worth ethic. I think he just liked that I picked up his work. I know it looks bad, but I’ve actually really enjoyed working on Declan’s novels. They give me a much-needed escape.

  “Is that why you were up here?” She smiles.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “You’re probably not used to not having anything to do. I have an idea. Why don’t you go for a swim in the morning, dear?”

  A bubble of hope fills my chest.

  “I would like that.”

  Adele leaves me, as she heads back to what I can only assume is her room. It isn’t until my mind quiets in the still of the night that I remember Declan’s security cameras on his computer. My eyes search the room, but I don’t find any obvious piece of equipment. Wherever he’s hidden it, it’s in an obscure location. I lie back on the comfy satin sheets of my bed, and as I drift into sleep, a lingering thought floats through my mind, enveloping me in a delicious thought.

  Is he watching right now?

  6

  DECLAN

  I glance at the clock. It’s just after noon, and I’ve only written a grand total of six words. If the words aren’t out by now, they’re not getting out. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. It’s longer than I remember it being—which should be no surprise considering I refuse to leave the house to see a barber, and Adele’s haircutting skills leave something to be desired. I stopped letting her cut my hair after the first time when she nicked my ears with the shears. My hair hits just below my chin now.

  I check the clock again, then at the mostly blank document on my computer screen. I’m just about to try diving back in when I spot a teal blur on the screen to my left. The security cameras I set up around the house were originally just that, security cameras. Now, my whole world is seen through this grainy screen. I watch as my curvy houseguest walks toward the pool in a teal bathing suit that leaves me with a hard on the size of a tent pole.

  The all too seductive material pops against her sun-kissed skin and chestnut curls. A foreign flutter fills my stomach as she sits on one of the foldout chairs with the copy of Jane Eyre in her hands. I have a fond appreciation for the classics. I’ve always identified with Mr. Rochester. He always felt chained to his psychotic wife because of their marriage, and I think I’ll always feel chained to the scars on my face. Never free to break the hold that my appearance has on me. Perhaps I never will be. Frustrated, I busy myself answering emails, and after an hour or so, I barely notice any movement from Ms. Evans on the screens.

  It’s almost one when I finally finish reviewing a sequence from my novel. Anxious for a break, my gaze moves back and forth across the screen searching for another peek at Ms. Evans. It isn’t until I see her face down in the pool that panic rips through my chest. Fuck.

  “ADELE!” I roar.

  My legs are moving before I have a chance to think. In a blur, I race barefoot down the spiral staircase and toward the pool outside. My whole body shakes as adrenaline courses through me. I burst past the glass doors heaving with anxiety. She hasn’t moved since I saw her floating on the screen. Without thinking, I leap into the pool still fully clothed in my dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt. The water hits my skin, instantly cooling my fevered body. I reach out and grab her, pulling her body up.

  It isn’t until I feel her wrench herself from my arms that I realize I’ve made a mistake.

  “Holy shit!” she screams.

  Her body stills as she wades in the pool and her gaze widens at the sight of me. Shame immediately fills me as she studies my face. Words escape me as I float in the pool feeling the weight of my jeans dragging me down.

  What must she think of me? I’m just some monster trying to save her.

  What the hell was she doing anyway? Anger seeps into my chest as I will my body to control the fire I feel nipping at me. My gaze falls on the curve of her breasts. A familiar ache fills me as my gaze rakes over her.

  Why the hell is she wearing that bathing suit?

  It takes all of my self-will not to tear it off her. If she knew the filthy things I want to do to her right now, she’d understand why they call me a beast.

  7

  OLIVIA

  He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. My eyes stray to the firm chest draped in a soaking wet black tee. A ripple of muscle lines his taut physique. My body tightens at the sight of his. A pair of blue eyes accentuates his high cheekbones and the hard jaw line peppered in gray. To my surprise¸ his lips are set in a firm scowl.

  What? Why the hell is he mad at me? It isn’t until he turns his head to the side that something catches my attention. I step closer to find several ridges on his neck where old skin has healed.

  “What are you staring at?” he growls

  The sound is so foreign that I’m not even sure it’s human.

  “I, uh…” I blurt, stupidly.

  “Don’t you fucking know how to swim? I thought you were drowning.”

  His words are cold despite the heat that seems to radiate off him. My cheeks flame in embarrassment. Here I am, helping myself to his pool without even asking. I’m not even sure if this portion of the house is restricted.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t...”

  I’m finally face-to-face with the great Declan Hart, and the reality is better than I could have imagined. Adele mentioned Declan having a disability, but I was expecting something entirely different. The right side of his face and neck as well as the top of his arm is covered in shiny, puckered scars, the skin silvery-gray. At a closer glance, I spot a small bare spot on his eyebrow.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to stare?”

  The words drop like an atom bomb of anger. Despite the heat behind Declan’s eyes, there’s a strange look of curiosity. His gaze flickers over my bathing suit. For a brief moment, I spot a ghost of a smile. I look down embarrassingly aware that my nipples are hard. His gaze wanders up the skin-tight fabric. It’s difficult to hide my attraction to him, and part of me doesn’t want to. My cheeks blush at the wicked thought of what my client must look like naked. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to be this good looking.

  “Is that the only bathing suit you have?” he asks with a curt tone.

  “What?”

  I look at him in confusion. Only bathing suit I have? How many does someone need? Wait. Why are we talking about my bathing suit? A look of vulnerability crosses his face as he swims closer toward me. My body responds with a shiver that almost goes undetected.

  Almost. His heated stare sets my body on fire despite the cool water surrounding me. Without thinking, I reach out and trace the rigid skin along his neck. I shouldn’t be touching him. Why am I touching him? And why is he letting me? Surprise fills me as he groans at my touch.

  One moment, he’s several feet away from me, and the next, he’s crushing me against the side of the pool. His hands cradle my face as he leans in and captures my mouth. My body obeys as his tongue commands my lips to open. I practically purr as his hand drops to my breasts and his knuckles graze them. It’s been a long time since someone’s touched me like this. God knows I never imagined being in this position with Declan Hart. The man I’ve fantasized meeting for the past two years.

  My thoughts are running a million miles per second as caution is thrown to the wind. My hands eagerly reach down and unbuckle his belt. His jeans are halfway undone when he breaks away, pulling the only warmth in the pool with him. I shiver again, but this time, it isn’t from anticipation. Declan’s chest heaves and his eyes burn with heat as he catches his breath.

  “They’re not paying you to pity-fuck me.”

  My jaw drops at the bitterness in his words.

  Excuse me?” I say, aiming for steely. But my voice shakes.

  You will not cry, I tell myself sternly.

  He smirks. “I mean really, look at you.”

  I turn my head, trying to take a deep breath and calm down before I burst into tears. I catch a look at my re
flection in the pool water. My ratty bathing suit has slipped down off one shoulder, and my wet hair makes me look like a wet rat. Even worse is the fact my insecurities have me thinking the worst. Of course, he finds me unattractive. I have a generous amount of meat on my bones, and he looks like he practically lives in a gym.

  “Just what do you mean by that?” I ask, clipping my anger back.

  He chuckles a cold, merciless sound. His whole demeanor seems off somehow. Wrong. “Really, Ms. Evans. Did you think I’d want you? Look at you,” he repeats.

  Then he steps back, giving me a better look at his gorgeous abs and the dip of his V that promises a delicious roll between the sheets. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was shooting the next cover for Men’s Health. I close my eyes, willing the tears away. I’m not hurt. Not yet. No, I’m angry. Livid, even. Declan Hart—the man I’ve fantasized about for too long now, is an absolute dick.

  “You know what I see? A Beast,” I say, emphasizing on the last word.

  He flinches, but I plow on. “Not because of how you look, but for the simple fact that you’re a complete asshole.” His eyes close, and I take a deep breath before continuing. “For your information, my boss didn’t send me here to fuck you. I was sent to help you finish your book.”

  His eyes snap open, and the look of them haunts me. It’s sad and angry and hopeful all at once. But disappointment and betrayal course through my veins, sharp and bitter. I won’t be swayed by his remorse. It’s a little too late.

  “But now, I understand... You don’t fucking deserve my help.”

  Whether I like it or not, his stricken expression guts me. I watch as Declan opens his mouth to speak, but quickly closes it. Before I have a chance to say another word, he turns and leaves wading his way across the pool. My heart hammers against my chest as I sink deeper into the water, letting my whole body become engulfed. My head spins as my thoughts race to make sense of what just happened. One second, I was enjoying the cool temperature of the pool on my face, and then next, I was dealing with the fact that Declan Hart is not the man I thought he was.

  8

  OLIVIA

  “Declan Michael Hart, what in God’s name did you say to that poor girl?” The anger in Adele’s voice stuns me as I step back from the suitcase of clothes I’ve spent the past hour repacking.

  Since I’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve heard Adele so much as raise her voice an octave higher. It’s both surprising and encouraging to hear someone else standing up for me. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, and the circles under my eyes are the hard evidence of just how much Declan’s words affected me. I shouldn’t be surprised, right? It isn’t the first time his words have turned my world upside down. It’s just, this time, they were actually directed at me. I didn’t dream him up. I’m with him here inside this majestic mansion, but it’s suffocating. Declan Hart isn’t the man I thought he was. I built him up to be this God, but he’s just a man. A deeply broken one at that.

  Despite how massive Declan’s mansion is, Adele’s voice carries all the way up the marble stairs and into the opulent guest room where I’ve been staying. Curiosity gets the better of me as I make my way down the spiraling staircase and to the kitchen. I pause outside the door opening, shamelessly eavesdropping. I almost smile as I listen to Adele lay into Declan, but I can’t quite muster a full grin. The memories of last night still plague me. It kills me to say that Declan, hands down, is the sexiest human being I’ve ever seen, and there’s no denying I’ve had a book crush on him. He’s up there with all of my fictional boyfriends. Except he’s real. A real asshole.

  And like a fool, I threw myself at him, only to have him reject me in the cruelest way imaginable. I have a pretty healthy dose of self-esteem, most of the time. It’s not easy being a big girl in today’s world, but I do it with as much confidence as I can, but I’ve never actually had a man reject me as he did. Especially not a man like him, someone I’ve adored from afar for so long. I know, on some level, what happened last night probably wasn’t even about me. He’s obviously carrying around a lot of pain, a lot of issues from the way he looks, and if I had to guess, how he got that way, too. But it still hurt to have him look at me with such disdain, to hear the derision in his voice when he silently compared the two of us.

  So while I don’t give up on challenges easily, I’m also not a masochist.

  Inside the kitchen, I hear Declan heave a dramatic sigh. “It’s not my fault.”

  Adele tuts. “I know. It’s never your fault. Always shift the blame onto someone else.”

  I can practically hear the eye roll in her voice. Guilt hits me as I peek through the crack of the door to see the look of contempt written all over Adele’s face. From the moment she found me crying in the library, she knew exactly what had happened with Declan. Not all the details, but the fact that it was his fault. I didn’t even have to explain the situation to her. Adele immediately jumped to my defense with a motherly fierceness that still surprises me. I almost feel sorry for Declan. Adele is a total firecracker, and she definitely looks like she’s ready to explode now.

  A strange noise that almost sounds like a growl escapes Declan as he leans over the kitchen island and pounds his fist into the marble counter.

  “And why the hell was she in the pool? I warned you about her wandering the house.”

  “What do you expect her to do all day?” she asks. “Sit in the room like one of your caged little birds?”

  “I didn’t ask her to be here, Adele.”

  I cringe. I don’t want to hear anymore. I step into the kitchen, clearing my throat. Two heads swivel in my direction. Adele looks up half furious, half apologetic. I know the latter is for me. As much as I don’t want to look over at Declan, I can’t help but do exactly that. My eyes take in his rugged appearance, including the top two undone buttons of his flannel shirt. I bite my lip at the sight of dark curls that sit on his chest just below his collarbone. Our eyes meet briefly before his gaze wanders over me. His expression is unreadable, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing his bloodshot eyes and the tight lines around his mouth. From the look of it, he didn’t get much sleep last night either. Maybe he feels bad for acting like an ass. Not likely.

  My gaze swings up from his eyes to his hair sticking slightly to one side. I wish it made him look ugly, but let’s be honest—it doesn’t. In the light of day, he’s even more gorgeous, even with—or if I’m being honest, because of the scars. God, he looks good enough to lick. Stop it, Olivia. He’s the asshole who had you in tears only hours ago. Don’t be such a Mary Jane. I don’t want to be like those girls you read about. They let assholes walk all over them just because they’re hot. No, that is not happening. I will not be cliché. I give myself a mental headshake. Not now. Not ever.

  I just need to say goodbye and get the hell out of here. I know Adele’s watching me, but it doesn’t stop me from giving Declan one last lingering glance. I burn the image of him in my mind, knowing it might be the last opportunity I’ll ever have.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’m going back to New York so we can all get on with our lives.”

  Adele practically slams her coffee cup down on the counter as she glares at Declan with anger. The blank gaze on his face gives away nothing. He probably doesn’t give a shit. His cool blue eyes assess me as if trying to call my bluff. But I’m not bluffing. I have a red eye booked to New York tonight. It took a chunk of what little savings I had, but I’ll need the head start on my job search before the end of the month.

  “You’ll lose your job!” Adele says with an exasperated look on her face. The lines of worry on her face deepen as I shrug my shoulders. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand at the sight of her distressed expression. Seeing Adele upset bothers me more than I wish it did. I can’t get attached to her. This is a job. She’s not my mother, even if she reminds me of her in so many ways.

  “I think it would be better if Mr. Hart worked with someone else.”

  Ade
le narrows her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to leave because of someone else’s behavior.”

  Her words are a not so subtle hint at her employer. A smile threatens to escape my lips as Declan shoots her a glare. It’s good to know that someone gives him a run for his money.

  “If she wants to go, she can go. We shouldn’t stop her,” he says, scanning something on his computer.

  Adele brushes past him with a tray of cookies and heads toward me. Declan reaches out to snatch one, but she tilts the tray just out of his reach.

  “Don’t be a beast, Declan. You need her just as much as she needs you.”

  Declan looks at her with a look of confusion. I don’t think he’s used to needing anyone, let alone me. I blush as I mull over her words, all too aware that Adele knows I’ve been the one working on his novels. Although he thinks Richard is the mind behind all the edits, the truth is it’s really me. Declan turns his blue gaze to me and for a moment, I’m almost sure the memory of last night flashes in both of our minds. The electricity that sparked between us is not something you can easily forget. For a moment, I feel heat race up my spine, but it’s quickly extinguished at the memory of Declan’s scowl and the ugliness of his words.

  “I’m sure Mr. Hart will be fine working with Richard exclusively from now on,” I say, turning my focus on Adele.

  “Yes, but he’s not the one who’s been editing Declan’s books for the past few years,” Adele says, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

  Embarrassment overwhelms me as I fail to meet Declan’s hot gaze. I love what I do. Even if my client’s an asshole. Declan’s angry tone slices through our conversation.

  “What the fuck does she mean by that?”

  The words are like nails on a chalkboard. I cringe, silently willing him to forget every word Adele had just said.