Chapter 2
Aribelle slammed the car door and walked on the concrete to her ground floor apartment. The orange pumpkin lights the neighbor put out each Halloween cast an eerie glow on the sidewalk. She unlocked the door and flipped on the light. She half expected to see her father sitting at the kitchen table, working on the puzzle that she hadn’t had the heart yet to clean up. “Almost done, Belle,” he’d say, even if he’d just put the pieces out. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she tossed her purse and keys on the end table.
She walked past the table and opened the refrigerator. Why was she looking in there? She wasn’t even that hungry. Scanning the contents, but not really seeing anything, she couldn’t quite get Thaddeus out of her head.
He was cranky and rude, and quite possibly the most horrible person she’d ever met. She didn’t want to ever go back, but what else would she do? She had begged them to give her the job, and she was going to quit after the first day? Accelerated Employment would never give her another job if she did that.
She exhaled and shut the door to the fridge. No matter what she did, she’d lose. Quitting would mean having to move out of her apartment and into…where? But going back would mean facing that awful man. He was openly contemptuous. How could she work there day after day?
She went into the living room and plopped down on the couch, exhaling. She picked up the book on her end table. Maybe pulling herself into a good story would make her forget about her horrible employer.
Thaddeus tugged the bandage off and examined the wound. The back of his hand had been sliced from the pinky finger to his thumb, but now all that remained was a fresh scar. It didn’t hurt. Only an ugly reminder of who he was, and what he’d done. He flexed his fingers and scowled. He should know better than to get involved in a knife fight. Should have let them stab each other to death. Nothing good ever came from getting involved with drunks with weapons.
As he slipped into his jeans, thoughts of the girl came unbidden. He had expressly asked for no women under the age of fifty. How hard could that simple request be? Was it too much to ask?
No matter. He’d been awful enough to her, she probably wouldn’t ever come back. The thought saddened him for a brief moment before he shoved it deep into his gut. He couldn’t afford to be sad over it. He wouldn’t let himself.
He grabbed a clean T-shirt and pulled it on. His ribs didn’t even ache anymore. The only plus to his situation. At least the pain didn’t last long.
He sprinted down the stairs and went into the kitchen and stopped. He’d never seen it so clean. All of the dirty dishes were washed and put away. The floor had been mopped. The girl had even put his fruit in a bowl and set it on the counter. It looked like a kitchen from a magazine.
Figures. He finally found someone who wasn’t afraid of a little work, and he had to go off on her like the monster he was. Just great. He blew out a breath. No matter. He didn’t deserve her, anyway.
He reached up and pulled a bowl from the cupboard. She was pretty. More beautiful than most. Long, dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. Bright, chocolate brown eyes. Wait, why was he thinking about her again? She wasn’t coming back. He’d been so mean. He’d had others quit for much less. Why torture himself over it? He’d never see her again. And that was for the best.
Aribelle awoke early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so she finally rolled out of bed and took a shower. Indecision plagued her. Should she call Accelerated Employment and quit? Or should she show up at Mr. Crabby’s house at nine o’clock? She wasn’t sure what she was going to do right up until the moment when she grabbed her keys and purse and headed out.
Before she reached her car, she saw someone walking across the parking lot. Strutting, actually, like a peacock. She hid her head behind her purse and hoped he didn’t see her. His name was Gavin and he lived in the complex next to hers. Every time she saw him he would make some annoying pass at her. He thought he was irresistible. She tried to be polite, but he was kind of a dumb brute, and maybe she needed to get more forceful.
Gavin kept walking, and Aribelle was able to slip into her vehicle unnoticed. “Good morning,” she said as she forced her car to wake up. Even it didn’t want to go back there.
As she drove to Carson, she mulled over what she would say to the man. Should she apologize? Or just show up and act like none of it had happened? Neither option felt right, but she leaned toward simply doing her job and not dwelling on his rudeness.
The crisp autumn air felt good and she cracked the window even more. The leaves were starting to turn beautiful fall colors, bright orange and red. Mr. Walker was lucky to live in such a wooded area. In a week or two, the whole forest surrounding his home would be brilliant.
She pulled into his drive right at nine and shut off her engine. The stone house seemed even more unwelcoming than it had the day before. She steeled herself and walked up to the door. He couldn’t be any worse than he was yesterday, right? She knocked and took a step back.
No one came to the door. “Mr. Walker?” she asked as she knocked again. “It’s me, Aribelle.”
Still no answer. She strained to listen for footsteps, or for any sound at all. Nothing.
In the distance, she heard the quiet hum of a motorcycle. The noise grew louder and louder until she was sure it was coming up the long driveway. A second later, Thaddeus appeared. He rode his bike up to the house and cut the engine. A black helmet covered his face. He kicked the stand down and dismounted the motorcycle. He wore tight jeans and a leather jacket, and she wondered how she ever thought he was an old man.
He pulled off his helmet and started up the walk, pausing when he noticed her car. He turned in her direction, and she met his gaze. A cut above his left eye was oozing blood. He’d hurt himself again.
For a brief moment he stared at her, then he lowered his head and walked past her into the house without saying a word.
She took that as consent to come in and followed him inside. “Where would you like me to start today?”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Upstairs. Start in the back bedroom. There’s a broom in the closet.” He motioned with his hand, which was covered in blood. Too much blood to be from the cut on his head. He was bleeding somewhere else.
She gaped at his hand but didn’t say anything. She had learned her lesson. “Okay.”
With shaky legs, she climbed the stairs. What was wrong with this man? What was he out doing, and why was he hurt again? Was he insane?
She pulled the broom and dustpan out of the closet and went into the back room, as he had suggested. The upstairs rooms were spacious and filled with antiques. The floors were hardwood, the dark kind that looked aged. She wondered when this house was built. The home felt like it had been passed down from generation to generation, with large paintings of stately people on the walls. Some of them appeared to be quite old, maybe brought over from another country.
As she cleaned, she counted the rooms. Four bedrooms and four bathrooms. The master bedroom was obviously Thaddeus’s room. His clothes were strewn about, but the bed didn’t look like he’d slept in it for quite some time. Where did he usually sleep, in the recliner?
One of the rooms upstairs was an office. What did he do for a living? Must be something he could do from home. But as messy as he left the other rooms in the house, his office was eerily neat. No papers were strewn around the room. Nothing on the desk other than a computer monitor and keyboard. They looked brand new.
She finished sweeping and returned the broom to the closet. After dusting all the upstairs rooms, she went into his bedroom and picked up his clothes and put them in the overflowing hamper. She grabbed it and lugged it down the steep stairs. She found the laundry room and started sorting the clothes.
She imagined she was Cinderella, doing the work her evil stepmother forced upon her. It made her smile to think that someday she’d
find a Prince Charming and leave this dreary life behind.
Thaddeus appeared in the doorway. The cut on his forehead had been cleaned up and he’d washed the blood from his hand. He glared at her. “Did I tell you to do the laundry?”
Man, he was worse than an evil stepmother. She swallowed a retort and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I just thought—”
“You’re not here to think. You’re here to do what I tell you.”
His words stung, and she blinked back the gathering tears. She would not cry in front of him, no matter how mean he was to her. She squared her shoulders and stared into his eyes. “What would you like me to do?”
His gaze fell to the floor, and it almost looked like he was ashamed for how he had spoken to her. “You can make lunch.”
She nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “What would you like?”
He turned his back to her. “Make whatever you want.”
When he was gone, she marched into the pantry and opened up the cupboards. After rummaging for a minute, she pulled out a container of Kung Pao noodles and sauce that boasted it could be ready in two minutes. She knew she could handle that. If he wanted anything fancy, he was out of luck.
She made the meal and dished it out onto a plate. She set it on the dining room table with a fork and then went to find Mr. Walker. He was back in his recliner. “Your lunch is ready, sir.”
He nodded and attempted to right his chair, only it looked like he was in too much pain to move the lever. Her first thought was to rush to his side and help him, but she remembered the last time she’d done that and refrained. He used too much force and the footrest slammed down.
He stood, winced, and walked to the table. After he was seated, she asked, “What would you like to drink?”
“Water is fine,” he said without looking up, that blasted hoodie covering his head again.
“Sure,” she said, turning toward the kitchen.
When she set his glass down in front of him, he peered up at her. “You didn’t make enough for yourself? What are you going to eat?”
The question almost made her gape at him, and she forced herself to not look startled. “I was going to eat the lunch I brought. In my car.” She motioned toward the door.
“Well bring it in here. Seems stupid to have you eat out in your car.” He put his head back down.
Was he really suggesting they eat lunch together? What a ludicrous thought. But she couldn’t refuse him. He might blow up again. “All right.”
Aribelle walked out to her car and grabbed her sack lunch from the cooler. This was going to be quite awkward. She placed the lunch on the other side of the table and sat down, her chair scraping the floor in loud protest.
He nodded and picked up his fork. She guessed that meant it was time to eat. She took the contents out of her sack and placed them on the table. One orange, a ham sandwich, a baggie with two Oreo cookies, and a juice pouch.
Thaddeus stopped, his fork frozen in mid-air. “That’s your lunch?”
She bristled. “Yes.”
He set his fork down with a clank and for a moment she thought he was going to yell at her. But instead, his shoulders started shaking and she realized he was laughing. Soon his chuckles became audible, and she frowned.
“What’s so funny?”
He pointed at her food with his bandaged hand, still shaking with laughter. “You eat like a six-year-old,” he managed to say.
Her mouth fell open in shock. No words would come out at first. Was he making fun of her sack lunch? But soon his laughter filled the room and she couldn’t help but smile. It was a little funny, she supposed. A grown woman drinking from a juice pouch.
His mouth cracked into a huge grin, his laughter deep and contagious. As she stared at him, she realized he was a handsome man. Yes, he was covered in scars, but if she looked past them, she could see he was good-looking.
“I needed something I could bring with me,” she said, her own giggles coming out now.
After Thaddeus stopped laughing, he said, “You don’t have to bring a lunch. You can eat whatever I have.”
She sobered. This was the first semi-kind thing he had said to her. She stared at him, his gaze softening as he looked back.
“Okay,” she said, her shoulders relaxing.
He gave her a small smile and then turned back to his food.
She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. Maybe working for him wasn’t going to be as horrible as she had first thought.
Chapter 3
Thaddeus sat back down on his recliner and glowered at the blank television screen. Why had he done that? Told the girl to bring her lunch in and eat with him? That had been his first mistake. No. He was wrong. His first mistake was letting her in the door at all. And now she was smiling and laughing. What a mess he was creating.
He couldn’t form any kind of relationship with her. He was crazy if he thought he could. She couldn’t be anything more than just his housekeeper. And even that wasn’t a good idea. He preferred the old ladies the agency sent. They couldn’t see well and didn’t care that much about his appearance. They didn’t notice much.
He reclined back and closed his eyes. He should have gone to sleep right after letting her in, instead of waiting to catch a glimpse of her. He knew better. Allowing her into his life would only complicate things. He had to keep a distance.
Sleep finally took him, and when he awoke it was dark outside. He walked over to the window, confirming what he suspected. She was gone.
Good. He probably should fire her tomorrow and call the agency to chew them out for sending her. Even as the thought formed in his head, he knew he wouldn’t do it. He was already looking forward to seeing her again.
Her laugh rang through this head, a happy sound. She had guts, and he liked that. She wasn’t afraid to confront him, wasn’t scared off by the way he’d yelled at her yesterday.
Guilt cut through him and he wished he could do yesterday over. He would control himself better. Unfortunately, self-control was not one of his strong suits.
He climbed the stairs to shower and get ready for the night. An hour later, the wind whipped past him as he sped down the highway, listening. A woman’s scream tore through the quiet night and he increased his speed. When he found her, she was lying unconscious in an alley. He looked for whoever might have done this to her, but no one else was in sight. Probably a mugger. Maybe she’d put up a fight. He knelt beside her to look at the damage and sucked in a breath. It was worse than he’d thought. Someone had beaten her until she was a bloody mess.
Aribelle stood on Thaddeus’s doorstep, waiting once again for him to answer. Was he even home? She peeked to the side of the house and saw his motorcycle. Yep. He was home. She pounded again. What was taking him so long?
The door opened and she froze. Thaddeus could barely stand. His leather jacket’s hood was down, revealing a cracked lip and puffy purple bruises where his cheeks used to be. One eye was swollen shut. Dried blood covered most of his face. It looked like someone had beaten him with a baseball bat. She gasped and rushed to help him stand. “What happened?”
“Leave me alone,” he mumbled, but it had no force to it. His one good eye rolled back into his head and she struggled to keep him from falling over.
Somehow, she managed to get him over to the couch, and she eased him down onto it. Her heart pounded as she wondered what she should do. Who had done this to him? Did he get in a bar fight last night? Was that how he hurt himself before?
She ran to the bathroom to get a wet cloth. What was going on? Who was hurting this man? She held the washcloth under cold water and then wrung it out. She rushed back into the living room and knelt down by the couch.
He moaned as she wiped the blood from his face. “Stop.”
His injuries looked worse as she tried to clean them. “I think I n
eed to take you to the hospital.”
His eyes flickered open and a panicked look crossed his face. “No.”
“But you’re—”
“I’ll be fine. Stop interfering.” He snatched the washcloth from her and pressed it to his split lip. “If you can’t just do your job, I’ll find someone else.” He closed his eyes again.
She wanted to yell in frustration. Why was he so stubborn? And what was happening to him? She stood and turned on her heel. “Fine. I’ll leave you be.”
“You can start with the laundry,” he said, his voice muffled by the cloth.
Seriously? She wanted to tell him where he could stuff his laundry, but remembering her rent, she bit that back. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists and walked out of the room. If he was going to be this way, there wasn’t anything she could do about it. He was a callous, hostile man. Any pain he caused himself was his own business.
She busied herself with the laundry, taking a lunch break around noon. As she ate, she thought about her employer. She could tell a lot about a person by what he had in his home. Thaddeus’s home was filled with antiques, pieces passed down from generation to generation. They were carefully taken care of. Family paintings and portraits hung on the walls. He valued family, yet there were no recent photos of anyone, which told her he was alone in the world.
Like her.
She stood, unable to keep with that train of thought. She needed to check on him. He was asleep on the couch. When the laundry was done and put away she cleaned the windows. After finishing the second floor, she started in on the main floor. She crossed the living room and opened a door that had always been closed. She gasped. The walls were filled with books. Hundreds of them. A library!
Falling for the Beast Page 2