Beauty and the Rose: a Beauty and the Rose Novel

by Black, Stasia

  “You look perfect,” I say. I grab her forearms. “You look fierce. Confident. You can do this.”

  But she’s shaking her head rapidly back and forth. “No, I can’t. I’m not like you. I’m not strong.”

  I barely keep in my laughter. Is she serious? Me, strong? Then again, maybe she’s right. Maybe strength is what it’s taken all these years to survive. And lately I’ve been determined not only to survive, but thrive.

  So maybe Rachel’s right, that does take strength. Incredible strength. And it’s okay if it took me a while to get here. Just like it’s okay that Rachel’s finally discovering that well within herself now.

  I move my hands to hers and squeeze hard. “You’ve got this. I know you do. You’re a total badass and now you’re going to go show the world that you won’t let anybody walk all over you. Because you deserve so much better.”

  She grins wide at me. “Fucking love you.”

  She hugs me hard, then pivots and walks out to the podium before I can even return the sentiment.

  Lights blaze and cameras flash as she reaches the podium and arranges her notes. Finally, she takes a drink of water from the glass that’s been set there and then begins.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming here tonight. My name is Rachel Simpson and three years ago, Adam Archer began blackmailing me in exchange for sex, corporate secrets, and more recently, in exchange for my cooperation in seducing, then later drugging and taking illegal photographs of his ex-fiancée Daphne Laurel.”

  There are audible gasps across the room but Rachel isn’t nearly done. “Furthermore, while in his acquaintance, I came across evidence that I was only one of many that Adam Archer was blackmailing. Other victims include—”

  And then I watch on from the sidelines like a proud mom as she goes on to list a long number of names, both public and private figures. Many of the names of public figures raise eyebrows, including that of New Olympus’ chief of police.

  The camera lights continue blazing, but half the reporters in the room are scribbling notes while others are on the phone, some even leaving the room to make calls.

  And I sit back and smile in satisfaction, knowing that finally Adam Archer’s life is about to be blown apart—an experience he’s inflicted on so many others.

  Karma is sweet.

  Twenty

  Logan

  The creak of an opening door rouses me from my foggy state. My eyes snap open. I’ve been lying here for I don’t know how long. Long enough for the light in the window to fade. Long enough for the dark to cover me. Long enough to sense when I’m no longer alone.

  “Who’s there?” My throat is screaming for water.

  “A friend.” A shadow detaches itself from the wall and drifts to the foot of my bed where it solidifies into the shape of a man. Tall and slender, clad in a tailored grey suit. “Relax. I’m here to rescue you.”

  Head bowed, he studies my restraints a moment, before reaching in his breast pocket and drawing out a Swiss Army knife. A few short moments and I’m free. My joints creak but I rip out the IV from my arm.

  ‘Thanks’ is on the tip of my tongue, but I have no idea what’s going on. As far as I know, this man could still be an enemy. A trap.

  “Who are you?” I have to squint into the shadows, where he’s retreated.

  “My name is Sebastian St. James.” His cultured voice, smooth and deep, winds its way into my ears. He half smiles as he returns to my side and offers me a bottle of water.

  “Never heard of you.” But I take the water and gulp it down.

  “I’ve taken great care to remain anonymous. I prefer it.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I own this building.”

  “Then you’re not a friend.” I drop the water bottle on the floor, wishing my strength was back. If I stand now, I don’t trust myself to remain upright. If I did, I’d wipe the floor with him.

  “I assure you, Dr. Wulfe, I am a friend.” He doesn’t back away from my glare, but steeples his fingers. “Allow me to start from the beginning. I own a great many things. An empire, built over many years.”

  “You don’t look that old to me,” I grunt. The man facing me with such a lack of fear is smooth-faced. Thirty at the most. Young to bear such an air of gravitas.

  “I started young. And I have many friends. It’s easy to amass the things you want when you’re willing to ally yourself with anyone who can help you get them.”

  “You made a deal with the devil.”

  “Some say that. Some say I am the devil.” His voice holds a note of amusement. “But that has nothing to do with the circumstances right now. Lately I’ve been interested in expanding my interests into the pharmaceutical realm. I acquired research by a brilliant young doctor, a prodigy of the late Dr. Laurel.”

  I shake my head. I know where this is going.

  “For a while now, I’ve been investigating Adam Archer. We even signed a temporary agreement for him to use my warehouse as a private research facility.”

  He spreads his hands to indicate our surroundings. “My own company provides security. Not only to secure the outside of the building, but to monitor the inner workings as well. Imagine my surprise when my secret cameras show a man being held against his will. And not just any man. A former friend, college roommate, and rival of Adam Archer.”

  He leans in. “And, if my research is correct, the real prodigy of Dr. Laurel. The one Adam Archer would do anything to destroy.”

  “All right,” I say drily. If I wasn’t still feeling weak and woozy, I’d be outta here. Since I need a moment to collect my strength, I’m okay with listening to this stranger’s soliloquy. “You figured it all out. Now what?”

  “We seem to have a common enemy. And common goals. I wish to expand my holdings into the pharmaceutical arena. You want the means and ability to continue your research—starting with the cure for Battleman’s. You have the knowledge, I have the labs. If we partner together, we could be behind the medical breakthroughs of this century.”

  He lowers his hands, his face taking on a wry expression, as if he’s amused by his own forthrightness. In the middle of his earnest speech, he looked much younger. “But that comes later. Let us address the matter at hand. Revenge.”

  “Yes,” I growl, unable to stop myself from showing my hand. St. James’ expression is perfectly blank. But I understand how he could be as powerful as he claims. If he’s able to speak to the heart of the matter, and offer a man exactly what he wants...he could easily rule an empire.

  “Anything,” I say, even though I suspect I’ll regret it. “I’ll give you anything to get me out of here and help me bring Adam down.”

  “Oh, haven’t you seen?” He turns away to pick up something—a remote—and points it at the wall. A screen comes down from the ceiling. St. James presses a few buttons and the TV flares to life.

  “—following accusations of their former CEO’s corporate espionage, insider trading, and sexual assault, Archer Industries stock falls by over thirty percent—”

  I watch opened-mouth as Adam Archer is led down a street lined with reporters. Adam himself is flanked by two police officers. His hands are cuffed behind his back.

  “What happened?”

  “A group of women stepped forward and brought Adam Archer’s sins to light. He’s been removed as CEO, of course, but it seems he’s run from the many charges filed against him. The police are looking for him.”

  St. James is studying my face but I can’t tear my gaze from the screen. The reporter is talking over images of the press conference that broke the news of Adam’s deceit. A vaguely familiar blonde woman is speaking. The camera pans and—yes, there’s Daphne in her wheelchair, watching. My brave girl.

  “Quite a woman,” St. James murmurs.

  I snap my attention from the screen.

  He raises his hands. “No need to glare. I understand she’s now your wife.”

  “Do they really
call you the devil?”

  “Yes,” he says simply. “Mostly in New Rome, my city. Not here. In New Olympus there are other, older powers.”

  “But you can help me.”

  “Oh yes.” And he smiles.

  “Well, then. Let’s make a deal.”

  Twenty-One

  Daphne

  My mother is beautiful as she walks beside me. Long flowing hair, healthy and shining in the bright summer sunshine.

  She reaches out and takes my hand. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”

  I stop her in front of the garden, roses blooming all around us. “Mama,” I cry, a rush of emotion hitting me, I don’t even know why. For some reason it feels like I haven’t seen her in a long time.

  I pull her into a hug, squeezing her close.

  “What’s got into you?” she asks, chuckling. She rubs my back anyway, just like she used to do when I was sick as a kid.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I say, tears bursting out of my eyes and running down my cheeks, even though I’m not certain where she’s been or why we’ve been separated, or why it’s so good to see her right now. To feel her solid in my arms.

  She pulls back from me and cups my face, swiping some stray hairs behind my ear. “You listen to me, Daphne Laurel, you are strong and beautiful and you can do anything in this life you set your mind to.”

  I nod, tears still streaking my cheeks. I hear what she’s saying and for the first time, deep in my bones, I believe it.

  Just then, the sun starts to set and Mom looks over her shoulder. Then she smiles gently back at me. “It’s almost time for me to go.”

  “No.” I shake my head and clutch onto her forearms. “I’m not ready. Just a little longer.”

  But her smile only gentles further as she pulls away from me. “My wonderful girl,” she whispers, giving my hand one last squeeze. “I always wished a love like no other for you, and that you’d live a beautiful life. With someone who could match your beautiful soul.”

  She beams at me. “I couldn’t have left you and been at peace knowing you’d be all alone in the world. But now I can.”

  “Mama,” I call, reaching for her as she backs away, but no matter what I do, she begins to vanish into sudden twilight, while I’m frozen in place.

  But it’s not scary or sad. It’s like what she said. She’s leaving now because she’s at peace and…

  It comes back to me like a whisper on the wind—it’s not your time yet. And I feel it in my bones. It’s not my time now. Maybe not for a long while yet. Maybe not for a whole lifetime.

  “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

  I jerk awake with a start. To Logan hovering above me on the bed.

  I screech and throw my arms around him. “How? How did you get out?”

  I wrap my legs around him too, for good measure. “Armand said he’d talk to Marcus but I didn’t think they could work this fast—”

  “It wasn’t Marcus or Armand. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you later. What’s important is,” his eyes are shining as he drags me up to a sitting position. “We got a lab. We can mass produce the Battleman’s serum.”

  I blink as he explicitly spells it out for me. “Daph, we have the cure. You’ll be cured. Not just of this latest relapse, but completely. We found the cure and we can manufacture it.”

  It’s not your time yet.

  Holy shit, Mom knew.

  Wait, that’s ridiculous, it was just a dream.

  But it felt so real.

  “Why aren’t you celebrating?” Logan’s exuberance immediately turns to concern. “You should be celebrating. Are you not feeling okay today? Did something happen while I was away? Fuck, have you not been keeping up with the recovery protocols? Dammit, Daph, you promised you wouldn’t slip no matter what happened to me—”

  I grab his hands to stop him from getting off the bed. “No, stop. I’ve been keeping up with all my treatments. Just give me a second.” I stare at him and then I start laughing. Oh my gosh, am I still dreaming or is this happening?

  “Pinch me.”

  A furrow appears between Logan’s brows. “What?”

  “Pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.”

  That’s all it takes. He pounces on me. “How about I do a lot more than pinch you?” he growls in my ear before dropping his lips and devouring my mouth. He nips my lips with his teeth. “This real enough for you?”

  I can only moan in response.

  “This real enough for you?” he slides a hand down from my neck to my breast and pinches my nipple in a way that sends a flood of wetness to my sex. “How about that?”

  I arch off of the bed, a high-pitched “Yes,” on my lips. I don’t know if it's an affirmative to his question or and encouragement for him to do more.

  Like the smart man he is, he takes it as both and then his hands are everywhere. Massaging. Pinching. Caressing. Teasing.

  And I feel alive. So alive life is bursting from within me. I’m going to live. I’m going to live a long, full life full of laughter and Logan and happiness and love and—

  Logan rolls us over in bed so that I’m laid flat on my back again, him over me like the devouring predator that he is.

  But for once, he’s missing the vacant look of desperation that always used to hover like a cloud over him, like any second he was ready to bolt the second you betrayed him, always on guard and ready for it.

  Now, though, when he looks down at me, it’s only with eyes full of love. Well, there’s a fair amount of lust, too, but it’s interwoven with love. And it’s the most powerful emotion I’ve ever felt coming from him.

  I’m so consumed by it, that I almost don’t notice the shadow moving outside the window from the balcony.

  Almost.

  But Logan registers the stiffness of my body even before I’ve realized the shape of the shadow is a man.

  And that man is holding a gun, pointed straight at us.

  * * *

  It’s Adam.

  Adam’s on our balcony with a gun.

  The thought barely registers before Logan is off the bed and charging the balcony’s double doors.

  Wait—

  How—?

  No!

  But there’s no slow-motion like in the movies. It all happens in the blink of an eye.

  Logan explodes through the balcony doors that open outwards, knocking Adam off balance.

  I scream as the gun goes off. “Logan!”

  The covers of the bed catch around me as I try to get to my feet and I almost fall off the bed trying to get to Logan. By the time I right myself, Logan and Adam are wrestling on the narrow balcony.

  Where’s the gun? Did Logan get shot? Does Adam still have the gun?

  I run over to the doorway, looking for a vase or something else heavy to hit Adam with, but we’re in Logan’s bedroom in the castle and it’s spare, almost no decoration. How the hell did Adam even get up to the balcony? We’re three stories up. I know he does some free climbing but what the hell? And how the hell did he get here? I thought the police were going to arrest him.

  By the time I grab Logan’s laptop, the heaviest thing I can find, and make it back to the balcony, the fight has escalated.

  Adam and Logan are both back on their feet, squaring off, right as the clouds darken overhead.

  “You stole everything from me!” Adam howls. He doesn’t look well. He’s in one of his fancy suits, but the shirt is buttoned off kilter and there are stains down the front of it.

  “You’re trash from the street who never deserved to lick the shit off the soles of my shoes and you think you get to win? You think some fucking rat off the street is going to best Adam fucking Archer? My grandfather shat in your grandparents’ soup bowls and they ate it up and were grateful. But you—”

  A sharp gut punch from Logan shuts Adam up but doesn’t make him look any less mutinous. Fury pours off of him in waves as he glares back up at Logan and then lets out the roar of a wounded beast a
t the same time he charges.

  But Logan’s quick.

  At the last moment, he feints left and then jerks out of the way to the right. But Adam’s momentum continues forward. He’s unable to readjust for the last minute move.

  And he goes sailing right over the balcony in the spot where Logan was just standing.

  Oh my g—!

  The laptop I’m holding clatters to the carpeted rug at my feet as I run out onto the balcony.

  But Logan holds out an arm to brace me, holding me back.

  Which is when I hear Adam’s panicked shouts.

  “Help! Heeeeeelp!”

  And I looked down to see that Adam is dangling from our balcony, holding on by just a few fingers to the stone railing.

  The screams continue, jumping in pitch and octave until Adam is screeching in the range of a soprano. “Help! Oh gods, please. Help me! I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything! I take it all back!”

  Logan looks down at the flailing man in disgust, but only for a second before leaning over the waist-high railing to grasp Adam’s wrist.

  I’m only standing a couple of feet away from both of them and I see it—the instant the expression on Adam’s face changes.

  From panic to glee.

  But I can’t shout Logan’s name fast enough.

  Adam lets go of the balcony completely and grasps Logan’s arm with both of his hands, yanking Logan off balance and pulling him further over the edge of the railing.

  “I lost everything. And now so will you!”

  Adam’s a fucking maniac, jerking and twisting, trying to wrest Logan all the way over the edge of the railing. And it’s working. Logan’s cursing and struggling to get a hold on the railing, but inch by inch, he’s going over.

  Adam is winning. He’s trying to take my Logan from me and he’s winning.

  “You son of a bitch!” I scream. And then I run forward, stick my leg through the railing so I can reach down to him, and kick Adam in his crazy, evil fucking face.

  Adam tries to lunge for my leg with one of his hands, and that’s his undoing.