Beasty (A Royal's Tale Book 2)

by Jennise K

  “I’m sure they would be very proud of you, Miss.”

  I nodded, my eyes blurry. “I hope so.”

  A small smile graced the old woman’s face, and she patted my hand.

  “I’m sure they would be. Every year, on their death anniversary, you always catch a flight to London just to visit their grave. You’re a good daughter, Olivia,” Pompy told me, flashing me a proud smile.

  I sighed. She held my shoulders, her arms fully extended so she could take a look at me properly. After wiping my face to make sure I appeared composed, she looked at me with that same proud look again. Pompy motioned to me that it was time to go now, and I followed the woman, walking towards the black car parked at the entrance of the cemetery.

  “Is there any way I can meet Mr. Monatelly before I rush back to the airport, Pompy?” I asked.

  Sliding into the back seat of the car, I turned to see Pompy slide in beside me. The driver, Thomas, looked back at us, and I nodded softly before he began driving.

  Back to the estate.

  Back home.

  A strange feeling flushed into my chest when the first thoughts of home brought up flashes of the castle. Romanov’s Castle.

  I shook my head and turned away, looking out of the window at the usual dull day. Living in the castle for the last two weeks had changed me a bit.

  Or maybe it was Romanov.

  The tall, grand gates of the estate swung open, making a loud and shrill noise. John and Yusuf, the two elite security guards, stood on each side of the gate. I waved to both of them as the car drove by into the long driveway and slowly turned into the large garage before parking beside the many other vehicles inside.

  I sighed when I saw my dad’s favourite Porsche still parked in its usual space. I turned away before the tide of memories would take me over and got out of the car. At once, I began walking towards the entrance.

  “Olivia! It’s so wonderful to see you! I just emailed you papers of our latest accounts yesterday. I suppose you didn’t see them?”

  A small awkward smile ripped out of my lips when the tall, well-built man extended his hand towards me. Looking up at the director of my father’s businesses, I took his hand and gave it a small shake.

  “It’s good to see you too, Mr. Monatelly. I’m sure I’ll see them when I’m back in Berlin,” I replied.

  Edward Monatelly smiled slightly before he motioned us towards the large sofa placed in a comfortable pattern. Seating me on the cream-coloured couch, he elegantly sat down beside me.

  My insides warmed as I took in every accessory around the mansion—each knickknack, the shining polished hardwood floor, the family photos placed above the frame of the fireplace.

  I breathed the air in and smiled sadly. The mansion even smelt of warmth. Like home. My childhood.

  “Ah! Speaking of Berlin, how are your studies sailing along, Olivia? Are you sure you’re comfortable with both studying and controlling the whole business?” Mr. Monatelly asked.

  I cringed. The question was something I had asked myself after Mum and Dad died. Could I handle the hotels? The malls? Could I handle taking over my parents’ hard work?

  Looking up, I caught Mr. Monatelly’s smirk, and I frowned. All traces of doubt removed itself from my face, and with practiced coolness, I smiled as I leaned forward. “Businesses, Mr. Monatelly. Nine malls and eleven hotels. And are you forgetting the number of buildings we have out for rent by other businesses?”

  Mr. Monatelly froze, and his face became serious. “I know each mall, hotel, and building by the floors, their location, and down to their decor, Olivia. I’ve spent years managing everything for you after your parents died.”

  A scoff issued from behind me, and both Mr. Monatelly and I turned towards the source. I almost smiled when I noticed Pompy still standing behind our couch, arms folded in front of her.

  Turning back towards the light-haired, sharp-looking man, I smiled softly, and all anger from a second ago vanished and his bright blue eyes widened slightly.

  “I should say the same thing, too, Mr. Monatelly. I know each hotel, mall, and building by every floor, every hallway, every room, and every corner because I’ve grown up with them,” I retorted. My smile brightened again. “Now then, what was our main topic of conversation again?”

  Mr. Monatelly’s face melted into a smile, and Pompy scoffed behind us again.

  Ignoring her, Mr. Monatelly leaned forward, hesitation clear on his face.

  “I apologise. I get defensive when someone questions me about the…businesses that I took complete disregard to today’s date and significance. My condolences, Olivia. Truly,” he said, sorrow etched onto his face. “How about I take you out for dinner tonight to make up for this?”

  My eyes widened, and I immediately shook my head—refusing—an apologetic look on my face. “That’s sweet, but I’m sorry, Mr. Monatelly. I can’t. I have a flight to catch in an hour.”

  Confusion filled my mind when Monatelly’s eyes widened in alarm before he schooled them back to normal.

  Is everything okay?

  Edward licked the bottom of his lips while he brought his right hand to mine and a thick black file forward with the other.

  “I’m not sure you understand. It’s important you stay,” he said with the practiced calmness of someone telling another of bad news. “The accounts, Olivia, there’s something wrong with them.”

  Oh hell no…

  He nodded when I looked at him with shock.

  “I’m afraid someone’s been messing with the money.”

  ~

  An hour later, I found myself groaning as I carefully ripped off the last Justin Bieber poster and threw it in the now overflowing trash can. Devoid of the covering provided by the pop star’s face, my bedroom’s floral wallpapers now screamed as I exposed them into the light. I slumped down on my bed and ran my eyes around my room, suddenly feeling the little empty space in my heart filling up. I’d missed this. My place.

  My room was the smallest room in the mansion—by choice—because I liked things to be cosy. My room also looked the least luxurious but rather more comfortable and warm, just how I wanted it.

  Tiny photo frames littered the rough spaces of my bookshelf while a length of books still sought to be read on each shelf. Everything was clean and pristine, I noticed. My bedroom was just as I had left it two years ago. I turned towards a silent Pompy to send her a grateful smile and stopped when I caught her looking at me with an odd expression.

  “Are you…all right?” I asked her slowly, waving my hand in front of her face.

  The greying woman surprised me when she rolled her eyes and leaned forward to rest her chin on her hands. “I’m just wondering how someone can be so naive, Olivia.”

  I frowned. “Who’s naive?”

  Throwing her hands up, the middle-aged woman let out an incredulous laugh. “See? You are so naive, Olivia! Can’t you really see how Edward feels?”

  My eyes widened, and I gasped, my hands finding my mouth.

  “You think Monatelly…hates me?” I whispered my suspicion out loud. Did he really want to steal the companies from me?

  Truth be told, I had always thought the man disliked me for my lack of interest in officially managing the whole empire, so to speak, which was really why I was beginning to muster up enough courage to plunge into it after graduation. It was, after all, my responsibility.

  Pompy, on the other hand, shook her head as she made a disapproving sound. “Girl! He likes you! Admires you. Edward is interested in you!”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Olivia…Monatelly—”

  I shook my head, cutting her off. “I’m sorry, Pompy, but he’s thirty!”

  Pompy froze mid-sentence, her mouth still open. She sighed as if in defeat and slouched down on the couch.

  “Ten years matter little, Olivia. Your parents were seven years apart. My late husband and I were nine. But we were all happy. Age is but a number.”

  Despi
te myself, I rolled my eyes.

  “You won’t be saying that when I decide to marry a fifty-year-old,” I grumbled as I slumped to my right.

  Age is but a number.

  It wasn’t a lie. But in a sense, it was. Age did matter when the difference was too large and rationality too low. But wasn’t a difference of ten years better than twenty? And twenty better than thirty? What was even considered rational and acceptable?

  I mean, only just months ago, I’d found out that werewolves exist. I shook my head. These were all meaningless musings. Instead, I let my mind ponder on the task at hand.

  Edward Scissorhands.

  “Monatelly.”

  I blinked and caught myself, my eyes snapping towards an amused-looking Pompy.

  Smirking, she shrugged theatrically. “You said that out loud, dear.”

  “He’s still a lot older than me.”

  “Maybe, but he’s tall, very well-built, exceptionally capable at his job, model material, handsome, a sweet lad when he tries, and his eyes are blue,” Pompy stated each point out loud matter-of-factly. She stopped, turned towards me, and smiled. “But, Olivia, are age and looks the only factor you should consider in a man?”

  I pondered about it for a second and immediately shuddered when everything in me repelled against it. I couldn’t. Not when over the days, I’d come to a dead-end realisation.

  I liked Romanov.

  It wasn’t just because he had saved me. It wasn’t only because he was Beasty. I liked him. His mixed American and Cambridge accent, his care and his smile. And although everything about Romanov was complicated—although he himself was complicated—and not entirely human, I really couldn’t think of Edward Monatelly in that way. Well…not anytime soon anyway.

  “I’ve never viewed him that way, Pompy. And besides, I like someone else.” I let out an exhausted breath and laid my head in my hand.

  Pompy smiled. Her dark eyes twinkled against her tan skin, proving to her Romani ancestry. “Met the beast, I see.”

  I stilled. My shocked gaze snapped to her twinkling ones, and she reached over to pat me on my head. “Gypsy blood, dear. I’ve known ever since I first began working here when you were almost six.”

  A strange feeling of anger flared in my chest, and I almost frowned at the new sort of intensity in it. I faced Pompy. “And you never once found it important to tell me?” I exclaimed, suddenly straight in my seat.

  Pompy shrugged again and only said, “It wasn’t the time.”

  My mouth fell agape, and I moved closer to her, arching my neck to show her the mark Romanov had given me. “What do you know about this? Please! I must know! I’ve searched nearly every book in the library! And in each one, pages with information about marks were ripped!”

  Pompy’s smile saddened as she reached forward and ran a finger along my mark. Strangely, the anger bubbling in my chest flared, and I tried to pushed it down.

  Suddenly pulling her finger back as if she were zapped, Pompy’s eyes met mine, and she shook her head, her sad smile in place.

  “Olivia…It isn’t time yet.”

  ~

  Heavy drops of rain hit the glass windows, and I smiled in the dark, the smell of wet soil seeping into the room through the higher open windows.

  The whole mansion seemed to settle in comforting silence, and it felt nice to just lie in a room without being scared of an eternal ghost or a screaming banshee.

  Now, with a carefree smile on my face, I turned to my side only to groan when the loud beeping of my cell phone began blaring.

  I smiled when ‘Marsha calling’ flashed on the screen.

  Letting her know that I would be coming to London today had been one of the first things I had done because she was one of my closest persons there.

  Letting Romanov know had been the first.

  Tapping on ‘Accept,’ I placed the phone against my ear.

  “Hello, Marsha?”

  Marsha seemed to hesitate before she finally spoke up, “You were due here eleven hours ago, dear.”

  Groaning, I pulled my blanket over my face. “I’m sorry. I got caught up with something here. I’ll be in Berlin by nine-ish tomorrow.”

  Marsha seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

  “Oh, okay—” She stopped, hesitating to say what she wanted to next. “I wouldn’t meet Master Romanov tomorrow if I were you.”

  A shudder ran down my spine, and I bit my lip as I asked the next question, “Why?”

  Marsha loudly sighed. “You were due here eleven hours ago, Olivia.”

  “Oh…so he’s mad,” I drawled out lamely. Suddenly, my pillows seemed fluffier than it ever had.

  At my lame reply, Marsha chuckled. Slowly, it died, and my heart jolted in my chest. “Yes, Olivia. He is mad. Very.”

  ~

  From: Beasty

  I stared at the message I’d received while I was travelling back to the castle. For the hundredth time, my eyes moved over the simple sentence and stopping at the one simple word that held so much power and gave an incredibly great deal of impact. Home.

  I was back in my partially hidden alcove, surrounded by hundreds of beautiful books—old and new.

  Looking at the message once again, I sighed. Truth be told, I had completely ignored the message. Finding out shark week had begun this morning had left me in the pits of abdominal agony, and the last thing I wanted was to tackle Romanov.

  It was obvious. He was furious that I had not been back on time. Although Lord knew why, because the human mind seemed too underdeveloped to understand the complex paradox named Romanov Naight.

  The lights outside the alcove window seemed to have died down already, and I sighed as I finally gave up on ignoring my bedroom and got up to my feet, moving towards the library door as quick as my tired feet could carry me.

  I passed dozens of hallways, and endless turns were taken before I finally saw my room’s door. A relieved breath left my lips, and I tried to calm down my thundering heart as I walked towards the door as calmly as I could. The fear of bumping into Romanov rattled me, disorienting me, so, in order to lessen the chances of such a dreadful encounter, I hastened my pace.

  Finally, the doorknob touched my palm, and I chuckled with relief as I twisted it open and moved into the silent dark room. Closing the door, my hand quickly found the light’s switch.

  Light filtered into the shadowy room, and still smiling, I turned around, only to freeze.

  Seated on my bed was Romanov.

  I watched, frozen, as he finally looked up and his stormy dark eyes met mine.

  His eyes blazed golden.

  “Welcome, Olivia.”

  Chapter 12

  The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The air was suddenly heavy and hot. Even the air seemed charged with energy, and I could almost feel the tingles on my fingertips.

  Eyes still on me, Romanov made a move to stand up, and I let out a gasp when one minute, Romanov was sitting on the bed and the next, he was an inch away from me.

  “Had a safe trip, I suppose?” he bit out, his voice a dark and deadly storm.

  I couldn’t reply. My eyes only remained frozen on Romanov’s blazing golden ones. I stood still before him.

  His golden eyes gleamed brighter, and I gasped and shut my eyes when he leaned forward, his nose now touching my cheek. “Speak, Olivia.”

  Shock ran through me as I felt his arm slip around my back, tightening as it encircled me completely. “Do you know how infuriating it is to wait for someone at the airport and an hour later, when they are nowhere in sight, all the confusion turns into fear, and then the fear into anger?”

  His hold tightened on me again, and he pulled me to him with a jolt, his lips brushing against mine, only for a second. I shivered as chills ran down my back at the contact of his lips, his warm breath covering my mouth.

  “Who touched my mark, Olivia?”

  Despite my violently beating heart and the tingles on my lips, I frowned, my irritation and stoma
ch cramps making me act without care.

  “Why are you even so mad?” I blurted out frustratingly, throwing my hands up in the air.

  Surprising me, Romanov threw his head back and chuckled. “Why am I so mad?”

  My breath hitched in my throat when he suddenly stopped. His serious gaze was back on me. “Who touched my mark, Olivia? Who touched you?”

  Suddenly feeling very rebellious, I looked away, sticking my nose in the air. “First tell me how you know that someone touched it, and why you are so mad. Then maybe I—ahh!”

  My eyes widened. I couldn’t help but gasp as his mark throbbed between his teeth, my fingers raking Romanov’s thick hair.

  I gulped, and Romanov pulled on his mark lightly. Another round of intense pleasure ran through my body, and I almost wept at this feeling. It was all so new to me.

  Suddenly, Romanov’s lips left his mark, and he moved lower. I gasped when his hands found the back of my thighs and he pulled me up against him. My legs automatically wrapped around his waist.

  Flinging my hands around his neck, I grasped him with obvious surprise at what was happening.

  How could he keep doing this to me when he didn’t feel the same thing? And why did my body react like this every time he was around me and touched me. I felt like begging him to do things I’d never begged anyone to do before. This clearly wasn’t hero worship anymore. So what was it?

  “You can’t keep doing this. Why are you doing this? What is this mark? What is this!” I whispered desperately, my eyes looking at the pair of liquid gold ones in front of me while I held onto his arms and tried to shake him, hoping the answers would come tumbling out.

  A blank look on his face, Romanov tightened his hold on me and turned around, walking towards my bed and dropping me when we reached it.

  A breath later, his body covered mine, his molten golden pools staring into my dirt-coloured eyes.

  “Answer my questions and I’ll answer yours.”

  Slowly, as his fingers caressed my arm, I gave in. Looking away from his face to his chest, I took in a deep breath and finally let it go. “Pompy, my home’s caretaker, touched your mark.”