Page 64 of Beast

But this isn’t even close to romantic. This is blackmail.

And Beast couldn’t be less of a Prince Charming if he tried.

“It will do,” he says, as if the ice rink on my finger is nothing. It must’ve cost a fortune. Unless it’s fake.Like the rest of this.I move my hand around so it catches in the light and sparkles. I don’t care if it’s fake. It’s beautiful, and I’ve never owned something so lovely.

“Ready to go, fiancée?” he asks.

I take another look at the ring on my finger and smile. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

As we walkthrough the unusually quiet clubhouse toward the front door, I think about my uncle and how pale he looked today. Then I think about how it’s only because of Beast’s generosity he is safe.

My hands turn clammy, and my heart begins to pound rapidly against my rib cage.

If I don’t sell this, then Uncle Maurice will pay the price.

I think of Annika and her suspicious looks.

If anyone is going to pull this pretense apart it will be her. She already knows something isn’t right.

In a moment of panic, I stop and turn to Beast.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I will never be able to pull it off. They will see right through me because I’m not a good actress. Not when there is so much at stake.”

I can’t meet this eye. Because I know he’s going to be angry at me. He will see this as me being difficult. But it’s not. It’s me being terrified people will see straight through our fakery and my uncle will bear the consequence.

Last night at the party, I was angry at him and that anger made it easy to face everyone. Not to mention, I was bolstered by a couple of shots of Wildfire Moonshine.

But now I’ve had time to process the situation, and I can see how much is at stake. There is no way I will be able to pull it off.

“Look at me,” Beast says.

He brushes his finger and thumb against my chin and gently lifts my face so I have no choice but to look at him. “There is nothing to be afraid of, little one.”

“But what if I fuck it up?”

A hint of a smile touches his beautiful lips. “How would you do that?”

“I’m not a very good actress.”

“Last night you were a very good one,” he says with a heat in his voice that make certain parts of me tingle. “Just look at me like you love me. Don’t flinch if I touch you.”

I swallow thickly. “Exactly how are you going to touch me?”

“Like this.” He takes my hand in his and tangles his fingers through mine. Then runs his knuckles down my cheek. “And like this.”

His lips find mine and the tenderness in his kiss makes me weak behind the knees.

It feels reassuring.

Gentle.

Real.

I pull away, startled by the thought. “What if they don’t think I’m your type. Oh my god, what is your type?”

He runs his thumb across my lower lip. “You, Belle. You’re my type.”

My heart kicks an extra beat.

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