Page 67 of The Beast's Heart

“It doesn’t matter.”

Geoff takes the bottle back from me and takes a drink. “You really have changed. Was a time no one could get near you. You were practically paranoid.”

“I wasn’t paranoid.” Back then, at the height of my celebrity, the world was full of people who wanted to use me. If I let down my guard for a minute there would be someone trying to entrap me, bribe me, blackmail me.

Geoff laughs. “Can you even imagine letting someone like him get this close back then?”

“He’s not like that. We both know he’s not like that.”

“Do we?” Geoff looks at me, his dark eyes glinting in the low light.

I stuff my hands in my pockets, feeling at once defensive. Jonathanisn’tlike that. He’s… sweet. He’s gentle and kind.

Geoff is watching me carefully. “I know you like him, Beast. That’s why I haven’t said anything. You’re probably right. He’s probably not a threat. But let me ask you, when was the last time you let someone get under your skin like this? You sure you don’t have a blind spot?”

I don’t want it to make sense, but it does. He’s right. I’ve let my guard down. I’ve become so enamored with Jonathan that I stopped questioning who he is or what he might want. “If you know something, spit it out.”

He gives a little snort and shakes his head. “Would you listen to me if I did?”

I eye him warily. Again, he’s not wrong. “Geoff.”

He shrugs and turns back towards the house. “I don’t know anything. Then again, neither do you.”

28

JONATHAN

Ihardly sleep, worrying about Mal and how I’m going to broach the subject with Adam.

When I left Mal, I found the rest of the children in Enrique’s room. They’d rallied and Ben was babbling excitedly about the light mirror while Enrique was zooming around the room with his cars. Adam was nowhere to be found. I have to speak to him about Mal. I can’t keep this sort of thing a secret. What if Mal has kleptomania and needs help?

In the few hours of sleep I finally manage to find, I have unsettling dreams and I wake often to the sound of the wind and the rattling of my windows.

Sunday morning dawns cold and wet. The house is dark with oppressive cloud cover and even the children’s happy chatter over breakfast isn’t enough to lift my own dark mood.

Of course on this particular morning, Adam doesn’t join us. He’s probably still upset about how our surprise was received. The cigarette case is heavy in my pocket and my heart is heavy with dread. How do I do this in a way that protects Mal while still ultimately ensuring his wellbeing? Surely Adam won’t reject him like his adopted family did? No. The man I saw with them lastnight, the one I’ve gotten to know these past few weeks, would never do something like that.

I cling to that thought as I seek him out. He isn’t in his control room, or the foundation offices. I go down to the greenhouse, but Adam isn’t there either. A wicked wind sweeps across the grounds and a light rain sprinkles my shoulders and hair.

I return upstairs. I won’t be able to relax until this is dealt with, but maybe I’ll be able to settle to a book for at least a while, or… a movement catches the corner of my eye as I hit the landing.

The door to the West Wing is hanging ajar.

Highly unusual.

Adam must have recently stepped inside. I just missed him.

“Adam?” No response, but the door swings open wider.

Not a ghost inviting me in. This weather is making me see things. It’s just some rogue wind current as it always is in this old house.

I go right up to the threshold and call again, louder, “Adam? I need to speak with you.”

Nothing. Just the drumming of the rain on some far window.

I know the rule. The one rule. But it’s as simple as this: Either Adam is somewhere in there and will respond to my calls so we can have this conversation that we really need to have. Or Adam is not in there and he won’t know I trespassed. Besides, we’re friendly now. Maybe he wouldn’t mind. The doorwasstanding open.

My stomach doesn’t seem to agree as I step over the threshold. It’s clenched tight, like my hand in that boxing glove when Geoff says those things about being a beta man. But I press a little further in. And stop.

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