Beauty’s Beast Page 2

  I stifle a groan. “I’m Daphne of the myth. She turned into a laurel tree.”

  “Hmm,” Armand murmurs.

  “I was trying to be clever,” I mumble.

  Two beautiful women traipse past us, one blonde, one brunette. Both dressed in togas that hug their butts and plunge between their breasts. Sexy Aphrodite and Slutty Athena. The blonde flutters her fingers at Armand. He smiles but gives a small shake of his head, and she turns away with a pout.

  Rachel was right. Dressing like a tree was a mistake. I hold my chin up, pretending I don’t care.

  “You are clever, darling.” Unbelievably, Armand turns back to me. I wrack my brain for what I know about him. Owner of a chain of spas, a top fashion line, and hair and skin treatment products shipped all over the world. “I would expect nothing less from you…Dr. Laurel.” He tweaks my leafy crown of laurels.

  “Oh, call me Daphne. Dr. Laurel is my father.”

  “Daphne.” He inclines his head. “How is your father?”

  “Much better, thank you,” I repeat the company line. His stroke is common knowledge, widely reported, much to the board’s dismay.

  “And you, the youngest CEO in New Olympus.” Armand is back to studying me with his monocle. “Perhaps ever.”

  “Not quite. Adam Archer claimed that title when he took over Archer Industries for his father.”

  “But that was years ago. Now you ascend to the throne. I wonder if Adam will be jealous.”

  “Not of me.” I blush.

  “Mmmm,” Armand purrs, tucking the monocle away. “I think you underestimate yourself.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re here, aren’t you? Young, beautiful, successful.”

  “Acting like a wallflower. Which is fitting, because I’m dressed as shrubbery.” I spread my hands to present my sartorial faux pas.

  Armand’s laugh lights tingles up and down my spine. I don’t mind his flirting—I know I’m not his type—but he certainly is handsome.

  “We can’t have that, beautiful Daphne. Come.” He takes my hand and draws me away from the column. My options are to protest and make a scene, or follow.

  I choose to follow. “Where are you taking me?” My stomach rumbles. I put a hand over it, mortified.

  Armand pauses. “Perhaps I should get you something from the buffet?”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. I’m afraid I’ll spill something on myself. I get clumsy when I’m nervous.” Then I slam my mouth shut. Argh, must engage brain before talking! This is why I shouldn’t socialize.

  But Armand only chuckles. “Very well.” He draws me into his embrace. “Do you dance?”

  “Not really.” My limbs are wooden.

  “Sway with me then.” His eyes mesmerize me, and I grow supple in his arms. “That’s it.”

  At one end of the ballroom, a full piece orchestra plays a jazzy version of the Sleeping Beauty waltz. Armand leads me smoothly between the other dancers. My full skirt swishes satisfyingly around Armand’s lean legs. Okay, well this isn’t too hard.

  “We make a perfect pair,” he tells me, and I almost believe him. Heads turn as we pass. For a moment I close my eyes and imagine I’m the beauty in the arms of her prince.

  “There,” Armand murmurs in my ear. “You’re not a wallflower anymore. No one can take their eyes off you.”

  I draw back, my cheeks in full blaze. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  He lets me out for a twirl and I follow his lead, giggling.

  “You’re welcome, my lady. But there’s something you should know.” He leans in close to whisper, “I am never kind.” He pulls back and I get a glimpse of the calculating look in his dark eyes.

  Tingles run up and down my spine, but I relax. In the past few months, I’ve dealt with more deceit and machinations than in my entire lifetime. And that’s just dealing with Belladonna’s board of directors. All in a day’s work for a CEO.

  I meet his gaze straight on. “So you’re acting for your benefit?”

  “Always. But not only mine.” He promenades me past a beautiful blonde in a silvery sheath. The Gala sponsor and hostess, the famous Cora Ubeli, standing in a receiving line of guests. Armand cuts through them and jerks his chin at me. I try to restrain my wild blushes. Cora gives me a gracious wave and smile.

  “See?” Armand murmurs, twirling me away. “You’re the belle of the ball tonight.”

  “Me?” I laugh. “No way.”

  “I’ve heard nothing but rumors about your intelligence, your wit, your beauty.”

  “Stop it.” My cheeks burn even hotter. “I’m just a scientist.”

  “On the cusp of great discoveries.”

  “I hope so.” I bite my lip. “But no guarantees. Most scientists try their whole life to make one life changing discovery. “

  “Is that why you’re seeking the merger with Archer Industries?”

  I stiffen in his arms. “What do you know about that?”

  “Just what the papers report, bella donna.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “No? I’ve always wondered why your father named his company after a poisonous flower?”

  “He named it for my mother. Her name was Isabella. And she was beautiful.”

  “The original Bella Donna. I see.” We whirl together for a few more beats before he adds, “She passed her looks to you.”

  “Thank you.” Must. Stop. Blushing.

  The song ends. We break apart and clap. Now that the room has stopped spinning, I notice the throngs of people staring at us, studying me behind their masks. My own Greek chorus.

  I shiver. Armand smooths his hands down my arms as if to soothe me. Up close, I realize there’s more to his costume than the monocle and red velvet jacket. A pair of silky wings are folded against his back. Black to match his eyes.

  “So, what are you?” I ask, fighting to keep a grip on my calm. “A fallen angel?”

  “Hermes, of course.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “I even have a message for you.”

  “A message?”

  “A warning. Tonight you’re Daphne, from the myth?”

  I nod shakily.

  He dips his head close and whispers in my ear. “Beware Apollo.”

  “Daphne!”

  I whirl in the direction of the shout. A crowd of toga wearers parts like a white sea. And there he is, striding towards me, dressed in white from collar to shoes, a crown of golden leaves on his head.

  Adam Archer.

  He’s golden and handsome and I think about all the things Rachel said earlier. About how the outings we’ve been on were actually dates.

  “Adam,” I greet him, holding out my hands. To my dismay, he brings them to his mouth and kisses my fingers. Does this mean Rachel was right? Or is he just being overly chivalrous?

  “Daphne. You look so beautiful.” His teeth flash, white as his tux. A few feet away, Aphrodite and Athena sigh and strike a pose, their assets on full display. But Adam only looks at me. My heart flutters.

  “A-and you look handsome.” I free my hands and press fingers to my lips. I worked hard to lose my shy stutter. But all my intelligence flies out the window whenever I’m with Adam. And then I realize the fingers on my lips are the ones he just kissed and my cheeks flame all over again. It’s good I barely put any blush on since my cheeks are going to be a perpetual rosy red.

  Adam really is the handsomest man in the room. White blond hair, a sculpted profile and body of an Olympic athlete. The gods wept when they made him.

  And he’s at least the tenth richest man in the room, I hear Rachel’s whisper, like a devil on my shoulder.

  I turn to introduce Armand, but he’s disappeared completely, as if he’s flown away. Just like Hermes.

  If Adam is wondering why I’m looking around, he doesn’t show it. “I missed you, darling,” he draws me close. My eyes catch on the tiny golden lyre pinned to his lapel. Beware Apollo.

  I blink and focus on Adam, who�
��s still talking. “I called your office to see if we could ride together.”

  “Sorry.” I’m blushing. The only way my cheeks could get redder is if I turned inside out. Breathe. Remember to breathe, dammit. “I must’ve been in the lab.”

  “Poor, sweet Cinderella.” He draws me onto the ballroom floor. “Once our companies merge, you won’t have to work so hard.”

  His hands—they’re on my body. Intimately touching me. Well, more intimately than I’m usually ever touched.

  His right hand rests on my waist right above the curve of my hip like he’s held me there every day of his life. Even Armand wasn’t so bold. Adam’s left hand holds my hand in a commanding grip as he guides me across the floor.

  “I-I don’t mind it.” I struggle to get my tongue back in order. “I mean, I like the lab. I like my work.”

  “I know you do,” he soothes. “Your board tells me you barely leave Belladonna’s basement.”

  Wait, what? “They do?” I bristle. Who’s been talking to him behind my back? “They shouldn’t be talking about me to outsiders—”

  “But I’m not an outsider, am I, sweet? I’ve been an ally of Belladonna since the beginning. If my father hadn’t wanted me to take over Archer Industries, I’d be in the lab with you, just like in the olden days with your father…speaking of whom, how is Dr. Laurel?”

  “He’s fine.” The rote response pops out of my mouth.

  Adam says nothing, just keeps looking at me. And I crumble, sagging in his arms.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper as a fist tightens around my chest. Yes, tonight is weird with both of us in these fancy clothes in this super fancy place, but this is Adam. He was one of my father’s beloved students. A protege.

  So I tell him the truth. “Dad’s not getting better. The doctors wanted to start PT weeks ago, but he’s still so sick.” My voice trembles.

  Everywhere I look, members of Olympus society stare at me. Vultures, all of them. Sharks sensing blood in the water.

  With a reassuring murmur, Adam guides me to a corner of the room, snagging a glass of champagne from a server’s tray.

  He offers it to me and I shake my head. I never drink, never partied in college. I’m a lightweight, and I haven’t eaten anything.

  “I insist,” Adam presses the glass to my lips until I take a gulp. “There, that’s better. I’ll take care of you.”

  My shoulders soften. Of course he’s right. Adam’s not an outsider. My father thinks of him as a son. I used to think of him as a brother—

  “Sweet Daphne,” he brushes a curl out of my face. “All grown up.”

  I flush from forehead to cleavage. I don’t think I can deny any more that Rachel was right. Adam doesn’t think of me as a little sister, not anymore.

  “Don’t worry about the merger. Or the board. I can handle them.”

  I draw in a breath. “Thank you, Adam. But I’m CEO now. I should—”

  “I’m more than happy to take on all duties as CEO, so you can spend all your time in the lab. If you choose to live there, that’s fine. As long as your nights belong to me.” He winks.

  I stare at his beautiful features. The room behind him is swimming, a blur of color.

  “Nights?” I squeak. “You want me to…work with you? At night?”

  He chuckles, tilting his head. He’s looking at me like I’m adorable. Adorable and naive. “I think we’d work well together.”

  “Like, business partners?”

  “Business partners. And more.” His hand settles into the small of my back, pressing me close. Oh. I might be a virgin, but I aced my anatomy classes. And Adam is perfectly formed—in all areas.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs in my ear.

  “I…don’t not want it.” Way to commit, Daphne!

  Rachel was right. Adam is into me. So much he’d like to be inside me if the hardness against my stomach is any indication. “I don’t know what to say. I thought you just wanted Belladonna.”

  “I do want Belladonna. The merger makes sense. But so do we.”

  I swallow. Adam is looking at me expectantly, a half smile on his breathtaking face. Any other woman would swoon if she was in my shoes. So why don’t I feel happy? “What about my father?”

  “What about him?” Adam tilts his head, casting half his perfect profile into shadow.

  “He’s fragile right now. Won’t this be a shock?”

  “We can wait, if you like. Until your father is better.”

  “I-I’d like that. There’s just so much going on.” I step away, rubbing my temples. “The board, the merger. The press keeps hinting that Belladonna is on the brink of bankruptcy.” And they may be right.

  “Why don’t you let me worry about all that?”

  Because I’m a big girl. I don’t need a man to save me. The retort is on my tongue when the band strikes up a rousing Strauss waltz. The room swirls with dancing couples. The figures start to blur…

  I touch my face, wishing I had my glasses. It’s silly, but whenever I’m stuck on a problem, I switch from contacts to glasses or vice versa. A literal new way of seeing things.

  “A-Adam?”

  “Yes, sweet?”

  “I think I need a moment. My contacts don’t seem to be working right.” There are two of you.

  “All right, Daphne. I’ll wait.” He ushers me out of the ballroom, past a duo of hulking security guards to a private hall.

  I pause with my hand on the bathroom door. “I won’t be long.”

  “Good girl,” Adam says, already turning away and pulling his cellphone from his pocket. Even doing something as mundane as checking his texts, he looks like a model.

  I turn away, making a face. Adam’s always been a little overbearing but tonight he’s coming on strong. I need an ally. I wish Rachel was here.

  The bathroom is empty and blissfully quiet. I linger a few extra moments in the dark stall before emerging to wash my hands in the marble sink. My head throbs. My hands blur.

  I knew I shouldn’t have worn these contacts. So what if my glasses make me look like a nerd? I am one.

  Gritting my teeth, I remove the offending lenses. There, that’s better. Now if the room would just stop spinning.

  “Daphne?”

  I whirl with a yelp. Armand stands in the doorway between the bathroom and the ladies parlor. I didn’t even hear him come in.

  “What are you doing here?” Without my contacts, his far away features are a bit blurry, but he stands out, a dark specter in the midst of pink and white marble. “This is the ladies room!”

  “And I’m the biggest queen here.” He strikes a pose. “At least until Philip Waters arrives. Are you feeling all right? Your pupils are dilated.”

  “I’m…fine,” I slur, leaning back on the counter. “Drink hit me the wrong way.”

  “Hmmm.” He comes closer, leaning in to study me. “You haven’t been imbibing belladonna, have you?”

  “What?”

  “Renaissance women took belladonna to make their pupils larger—”

  “I know that,” I flap my hand. “Believe me, I know everything about belladonna the plant that there is to know. And I have not imbibed it.” I’m just feeling a wee bit queasy…

  “Good. Because you’re late for a very important date.”

  “With Adam?”

  “Not him, you sly girl. You’ve got another secret admirer. A beast of a man.”

  “What?”

  “I was told to give you this.” Armand hands me a rose.

  I hold it close, staring at the whorl of red petals. “Who sent this?” The rose is exactly like the one left in my office. Rosa x hybrida. I know roses—my mother made sure of that.

  It can’t be a coincidence. I’m this close to knowing who my secret admirer is.

  “I don’t know. Big man in a scary mask. But what I wouldn’t give to find out.” He waggles his brows.

  I put a hand to my head. Is this really happening?

 
“He wants you to meet him in the labyrinth. Take all right turns. Oh, and he says the future of Belladonna depends on it.”

  What?

  There’s a knock on the door in the outer parlor. “Daphne?” comes Adam’s muffled voice.

  I stiffen, clutching the rose close. Is it a bad sign that I’m so tempted to grab this lifeline Armand is offering me—or the fact that it feels like a lifeline in the first place? What’s wrong with me? Any woman here would kill to be in my place with Adam waiting on the other side of that door for her.

  “Is that Adam Archer?” Armand asks. “The plot thickens.”

  “He’s worried about me.” I bite my lip.

  “You do look flushed. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  I shake my head and hold up the mysterious rose. “Help me?”

  “This way.” Armand grabs my hand, guiding me down the line of stalls, as if helping me sneak out of the ladies bathroom is the most normal thing in the world.

  At the end of the bathroom is a giant gilt mirror. Armand pushes a hidden button and I gasp when it swings open a crack, revealing a tiny door.

  “Never come to a party without a planned escape route,” Armand announces, pulling a key out of his jacket pocket and fitting it to the door’s lock.

  “Seriously?” I gape.

  “It’s New Olympus.” He shrugs. “Nothing is as it seems.”

  “Thanks, Hermes,” I giggle. Tomorrow I’ll think this is all a weird dream. But right now, the champagne is really hitting me.

  “Daphne?” Adam’s voice echoes, getting closer. “Are you in here?”

  I should run to him. But instead, I squeeze behind the mirror, frantic to get away. “Cover me,” I mouth to Armand.

  Through the looking glass I go.

  Armand nods and closes the door behind me.

  I step into some sort of low ceilinged hallway. It’s completely dark but I can feel around with my hands and I trust Armand not to send me towards a dead end. But this night is getting stranger by the second. I stumble on, feeling my way with my hands and find another door, this one unlocked.

  It swings open and I emerge into the night air.

  Four