Filthy Beast (Filthy Fairy Tales #1) Page 3

  I watch as the young chauffeur sets my suitcase down and disappears up the stairs in search of Adele. Unable to contain my excitement at the thought of meeting Declan, I twirl on my heel taking in the luxurious decor around me. Hart Manor looks like the kind of place you see in luxury real estate magazines. Despite the stark beauty of it all, I can’t help but feel intimidated. The modest apartment I grew up in pales in comparison to this. Every square inch looks staged for a movie. It also oddly looks untouched. Maybe Declan has a bit of OCD.

  My nerves seem to get the better of me as nausea sinks into my stomach. What the hell am I going to say to him? ‘Oh, hi. I’m, like, your biggest fan, and I love editing your books. Your books helped me when my mother died. And oh, by the way, I practically orgasm every time I read them.’

  I bite back a laugh as that last thought sinks in. Yeah, not likely. I’m just praying I don’t puke all over him. God, how embarrassing would that be? Not that it would ever deter from his beautiful face. I’ve seen pictures of Declan Hart, and it’s just a crime to be that handsome and talented. It’s like the Gods created every other man and decided, ‘yeah, we can do better.’

  Up until two years ago, Declan was drawing crowds of women to his signings. Women that just threw themselves at him. He must’ve had enough thrown at him to make a quilt of panties. I don’t blame them either. Declan Hart, the hottest thing since Nutella.

  This is really happening. I am really going to meet my idol.

  “Ms. Evans?”

  A woman, who I assume is Mr. Hart’s mother, or possibly his grandmother, appears almost out of nowhere. I fall over my suitcase at her sudden appearance, despite her friendly smile.

  “Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry. I forget to make noise when I’m not around Mr. Hart.”

  Forgets to make noise? I straighten my dress as Adele gently helps me up. Declan must be the type of writer who needs absolute silence. It makes sense with how secluded his home is. For the first time since my arrival, I feel myself finally beginning to relax. The quiet old woman looks me up and down briefly, and her smile widens.

  “Come in, come in. Let me get you a cup of tea. You must be exhausted.”

  She gestures toward a hallway and steps back to let me pass. I smile at her.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hart.”

  She giggles—a surprisingly girlish sound given her age. She shakes her head. “No, no, dearie. I’m Adele, the housekeeper.”

  My cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry. I just assumed...” I trail off. How stupid of me. Of course, a man as wealthy as Declan Hart would have a staff, especially with a house this big.

  She beams at me. “Mind you, sometimes I feel like his mother. But I’m just the lowly help.”

  I return her smile. “I’m sure you’re more than that.”

  “I like to think I’m family.” Adele leads me into a formal living room, chuckling. “Though if Declan were my son, he’d certainly have better manners.” She frowns slightly. “He can be a handful.”

  Her words almost seem like a warning. My cheeks flush at the wicked thoughts that creep into my mind. A handful? A handful of heaven, I bet. Adele gestures toward a barstool at the kitchen counter, and I sink down gratefully. This morning’s plane ride was my first ever, and I hadn’t realized how much walking and standing I’d have to do today. My feet are killing me, even in my relatively modest three-inch heels.

  “Would you like Louis to make you anything? Dinner will be served in about an hour, but if you’re hungry now, I’m sure he can whip you something up.”

  “Louis?” I ask, curious.

  “The chef. He’s part-time. He comes in every evening to prepare Mr. Hart’s meals. I’m not much of a cook, or I’d do it myself. Declan has specific dietary needs. Doctor’s orders,” she says, without explaining further. Doctor’s orders? Maybe he’s on some fabulous celebrity diet. That would explain why the man is so gorgeous. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hungry for more information on him to file away in my mental folder. I know next to nothing about the man, other than his career highlights and small bits from his social media accounts. As much as I’d like the rundown on Declan Hart, I haven’t found much online, which is surprising given I can find my ex-boyfriend’s new address. Not that I’ve looked or anything.

  “Thank you, but I’m fine. I can wait for another hour. I don’t want to be too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all, dear. It’s nice to have someone else in this house. It gets lonely.”

  I smile at Adele’s friendly personality. I like her already. Maybe she can give me the details on Declan. My eyes drift to the hallway, half-expecting to see him walk through the entryway.

  “Will he be down soon?” I ask, trying not to sound too excited. My heart flutters at the thought of seeing him in the flesh. Finally, after years of reading his beautiful words, I’ll get to meet him in person. I can’t decide if I’m excited or anxious.

  Her smile turns brittle. “He won’t be coming down.”

  My face falls, and I take in a breath. “He won’t?” I ask, trying not to sound too disappointed. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting all morning. I even practiced a speech on the plane. I’m pretty sure the man beside me thought I was a maniac.

  She turns to face a potted plant in the corner. “He’s being a stubborn ass,” she says slowly and deliberately, glaring at the Ficus tree. I’m a bit taken aback by the bite of Adele’s words. I definitely wasn’t expecting her to say that. Maybe she doesn’t like Declan. But why would she be working here? Adele turns back to me, her smile beaming again, as though she hasn’t just chastised an inanimate object.

  “Now, then. He says to tell you that he, oh, what were his words?” She stares up at the ceiling for a moment. “Yes, that’s right. He says he doesn’t need a goddamn babysitter, and you should just go back to New York. He’ll call Richard tomorrow.”

  Oh, no. This can’t be happening. I prepared myself for some resistance from him as far as making the deadline, but if he doesn't cooperate, I’m going to be trawling the job boards by the end of the week. Richard made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want any other delays. He wants results, and he wants them ASAP.

  I narrow my eyes. “Mrs.—”

  “Just call me Adele, please.”

  “Adele,” I concede. “I’ve been calling and emailing Mr. Hart for months. He hasn’t returned any of my messages, with the exception to say the manuscript will be late. Otherwise, he’s pretty much dropped off the face of the earth.” I frown. “This book is a year late, I might add. And he’s missed the next three due dates completely. The final manuscript was supposed to be done already. And now he’s not even giving us an idea of when it will be done.”

  She put her hands up in supplication. “Believe me, Ms. Evans—”

  “It’s Olivia.”

  She nods graciously. “Olivia. If I had any pull over his writing process, the book would be done by now.”

  I frown. “The company has invested a lot of money in this project already. We need this done as soon as possible.”

  She shakes her head gently. “I’m sorry, dearie. The muses aren’t talking.”

  “Maybe if I spoke with him, I could get them to sing.”

  She smiles noticing the irritation in my voice.

  “Somehow, I don’t doubt that. But he won’t see you.”

  Embarrassment hits me like a steel train. Somehow, this seems personal. Is it because I’m just some lowly assistant? I can’t help but feel if Richard were here, he would get a different reaction.

  “That’s completely unacceptable. I understand the story may not be its best.” I think I hear a growling noise coming from the vicinity of the hallway, and my head whips around. I could swear I see a shadowy figure at the top of the stairs. But it’s gone a moment later, and I decide I must have imagined it. Had he been listening to our conversation? I bite my lip. Had I really been that close to the man I’d been venerating for so long with
out even knowing it? But why wouldn’t he come in and introduce himself?

  “But we can work with him on that,” I continue, turning back to Adele. “That’s why I’m here. I’m authorized to stay in Las Vegas for as long as it takes to finish the novel.”

  She shakes her head sadly. “Oh, he insists that’s not necessary.”

  I huff out a breath, annoyed. This isn’t her fault, but my patience is running thin nonetheless. I can only take so much disappointment before I snap.

  “Look, Adele, I appreciate you speaking to me on his behalf. But I think it would be best if I spoke with Mr. Hart himself.”

  She looks at me thoughtfully. “You need this, don’t you?”

  I flush again. “Of course, as I said, StoneHaven Publishing has a lot of money invested in this novel alr—”

  “No, no, not your company. You. You need this.”

  I bite my lip, debating whether or not I can tell her the truth about my ‘crush’ on her employer and the fact that Richard will fire me if he doesn’t get this manuscript. Adele seems friendly enough, sure, but is she trustworthy?

  “What would make me happiest right now is Mr. Hart finishing that novel, according to his contract,” I say firmly.

  She laughs, but in the background, I can hear a door slamming upstairs. Interesting. I wonder if Mr. Hart was the shadowy figure that I saw upstairs a moment ago, after all.

  “Well, dearie, if you insist on being stubborn, then I guess you’ll just have to stay here.”

  I shake my head vigorously. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly. I have a hotel room reserved.”

  She frowns. “Where are you staying?”

  “It’s a motel in Henderson.” I couldn’t afford to book anything in this ritzy neighborhood on the paltry stipend StoneHaven Publishing gave me.

  She scowls, shaking her head firmly. “No, no. That’s much too far away. It’ll take you forty-five minutes to get here every day with all the construction.”

  I purse my lips. On the one hand, staying here would give me an opportunity to really get to know Declan, to get insight into his writing process, and maybe even into what makes him tick as a person. On the other hand, I’d hate to feel like I’m taking advantage of him. Besides, does his housekeeper even have the authorization to invite someone to stay here without his direct permission?

  Ultimately, I shake my head. “Adele, I appreciate the offer, really, but I can’t stay here.”

  She spread her arms wide, the gesture encompassing the spacious room. “There’s plenty of room here,” she says. “And I guarantee it’ll be better than any flea-bitten motel in Henderson,” she says, shuddering dramatically.

  I hide a smile. “Really, I’ll be fine. I’m accustomed to worse.” In New York, I live with four other people in a three-bedroom walk-up in Queens. Having a room to myself, even a shabby rented room that I wouldn’t want to walk around barefoot in will be a godsend.

  She frowns. “Well, that’s simply scandalous. A nice girl like you. You should be living in the lap of luxury.” She flashes a mischievous grin. “And what do you know. Here we are in the lap of luxury.”

  I open my mouth to protest again, but she cuts me off. “Now, that’s settled. Let me show you to your room.”

  I sigh, giving into Adele’s tempting offer.

  “You’ll see,” Adele says. “You’ll get much better results with Declan if you stay here.”

  I look up at the intimidating staircase in front of me that leads to the second floor of the manor.

  “I’ll take your word for it.” I smile, hoping that somehow my presence will help.

  4

  DECLAN

  The following day, I find Adele grabbing a set of towels and a robe from my ex-wife’s old bedroom closet and the sight of it sends anger flaring through my veins. I’ve told her too many times this room isn’t to be opened. I wince at the soft smell of rose perfume that still lingers in the air and the silk fabric of the mattress sheets that call to me. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, I can’t get rid of the scent. It’s seeped into the carpet.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  If looks could kill, my housekeeper would be six feet under right now. Luckily, she’s one of the few people I actually still like. Surely, I must have misheard her when she said she invited the woman from StoneHaven Publishing to stay in my house. Who the hell does she think she is? I’m starting to think I’ve been too nice to her.

  Adele smiles up at me slyly, her brown eyes looking more alive than they have in years. “I invited Ms. Evans to stay with us,” she repeats.

  Yes, far too nice. I glare at her with a deepening disdain.

  “And why the fuck would you do that?”

  She shoots me a chiding look as she walks out of the room. I follow her closely nipping at her heels as she heads toward the other side of the mansion.

  “Language, Declan. Ms. Evans is a nice girl. She doesn’t need to hear your gutter talk.”

  I stop, nearly forgetting the scars on my face. I duck into my bedroom, leading Adele in with me.

  “Ms. Evans,” I growl, “isn’t staying. So I don’t give a shit what she hears,” I add, grabbing the towels and robe from her.

  Adele looks at me with disappointment. “She needs this job, Declan.”

  “Not my problem,” I say stubbornly throwing the items into the fireplace in my room.

  I’ll burn those later.

  Adele straightens to her full height, and even sitting, I still have a few inches on her. But she extends a finger, poking my chest as she shoots daggers from her eyes. “It damn well is your problem, Declan Hart. You’re the one who can’t get over yourself long enough to fulfill your contract. You put that poor girl in this position.”

  I smirk at the word ‘position’ because I’m immature like that. I could think of several positions I’d like to put the lovely Ms. Evans in. But my face sobers when I realize I can’t. Not with her, not with any woman. Who would want someone who looks like a monster? Someone who actually is a monster?

  “She is going to stay here, and you are going to finish that novel,” Adele continues. I scowl, and she pokes me again. “And you will be civil to her, or so help me, Declan, I will quit.”

  I can’t help but roll my eyes again. Adele threatens to quit at least once a month. I’ve never been an easy boss to work for, but since the crash, I’ve been an absolute beast. I treat her like shit, but she takes it all. My mood swings would make a lesser woman flee in terror. But she hasn’t quit on me yet, and we both know she never will.

  “You’d really choose a virtual stranger over me?” I tease.

  She huffs. “I’d pick the devil over you,” she mutters.

  “You forget, Adele. I am the devil.”

  She scowls again. “Hardly. You’re an animal,” she says, grabbing the plate of half-eaten food from my desk.

  I bite back a smile. That’s as close to an admission of affection as I’ll ever get, I guess.

  She heads to my bedroom door, shaking her head. But she pauses with her hand on the knob, turning her head. “Just let her stay, will you?”

  I close my eyes, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. But make sure she stays away from the west side of the house. I don’t want her snooping around over here. Elena’s room and mine are off limits.”

  She nods once, lips pursed, before leaving the room.

  I turn back to my computer, intending to get some work done. But instead, I pull up the photo from StoneHaven Publishing’s website again. I stare hungrily at the headshot of Olivia Evans. Somehow, she’s managed to look sweet in the photo while still remaining professional. Without even realizing it, my hand strays to the screen, absently tracing the curve of her jaw. I wonder what her skin would feel like against my hands. She looks soft. So soft.

  My eyes drift to the monitor displaying the security feed.

  This is a fucking mistake.

  I watch as Adele takes the girl and shows her to her new room. I’m s
ure she thinks this mansion is a palace, but it’s more of a prison. Here, she’ll stay like the delicate doll that she appears to be, tucked away until I’ve decided to play nice. Play. My whole body aches to show her just how good I can be. I feel myself harden at the image of her locks lying against my satin covers. I’m a complete idiot for allowing some stranger into my home. She could sell my story to the papers.

  ‘World Famous Author Turns Monster After Car Crash’

  Guilt plagues me as I watch her slowly unbutton her shirt. I’ve taken my creepiness to a whole other level. The only thing I can think about now is watching her through grainy screens as I do my best to suppress the raging hard-on I have. My cock could use the action, but I’m fairly certain no amount of money could persuade her to get in bed with me. Not her. Not after seeing me. All of me.

  The truth is I’m lonely. It’s been two years since I’ve stepped out into the world. Christ, the closest I’ve come to it is my nightly run in the desert that surrounds my home. The darkness hides any twisted horrors outsiders might see, and the desert separates my world from any might be intruders. I swallow back the bitterness that crawls up my throat.

  I watch as Ms. Evan walks around the room, running her hands lightly over the furniture. A wave of longing runs through me as I wonder what it would feel like for those hands to touch me. What it would feel like to have those thick, powerful thighs wrapped around my hips. Or my head. My mouth waters thinking about my tongue on her pussy, her hips riding my face. God, it’s been too long since I felt the touch of a beautiful woman. My face hardens as I remember why it’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone. I’m broken. Damaged goods, literally scarred by all the poor decisions I’ve made in my pathetic excuse of a life. Olivia Evans would never want someone like me. Nor should she. She deserves someone whole, someone good. Someone who isn’t me.

  I turn my chair, heaving to my feet and stomping over to the bathroom. My self-pity may have soured my mood, but it can’t dampen my lust, apparently. I strip my clothes quickly, turning on the shower and cranking the temperature down as far as it can go. The cold water should help me shake this ridiculous, ill-fated attraction to my new houseguest. Besides, I can’t take steamy showers anymore, anyway. Something about being almost burned to death took the comfort and relief, out of scalding hot water, I guess.