Page 2 of The Beast

But at least I know it looks real. Back when David and I were both thirteen, we decided that we needed to know how to kiss, then practiced on each other until we got it down. We’d planned to be each other’s firsts in bed, too, but Gabriel got that honor when I turned sixteen. He’d been eighteen, and we were desperately, wildly, in love.

“Don’t you two make the most stunning couple?”

I look up to see Mina, my father’s air-headed assistant and long-time sidepiece, smiling at me. The kind of smile that actually says fuck you.

Considering my trust fund was established by my mother before she died—so it’s nothing Mina can get her hands on even if my father does deign to marry her—I assume her dislike for me today stems from the fact that my engagement/wedding present is this hotel/casino, whereas her last gift from Daddy Dearest was a simple necklace with only one rather small diamond on a pendant.

“There’s the happy couple!” My father’s voice cuts through my thoughts and the room like a blade, and a second later, he materializes at my side, smiling in a way that somehow manages to be both charming and full of warning. To anyone watching, it probably looks affectionate. It’s not.

It’s a reminder that even though this day is the first step in getting out from under my father’s thumb, he still has the power to screw up my life. So I better keep the Hart Industries Rules for Oppressed Daughters firmly in mind.

Fortunately, this is a role I’ve been playing for all of my twenty-eight years, and so I flash a smile of delight and charm, then lean forward and kiss his cheek. “Daddy, the party is wonderful. David and I are humbled by how lovely it is.”

I glance around, then fight a sigh of relief when I see that David hasn’t wandered away. On the contrary, he’s coming closer, and a moment later, his hand slides possessively around my waist. And why not? He knows the expected script as well as I do.

“It really is an exceptional party,” David says. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Only the best for my daughter and son-to-be.” His smile is camera-ready, perfectly calibrated so that the society photographers positioned strategically around us can capture this warm and lovely family moment.

Yes, sarcasm is one of my many talents. Unfortunately, standing up to Father is not.

“David,” Father says. “I believe your parents are looking for you.”

David’s eyes meet mine in a glance so fleeting I’m positive Father didn’t even notice. And if he did, he certainly didn’t read the unspoken message—you okay if I leave?

I give him a slight nod, and he leans close, then kisses me on the cheek. “Another for the Press,” he whispers. “And for good luck with whatever your old man has up his sleeve.”

I just smile and squeeze his hand, then watch as he heads to his parents, leaving me with my father. In other words, lost and alone, despite this ballroom filled with over four hundred people.

“You should be owning this room, Isabella,” Father says, his voice pitched low to avoid prying ears. “The press is here, along with our peers. Not to mention those who would like to see a Hart slip so that they can rise by climbing over our broken backs. This is a good marriage—but as for the consideration to which we agreed…”

I stiffen. He’s talking about the hotel. As of tomorrow morning, I’m the new manager. And upon our actual marriage, I’ll become the fully-vested owner.

It’s all on paper, documented and negotiated with at least as much fervor as the founders negotiated the Declaration of Independence.

Too bad my father is far less trustworthy than those men, and I fear that if I do anything to make my father look askance, he’ll pull the Monarch Grand Casino right out from under me. All of it. Which would mean losing access to the hotel’s tenants as well. Specifically, the high-end shops and restaurants on the mezzanine.

If that happens, I’ll lose La Galerie LaBete—and that’s something I don’t think I could survive. Gabriel and I started that business. A dream we shared. And just the thought of losing it brings tears to my eyes. I mean, sure, I could find another location. But that space is where we started. Where we spent hours painting the walls and putting in the flooring. Where we made love on the lumpy couch in the storage room, and where I’d often snuggle under a blanket, getting cozy as I watched him stand shirtless at an easel as he lost himself in his art.

“— the crown jewel of the Hart empire.”

I stiffen. “Pardon?”

Father’s mouth curves into a frown. “I said that I expect you to make this hotel a shining jewel.”

“Of course, I will, Father. You trained me well.”

He didn’t, of course. Not unless yelling and tearing down and criticizing without any constructive suggestions can be considered teaching.

But operating this hotel/casino has been my goal since Gabriel died. That’s when I knew I had to grow up. When I understood that I both wanted and needed to succeed.

All of which is why I’ve spent the last four and a half years working in various capacities throughout my father’s empire. But now school’s over.

All that’s left is to marry my best guy friend, locking us both into a life we don’t actually want, but which wins us both some hefty benefits.

“The admin team will want to meet soon to go over your management plan,” my father continues. “I expect you to be prepared. The transition needs to be seamless.”

“Of course, Father. Anything else?”