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S QUEALS ERUPTED INSIDE the kitchen the moment Mr. Flamme made his grand entrance. The women clapped their hands, and he bowed with a flourish to accept their adulation. “Ladies.”

They squealed anew as they converged around him, asking one question after another.

Had the master come to Arabella’s bedroom again?

What had he heard?

Had it finally happened?

The head housekeeper sighed at the girls’ insatiable curiosity. They all thought it terribly romantic that the master was wooing his lady from the shadows, and the older woman knew that in their minds it was but another Gothic love story unfolding before them, and that a happy-ever-after ending was guaranteed.

Oh, if only she could be as optimistic as they were.

Leaning towards Mr. Temps, who was calmly drinking his coffee beside her on the table, the housekeeper asked in a low voice, “What about you, sir? Do you think there is hope for our master?”

“Of course.”

Her eyes widened. “Really now.”

“Why are you surprised?” the butler asked. “Hope is not bound by the rules of reality or logic, Mrs. Bouilloire. Rather, hope exists wherever we want it to exist.”

The housekeeper frowned. “Then what are you really saying? That we can hope for the best but prepare for the worst?”

“That is a good suggestion, but more than that, I would say hope is also quite contagious. It won’t hurt if we put in a good word here and there about the master.”

****

“D INNER WAS LOVELY,” Arabella told the chef that night as she patted her lips with her napkin. Standing up, she said, “Thank you again, Mr. Aliment.”

“Would you like to have some coffee before you retire?” the housekeeper asked as she started clearing the table.

“Oh, umm, no.” She pushed her chair back in and smiled politely to soften her refusal. “I’m okay.”

She was already halfway to the kitchen door when she heard Mrs. Bouilloire ask, “Then tea perhaps, mademoiselle ?”

“Umm, no, I’m fine.” She smiled awkwardly. “So good night—-”

“What about dessert?” This time, it was the chef asking her. “It is your favorite type of éclairs, coated with blueberry with a hint of violets—-”

Oh, darn it.

Her mouth started to water, but—-

Arabella took a step back. “I really have to go.”

When the chef turned to face her again, he was already holding out the tray of desserts to her.

Oh dear.

She stared at it longingly. Perhaps a bite, or perhaps a slice—-

“Won’t you stay behind, mademoiselle, to enjoy this?”

Arabella managed to wrest her gaze away from the tray of temptation. “I would really love to, but I can’t.”

“Why are you in such a hurry, child?”

“Because, umm—-” As she tried to think of a plausible excuse, someone from the back of the kitchen started to giggle before the sound was abruptly cut off.

Hmm.

Her gaze narrowed.

Now that she thought of it, why was everyone suddenly interested in keeping her in the kitchen?

She looked at their faces one by one, and they all looked back at her ever so innocently.

“Quit acting, everyone. I’m not buying it.”

There was a moment of silence and then suddenly everyone started laughing and grinning at her – very, very slyly.

Nana sidled up to her, saying, “You tell us, mademoiselle. Why are you so in a hurry to leave?”

“Well—-”

“Perhaps it’s because the master is waiting for you in your room, oui ?”

“No!” Yes, oh God, that was exactly it, but how did they know?

Nana giggled when she saw the look of consternation on the American woman’s face. “Don’t be shy. It’s natural to behave like this with the man you like—-”

Arabella’s cheeks turned red. “I don’t like him. He’s my captor.”

“ Oui , that he is.” This time, Nana knew better than to gloss over the fact. “However, it does not mean the master cannot be something more than that, too, oui? ”

“We think you two make a great pair,” another maid said dreamily.

“Oh for God’s sake, I haven’t even seen him.”

“ Exactement, mademoiselle ,” a third maid piped in earnestly. “You already have stars in your eyes—-”

“I do not! Take that back!”

“Yes, you do, mademoiselle! Et c’est mervellieux!”

“Now you’ve lost me,” Arabella said bluntly.

The maid giggled. “What I mean, Ms. Blume, is that it’s wonderful for you to look like that when you speak of the master—-”

“Oui, oui,” the other young women of the staff chorused.

“And it is the same for the master,” one of the gardeners inserted. “I heard from Mr. Flamme and Mr. Temps, they were talking about how the master had changed and that he was no longer brooding as much.”

Now that was news. “Does he like to brood a lot?” she couldn’t help asking.

Everyone nodded.

“About Louise?”

The entire staff gasped, and even Mrs. Bouilloire appeared stunned.

“You know about her, my dear?”

She nodded slowly. “He told me about her – and that he had made her leave because the men who had killed his father had come after them, and he didn’t want her to be in harm’s way again.”

“Oh, Ms. Blume.”

To Arabella’s surprise, tears actually started to glisten in the older woman’s eyes. “Are you okay, Mrs. Bouilloire?”

The housekeeper sniffed. “I’m sorry for being emotional, but it’s only that I haven’t even let myself imagine that this day would ever come. And now it has—-” The housekeeper’s eyes brightened even more. “I am so, so very glad that you were the one who made the master open up, mademoiselle. ”

Arabella’s mouth opened and closed. She belatedly noticed how the whole staff was looking at her like she was the second messiah come to life, and it left her stumped. What would Jesus Christ do in this position?

Bless you?

She said finally, “It’s probably because...I don’t know, maybe it’s the whole strangers-in-the-dark thing. I’ve also found myself telling him things that I hadn’t told anyone else.” As she spoke, the younger girls of the staff actually released a collective aww, and her eyebrows shot up in alarm.

“Stop that! This is not an ‘aww’ moment.”

“I disagree,” Nana countered right away, a sly look in the woman’s eyes. “I think this is very much an ‘aww’ moment. The two of you have developed a bond, mademoiselle—- ”

“Oh, we do have a bond alright,” she quipped. “It’s called captor and captive.”

Ignoring that, Nana continued, “Now all you have to do is accept your feelings—-”

“Oui, oui!” The younger women had once again started speaking in a chorus.

Arabella glowered. “Go oui yourself,” she grumbled. “This conversation is so over.”

But everyone only laughed, and as she turned away, some of them even wished her luck, like she was heading to battle instead of merely hitting the sack.

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

More laughter, the sound of which made her ears burn and trailed after Arabella even as she ascended the stairs leading to her room. Darn Frenchies. She made it to the top of the tower in record time, and Arabella gave herself a pat on the back when she noticed that her breathing had remained regular the entire time.

It was such a far cry , she thought in amusement, from the first day Mr. Temps had shown her to her room.

But when Arabella entered her room and heard him speak-—

“ Bonjour, ma belle .”

That was the moment Arabella had to catch her breath. It had been so for some time now, and she hated it but she also couldn’t help it. “Bonjour ,” she said gruffly. Turning away from the shadows, she headed towards the bedside table and pretended to look for something inside the drawer when in truth, all she needed was time to regain her composure.

Nana’s sly teasing kept echoing in her mind, and Arabella’s teeth gnashed against each other. Nana was wrong. All of them were wrong. She was not excited to be with Aurélien, and it was certainly not true that she liked him.

Right?

When Arabella finally turned to face the shadows, she heard her mysterious billionaire ask, “Qu’est-ce qui se passé, ma belle?” His soft, accented words tickled her ears, and despite herself, she could feel a smile starting to tug at the corner of her lips. Fortunately, she caught herself in time and instead managed to ask irritably, “You know I don’t speak French, so why do you keep using it with me?”

“Because I know you have a fetish for it,” the beast answered simply.

“I do not!” Actually, she did, but the bad thing about it was that she had never known she had one – until she had heard him speak French.

“Je pense que c’est l’accent,” the beast murmured.

Inside her shoes, Arabella’s toes curled hard. Shit!

“I think,” the beast translated, “it’s the accent.” He then switched back to English, saying, “It is very sexy, oui ?” This time, the beast exaggerated its accent for the last word.

Arabella’s lips slowly pursed before moving left and right.

The beast laughed. By now, it knew Arabella very well, and it certainly knew the reason behind that adorable gesture of hers. “Give it up, ma belle. What you are doing is useless.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking—-”

“No matter what you do,” the beast interrupted in a lazy drawl, “you will always find my charm irresistible.”

“T-that’s not true.” But Arabella’s rosy lips were moving faster from left to right now.

“I rest my case.”

“Oh, shut up.” But this time, Arabella could no longer fight off the smile tugging at her lips. Dammit, dammit – why did she find this man so charming?

“That’s better,” the beast said as her lovely face broke into a smile. “Come closer to the fire, Arabella.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Come closer, s’il vous pla?t.”

And of course because he had used that magical accent of his, she found herself obeying his command. Even so, she muttered warningly, “Don’t think your accent will always get you what you want.”

To which she heard Aurélien answer oh so mildly, “ Je comprends .”

Her teeth gnashed. It was beyond obvious he was just humoring her, the ass.

As she folded her legs under her on the settee, the billionaire invited her to tell him about her day and of course she automatically said no, just to be contrary. “How do I know if you’re not watching me all the time like a perv?”

The beast only chuckled. “It would be my pleasure to be a perv with you, ma belle, but unfortunately I, too, must work.” The beast studied her intently, noticing that her gaze was still faintly troubled. “Something still bothers you. Why will you not tell me?”

“Because I don’t know how to say it.”

“Just say the words,” the beast said gently, “and I will take care of the rest.” But still, Arabella remained quiet. After a moment, the beast hazarded a guess, asking, “Is it your father?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. It’s not about him at all. Papa and I are okay, and I’m—-” She hesitated then admitted in a small voice, “When I asked you to let me speak to him last week, I didn’t really think you’d agree.”

“As long as it is within my power, ma belle, I will give it to you.”

“And I’m thankful, really thankful.” Her voice became just a little awkward. Arabella was only used to being affectionate with Maurice, but there was just something about Aurélien Sauvage that made her feel different. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to act sweet with him – and wasn’t that gross?

The beast was curious when Arabella suddenly started making faces. “Arabella?”

Oops. Realizing that she had lost herself in her thoughts, she said hastily, “Sorry, I was just...thinking about, umm, Maurice.”

“I see.” The beast didn’t believe a word of it, but he decided to humor her for now, knowing from experience that no amount of persuasion would get his Arabella to admit any vulnerability until she was ready – or she had no choice but to do so.

And usually, it was the latter.

She was delightfully and frustratingly stubborn that way.

“How is your father, by the way?”

“He’s great.” Relieved to have something neutral to talk about, Arabella went on eagerly, “I think he’s not as worried about us – I mean, about me.” She mentally kicked herself on the head. Us, Arabella? Really? There was no “us” between a captor and a captive!

“Anyway.” She cleared her throat. “He still hasn’t suspected anything, in case you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” the beast said truthfully. “You promised not to speak to him about me, and I trust you to keep your word.”

“And I have.” She wrinkled her nose. “Papa is still mourning the fact that I’m a mistress to a mob boss.”

“How, err, imaginative.”

“I had to make up an excuse about the whole hush-hush thing of my whereabouts, so it was either that or I’m having an affair with a married guy.” She then rushed to qualify, “I did let him know you were the nice kind of mob boss.”

“There is such a thing?”

Ignoring the amusement lining his voice, Arabella said with a sniff, “My lie, my rules.”

“I see.”

“Stop laughing at me.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” she said hotly, “ in your mind .”

“Oh, so you are not only mistress to, err, a nice mob boss, but now you are clairvoyant as well?”

“Shut up.”

And so he did, but only because instead of talking, Aurélien was now laughing his French ass off.

Her teeth gnashed. God, he was so—-

“Arabella?”

She only grunted in response, wanting him to know she was still annoyed with him.

Unfortunately, this only made the billionaire chuckle. “How delightfully childish.”

Arabella saw red. “You—-”

“Hopefully, you will show me more of this side of yours next time, but for now.” The beast paused. “I think we have used up enough time on small talk, oui ?” And before she could even think of a proper retort, the beast asked gently, “May we now speak of what has been troubling you all this time?”

Oh.

Lowering her gaze, she muttered, “That obvious, huh?”

“Only because I know you well,” the beast answered.

Arabella dug her nails into her palms. And there it was , she thought. The words pleased her. It had to. But it also highlighted what was so very wrong between them, exposed the unaddressed imbalance in whatever it was they had now—-

And until they didn’t fix that, then—-

“Aurélien.”

The beast’s head jerked up at the stiff way in which she spoke of its former name, and it asked grimly, “What is it?”

Arabella took a deep breath. “I want to see you.”