Her Beast, His Beauty

  Her Beast, His Beauty

  Jenika Snow

  HER BEAST, HIS BEAUTY

  By Jenika Snow

  www.JenikaSnow.com

  Jenika_Snow@Yahoo.com

  Copyright © November 2017 by Jenika Snow

  First E-book Publication: November 2017

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Cover Model: Victorio Piva

  Image Provided By: Wander Book Club

  Editor: Kasi Alexander

  Line Editor: Lea Ann Schafer

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Her Beast, His Beauty

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  Newsletter

  A Real Man Series

  Want More?

  About the Author

  Newsletter

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  Rofus

  From the moment I saw her, I knew I couldn’t let her go.

  For a decade I’d stayed secluded, my appearance and attitude frightening people, keeping them away. But I’d come to like that, grow stronger from it. And then she came into my life, a spitfire of a woman who challenged me and showed no fear.

  I should have sent her away for her own good, but I was too selfish to let her go.

  I wanted her as mine even though I didn’t deserve her.

  Britta

  I should have been afraid when he said I was his.

  His heart had grown hard and cold, his isolation making him hate the world. He thought people should fear him because of the scars he bore, but I found beauty in them. I was just the housekeeper, but I couldn’t help how I felt for him.

  Maybe he was a beast, a vicious animal hidden under a hard, powerful body. Maybe I should have run, but I knew he’d come for me, find me. Deep down, where I couldn’t lie, I wanted him to be mine.

  And that frightened me most of all.

  Warning: This is a sweet, fast retelling of Beauty and the Beast. But this isn’t the fairy tale you heard long ago. It’s packed full of hot, dirty bits that’ll make you squirm while you’re reading it. Don’t worry; it’s got that sticky-sweet Happily Ever After we all crave.

  1

  Britta

  I sat in the back of the cab and stared up at the massive mansion. It was out in the middle of nowhere, thick trees surrounding the home, with a long, paved driveway like a landing strip. I wasn’t going to lie and say I wasn’t nervous, even a little bit scared to go in. I looked down at the newspaper that I held on my lap, the classified ad for the housekeeping position circled in red. I’d called last week and had the interview set up for today, and although I didn’t know much personally about the owner of the home, I’d certainly done research.

  Rofus Foxwerth was a multimillionaire business tycoon. But the thing about him was he’d been isolated and secluded for the last ten years following a car accident. Although he was only a decade older than my twenty-five years, I envisioned this crusty old man who was bitter at the world and failing in health from being shut in.

  But I’d seen his pictures from before the accident as I scoured the Internet. He had been gorgeous, with short dark hair and blue eyes that seemed cold, calculating, but so very intelligent. I supposed you had to be smart as hell to be a millionaire and run a business.

  After the accident that left him scarred, no one had seen Rofus publicly for that entire time. What a sad, lonely life he must lead.

  But the thing about rumors was you had to take them with a grain of salt.

  I also didn’t really care if that was true or not. I needed a job, and the hours and pay—if I got this position—would ensure I could stand on my feet again given time.

  At the end of the month I’d be homeless. With the landlord of my rental about to sell, he’d only given me thirty days to find other lodging. On top of that, I’d been laid off my temp position and was currently living off the little savings I had left.

  And with no family that was close to me or willing to help me after years of no contact, I knew I was on my own. But I’d always been on my own.

  I pushed everything else aside and walked up the stone steps that led to the massive double front doors. I tightened my fingers around the strap of my purse, which hung from my shoulder, and lifted my hand, bringing my knuckles down on the door. My heart was thundering so loud, my nerves alive. I hoped I didn’t screw this up. This job would help me get out of the hole I’d dug for myself, keep me afloat.

  No, not keep me afloat. I’d actually be able to breathe.

  And when I couldn’t handle cleaning up after someone else, then I could move on. This was a stepping stone, just a speed bump in an otherwise long journey.

  It was only a second before the front door swung open and there stood an older woman. Her entire ensemble was dark as the night. Mary Jane pumps, black stockings, and an onyx-colored pencil skirt. Even her cardigan set was black. It looked like she was headed to a funeral.

  I must’ve been staring a little longer than necessary because she cleared her throat and I looked up at her, realizing I’d been gawking at her outfit.

  “I’m sorry,” I stuttered out quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. I was already off to a bad start. “I am…” It was my turn to clear my throat now. “I’m here for the interview.”

  The older woman looked me up and down and made this noise in the back of her throat. She moved to the side to allow me to come in.

  I stepped inside and heard the door shut behind me. I was too busy looking around to pay attention to anything else. The house was massive, but of course I already knew that from looking at the outside. Hardwood and dark granite made up the floor and trim work. Two staircases, on either side of me, curved upward to meet at the top landing.

  This place screamed of money, but what I noticed most of all was that it seemed void of life. It was cold, and that had nothing to do with the temperature.

  “This way,” the older woman said, and I turned to face her before following her toward an open doorway. The room she took me into appeared to be an office, with a large oak desk directly across from the entryway and bookshelves lining the entire wall behind that.

  Large, curved windows were on either side of the desk, and light filtered in, casting this glow around the otherwise lifeless room.

  “Have a seat, please.” The older woman took her place behind the desk, and I followed suit, taking a seat in front of her.

  I’d sent over my resume and the pertinent paperwork they’d requested prior to the interview. I could see she had a folder with my name written on it in front of her, and when she opened it, said papers were inside.

  For long moments she didn’t say anything as she went through the paperwork, reading about my employment history. I glanced around the
room, taking in the decor and furniture, which probably cost more than I would ever be able to afford in a lifetime.

  And then I noticed a small video camera stationed in the top corner of the room. But I didn’t think much of it. This was clearly a house that boasted expensive items. It made sense that the owner would want to make sure it was secure.

  “Miss…Carleson, tell me why you think you’d be a good fit for this position.”

  “Please, call me Britta.”

  She didn’t respond.

  I glanced at the woman again and straightened. I didn’t think you needed special training for a housekeeping position, but then again, this wasn’t just any maid job. This was working for Rofus Foxwerth. She glanced back down at my resume. “You don’t have any housekeeping experience in the last five years.” She ran her finger over the paper. “And a short employment stint at a motel cleaning the rooms back when you were in high school?” She looked up at me, and I could see this didn’t make her happy.

  “I don’t have a lot of experience in housekeeping, no, that’s true.” But it’s not like I need a degree to clean up after someone. “But I’ve been cleaning up after people my whole life, just not getting paid for it.” I smiled at my joke, but her lips pursed harder, and I sobered. Yeah, this woman clearly wasn’t the joking type.

  “I’ll be honest,” she said and leaned back. “I wouldn’t have called you in for an interview, but we need someone promptly, and we’ve had a lack of applicants.” She stared at me with her shrewd gaze again. “But it’s not my call. I’ll let Mr. Foxwerth know your qualifications—or lack thereof—and we’ll go from there.” She examined my paperwork again, and I looked away, feeling like I’d been scolded. I stared out one of the windows at the manicured landscaping. With the weather well into fall, there were leaves blowing around the not so vibrant green grass.

  The sound of the chair scraping along the floor had me turning my attention back to the older woman. She had my folder clasped to her chest as she stared at me.

  “I’ll speak with Mr. Foxwerth. Please wait here.”

  She left me alone in the room, and my focus went back to the camera. I felt as if the person on the other end was watching me specifically, which was an absurd notion, I knew, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I wasn’t sure why Rofus Foxwerth didn’t interview me personally, but maybe that was for the best. It’s not like I especially wanted to see the man who’d gotten the nickname “The Beast,” not just for the scars he bore, but for his attitude toward the human population as well.

  I was nervous as hell, and although I knew I’d probably never see the owner of this home—the man behind the rumors and speculations—a part of me was very curious about him.

  I was never one to live on the edge, and wanting to meet Rofus Foxwerth should have frightened me, not excited me more.

  2

  Rofus

  I leaned back in my chair and stared at the video monitor, watching the young woman who looked around my office, her eyes wide, her innocence clear. As soon as I’d seen her step out of the cab and stare up at my home, this need rose inside of me. I wanted her like a fiend, and that was a foreign feeling for me, one I didn’t know if I was comfortable with.

  “I want her.” I didn’t bother looking at Carolyn, even though I could feel her gaze on me.

  “Mr. Foxwerth,” she said, her voice low but hard.

  I turned around and faced her, clasping my hands together on top of my desk. I stared her right in the eyes, knowing what she was about to say but not bothering to stop her. Carolyn had been in my employment since I’d secluded myself a decade ago. I trusted her impeccably, but in this, regarding Britta, I would not be swayed.

  “She has no legitimate experience. She’s also extremely young. I don’t think—”

  I held my hand up. I leaned forward and braced my forearms on the desk. “I said I want her. Make it happen.”

  She opened her mouth and promptly closed it, knowing better than to argue with me.

  Carolyn nodded once before turning and leaving me alone in my office. I looked at the video monitor, staring at the woman I knew nothing about aside from what I’d heard in this short time span. Hell, I hadn’t even read her resume. I left all of that up to my employees, trusted them in hiring someone who would fit well in the house. But even if this young woman couldn’t sweep up the floor to save her life, I would’ve still hired her.

  I would have still wanted her.

  I’d never felt this kind of rush before, never felt the blood moving through my veins at such a rapid pace. Even before the accident I’d never wanted somebody as much as I wanted Britta, and I hadn’t even been in the same room with her.

  But I wanted her.

  And I’d have her.

  Britta

  One week later

  I stared up at the house, not believing I was actually here. Last week when I’d come for the interview I honestly hadn’t expected to get the position. The woman I’d spoken to, the one who told me she was named Carolyn, had seemed extremely uptight and not the least bit impressed by me. But then she’d come back from wherever she’d gone off to, offered me the position right then and there, and told me to report back to the estate today.

  The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, seeing as I had to be out of my place anyway. I glanced down at the bags by my feet. I’d packed a few suitcases of clothes and a bag with personal items that I didn’t want to part with for an undetermined amount of time. Everything else was in a small storage facility.

  The front doors opened, and there stood Carolyn, along with two men dressed in butler attire. One of them came to where I was and grabbed my bags.

  “This way,” he said without emotion in his voice.

  I followed him up the steps and into the house. They were silent, cold, and slightly distant as they led me down the hallway on the first floor, taking a couple of turns, and then finally showing me where I’d be staying.

  “You have today to get acquainted with the house and the procedure manual, which is on your bed. Tomorrow, orientation will start, where you’ll be shadowing one of the other housekeepers. By the end of the week you’ll be on your own, so pay attention,” Carolyn said, her voice stiff, her posture matching.

  “Will I be meeting with Mr. Foxwerth at some point?” I didn’t know if I really wanted to, because maybe it wasn’t smart. But part of me wanted to meet the man I’d be working for, the man who held so much mystery behind him.

  “If Mr. Foxwerth wants to meet you, he will. He’s a very private man.” And with that, she turned and left me alone.

  I shut my bedroom door and turned around to lean against it. I stared at the room, feeling a little bit strange that I would be staying in a house where I hadn’t even met the owner. This was a good thing, though—at least I kept telling myself that.

  I was nervous, and all I’d be doing was cleaning up. But I needed to do this job well. I needed the money, and I needed to stay here until I got on my feet.

  When I pushed away from the door, I walked over to the bed. It was large, with a light blue down feather comforter and matching embroidered pillows covering it. The room itself seemed almost plain in comparison with the rest of the house, but I actually liked that, preferred it that way. I would’ve felt very awkward if it had been filled with expensive items.

  I walked over to the window and pushed aside the curtain. The view was fantastic, overlooking lush, manicured grounds despite the fact it was creeping into winter territory. I could even see a sunroom off to the side. I’d never known what this kind of life was. I’d never known this kind of wealth or how the other side lived.

  The closest I’d ever gotten was cleaning up after them.

  But as depressing as that thought was, I didn’t mind it. This was just a stepping-stone to my future.

  Besides, how hard could this job actually be?

  3

  Rofus

  Two weeks later

  This need inside of me,
the possessiveness that I had instantly felt when I looked at Britta, could’ve knocked me onto my ass. I’d never experienced anything like it before, never even wanted to. Before my accident I’d kept to myself, focused on my business and growing it from the ground up. If I did take female company, it was brief. But that had been far and few between.

  Then after the accident, the scars littering my body, my coldness and hatred for the shit around me consuming me, I’d stayed away from everyone and everything unless absolutely necessary. I worked from home, ran my multimillion-dollar business surrounded by my wealth and away from others. It worked well for me, always had, and I’d thought it always would…until she came into my life.

  I should’ve stayed away from Britta, should’ve pushed any need or desire that I had for her out of my mind. It was best for her, better for everyone.

  I hadn’t been with a woman in over a decade, and had no desire to be in a relationship or even have a random fuck. But even if I did reveal to her that I wanted her as mine, one look at my scars and she’d run the other way. It’s why I’d stayed away from her for these two weeks. I was afraid—which I wasn’t about anything in this godforsaken life—that she’d see who I was on the outside and know that I was a heartless bastard.

  Which I was to most.

  I was this recluse, shut out from the world because I wanted nothing more to do with it. I didn’t care if the scars now defined who I was, or if people were afraid of me because of my sharpness, the cold attitude I portrayed.