Beautiful Beast (Enchanted Fairytales) Read Online Free Page B

behind her, but in her mind it clanged as loud as a jail cell door.
    Mr. Stratford sat behind a mammoth desk that dwarfed the one at the bank. Other than the desk, the room felt entirely modern. He clicked away on a keyboard, which he only glanced up momentarily from as she came in, one finger lifted to ask her to give him a minute. The walls were lined with clearly expensive artwork, a bar to the side lined with several bottle of some kind of liquid that she guessed cost more per bottle than even her dad managed to drink all together in a year.
    “Come forward, Callidora.” She twitched at his voice, but moved toward his desk. She was surprised that he called her by her first name—by her entire horrible first name. “Sit,” he said, pointing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. These chairs were larger and by far plusher than those that sat in his office at the bank.
    “Meredith will get you settled in soon, but I wanted the chance to speak to you first.”
    “Meredith?” she asked.
    “The housekeeper. How was the ride here?”
    “Pretentious,” she answered honestly.
    One sharp sound of laughter came from him. “I apologize,” he said sarcastically. “Next time I’ll send a cab.”
    “Thank you, I’d appreciate that.”
    He grunted at her response. “After you’re settled in you can have some free time. You’ll meet Alexander tonight, after dinner.”
    “Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to say. She thought she’d be meeting him right away. Now she had longer to dread the meeting.
    “Dinner is at six o’clock sharp in the dining room. Meredith will show you where that is. Now. Do you have any questions for me?”
    “Uh, I guess. I mean, what am I supposed to do all day?”
    “You’ll be taking your lessons with Alexander, of course.”
    “You mean school?”
    His jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes skyward. “Yes, I mean school.”
    “What about the rest of the time? Am I supposed to . . . play with him, or take him for walks, or what?”
    Mr. Stratford’s jaw dropped at her words, and incredulous look crossing his face. “Tell me, Callidora—”
    “Calli,” she corrected. He completely ignored her, talking over top.
    “Just how old do you think Alexander is?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t really know.”
    “He’s seventeen.”
    “Oh.” She was surprised. “But he’s not normal, right?”
    Mr. Stratford’s jaw clenched tightly as he glanced down at his desk. His hands clamped together tight enough to cause them to turn white. Just about the time the awkwardness became alarming, he looked at her.
    “My son is normal in every way that counts. His mind is sharper than other young people his age.”
    Calli lifted one hand with her palm up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I thought . . .”
    “I know full well what you thought.” He took a deep breath, visibly relaxing. “Listen, Callidora, there isn’t anything wrong with his mental capacity. But he’s . . . scarred. His face is . . .” He pushed backward from the desk, striding around, angry again. “Just don’t stare at him, okay?”
    He opened the door and bellowed for Meredith.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Stratford,” she murmured as she passed him. He placed a hand on her arm.
    “Call me Winston. If we’re going to be living under the same roof, there’s no need for formalities.”
    “I’ll call you Winston when you call me Calli,” she said as she walked into the hall. He closed the door behind her with no response just as a woman came hurrying in from the doorway at the back of the entry.
    “You must be Callidora,” she said, taking Calli’s hands in her own.
    “Calli,” she corrected, smiling at this genuine woman. She was short, probably barely reaching five feet. Her gray hair piled on top of her head in a neat bun. She was round, her cheeks nearly smothering her eyes with her big, welcoming smile.
    “Calli, then,” she easily agreed. “My name is Meredith.”
    “Yeah, I know,” Calli said. “I think