Beauty and the Beast Read Online Free Page B

welcomed her.
    “He took everything from me!” she bit out through clenched teeth. Even the eyes she saw the unwelcoming world from weren’t hers. Rage at the unfairness of life drenched her in gushes that threatened to drown her. As soon as she would reach the surface, another downpour would fall.
    Life with rage burning in her soul was new for Nefertiti, and she wasn’t sure how or if she could gain control over it. The time between her plastic surgery and her unveiling gave her time to figure out how to carve out a new way of life. Gaining control over the rage was a major reason she’d agreed to stay with Victoria. Bouts of rage attacked Bruce regularly, yet he had found a way to live with it. That was the place she longed to be, and he was the person who could teach her control.
    In an attempt to subdue the rage, she tried her old technique and searched for a brighter side, but found none. This sight her nurse told her she should be grateful for was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing—she could still see to do her art and appreciate the beauty out there. The curse—she could see people covering their shock as they entered her hospital room; she could see how uncomfortable looking at her made people; she could see children pointing and their mothers slapping their hands down; she could see that the world she loved no longer wanted her—and it hurt.
    A white Lincoln sped along the willow-lined private road toward the house. She crossed the room to the doorway and stood flush against the wall so she could see who entered, but be unseen herself. A short while later the doorbell chimes rang. Janis, an attractive, statuesque woman who wore a cream business pantsuit, rushed from the small office next to the entrance to open the door. Victoria had told Nefertiti that Janis was Bruce’s latest assistant and seemed to have real sticking power. Jealousy had Nefertiti wondering whether Janis was assisting Bruce with more than his work schedule.
    “Hello, I’m Catherine Dixon. I have a ten o’clock with Mr. Maxwell.”
    Nefertiti resisted the urge to lean forward so she could see who was on the other side of the door. Janis stepped back. “Oh yes, Ms. Dixon, he’s expecting you. Please come in. He’ll be down momentarily.”
    To Nefertiti’s chagrin, a gorgeous brunette dressed in a royal blue mini skirt and blouse walked through the door. Doesn’t he know any ugly people? Sheeesh. The woman’s short skirt gave Nefertiti the impression that Ms. Dixon wasn’t here on a typical business call. How the heck does s1he sit in that thing? You’d see all of her business. Even though Nefertiti also had the legs that could carry off an outfit like that, she’d never been so bold. Maybe Bruce is right; maybe I am a prude.
    The all too familiar anger returned as she traced the scars under her veil with her gloved finger. Neither short skirts nor any other fashion mattered now.
    “You may sit in my office and wait. Or,” Janis motioned toward the burgundy Louis XVI winged chairs flanking her office door, “you may have a seat out here.”
    “I’ll wait out here, thank you.”
    “Would you like a cup of coffee, tea, juice?”
    “No, thank you.”
    Janis nodded politely, then returned to her office.
    Arms crossed over her ample chest, the smile on Catherine’s face quickly faded into a frown as she took in the expanse of the entry.
    What is she up to?
    The forest green and burgundy checkered marble floor would be ideal for a good ol’ fashioned ball, thought Nefertiti. She’d placed in several ballroom dancing competitions; but with Master Bruce, she didn’t see this room ever coming to life with dance. Bitterness about her situation rose in her throat and left a nasty taste in her mouth. No more dances for me.
    Mysteriously-dark and dangerously-handsome, Bruce descended the wide curving staircase with ease. His goatee drew her attention to his mouth, the mouth she hadn’t tasted in ten years, yet she still