Beware of the Beast Read Online Free Page A

the company. They're of no value to me."
    Charlotte stared at him. "What do you mean?"
    "Exactly what I say. What possible use would I have for another house in London? But I would suggest you sold the comp any. You could always invest the money. I believe Faulkn er shares are quite viable."
    ''What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Charlotte could feel panic rising inside her again. "Every thing's yours, you know it is!"
    "No. Everything's yours. Only you are mine."
    Charlotte's gulping laugh was hysterical. "You can't be serious!"
    He straightened, his features hardening. " I trust we will not have to go through all that. I understand your solicitor made the position perfectly clear to you yesterday."
    "Perfectly clear? Perfectly clear?" Charlotte gulped again. "I won't marry you! I - I don't know you! And - and besides, I wouldn't marry the man who - who drove my father to kill himself!"
    " Ahl " He thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "So you've found out."
    "What do you mean? Found out?"
    "That your father's death was no accident, of course."
    Charlotte gasped, "You mean - you mean you can stand there and tell me coolly that my father committed suicide, knowing that you were directly responsible - "
    "I was not directly responsible," he interrupted coldly. "Was your father a machine? An automaton, controlled by my manipulations? No! He was not. He was a free and thinking individual. Gambling was second nature to him - "
    "No I"
    " - and the stakes were never too high for him I Good God, this isn't the first time he's gambled his soul away!"
    "What do you mean?"         
    "Never mind." He breathed deeply. "So - as I say, he chose to play. He knew the rules, as well as anybody else."-,
    "Oh, that's very easy for you to say, isn't it?" Charlotte^ stormed ,   her breasts heaving. "Do all murderers excuse themselves so easily?"
    Alex's eyes, which she had thought to be dark brown, were now almost black, and shaded by thick black lashes guarded his expression. "I am not a murderer," he stated quietly. "I! did not choose the stakes."
    "What do you mean?"         
    "I mean that like all addicts, your father needed one more, game - one more chance to win. He had nothing left, so - he \ chose you I"
    "I don't believe you."
    "I don't expect you to. Nevertheless, as you get to know me better, you will learn that I do not tell lies. Nor do I make rash statements which I cannot sustain. You belong to me, Charlotte, whether you like it or not, and you will marry me."
    "Why? Why me?" Charlotte's forehead and palms were damp, and she could feel the trickle of sweat at the back of her neck. "Am I so desirable? Or are you one of those men who prefer young girls?"
    If she had thought to arouse his anger, she was disappointed. A faint sardonic smile crossed his lips, and belatedly she recalled what Mr. Falstaff ad said about crossing swords with this man.
    "I have no preference," he said then, surveying her in a way which deepened her unease. "So long as you were not too repulsive and were capable of bearing a child, I had no objections."
    Charlotte gasped, "You mean - you would be prepared to make love to any woman, just to get a son?"
    "Oh, no, not any woman. You seemed eminently suitable. But I would hardly call the act we are to perform making love!"
    Charlotte stepped back from his cold cynicism. “But - there must be dozens of women who - who would jump at the chance..."
    "You flatter me." But he did not sound gratified. "How ever, the women who might, as you say, jump at the chance, are not the kind of women I would choose to be the mother of my son."
    "How do you know what kind of woman I am?"
    He shrugged. "The very fact that you are charing at your fate reveals a certain independence of character. I like that."
    Charlotte sniffed resentfully. "So - if I'd thrown myself into your arms, you'd have changed your mind?"
    "Such a hypothetical question requires no answer. We're wasting time. Are there