Beneath Beautiful Read Online Free Page A

don't go around sleeping with every woman I meet,” Cameron said, breaking the silence between them.
    Cassie glanced up for a fraction of a second. “Just every second woman.”
    “And is that so bad? I love sleeping with women. Don't you?”
    “I have no idea.” Cassie lifted her head now.
    “Really?” Cameron feigned surprise. “Maybe you should find out.”
    Cassie was about to object, but then realised he may very well be right. She took a deep breath. Between her sister and Cameron, there were a lot of suggestions being thrown at her lately. Suggestions that . . . well, weren't conducive to also thinking about work. Or finding an apartment. Or anything else she really should be doing. “What are you suggesting? Regarding this . . . sculpture? How would it all play out?”
    “You must tell me that,” Cameron answered evenly. “The time and the place are all up to you. But what usually happens is I would need to get to know you better. We could . . . I don't know . . . we could go somewhere. Do something. You could show me your England, if you liked.”
    This all sounded vaguely like a hugely expensive trip she had read about that Cameron had taken with one of his muses. To Disneyland, of all places. The pieces he had fashioned after that had been a dazzling mix of sculptures that at one angle looked like theme park rides and, at another angle, another sort of ride completely.
    “I . . .” Cassie started, and then decided upon another tangent. “Don't you need to get back to your studio in Manhattan? To your . . .” Part of her wanted to say floozies, as her mother would have, if she were still alive. Part of her hated herself for even thinking this. It was basically slut shaming, which was something she abhorred. Why was she picking a fight with this man who had just told her there was something inspiring about the way she sat in a cemetery, reading a classic novel? Why was she railing against that? “. . . your muses.” She finished her sentence off half-heartedly.
    “Not really.” Cameron looked at her as if he could read her every thought. “All of my friends are free to come and go as they please, whether they live with me or not. We're not beholden to one another, whatever you might have read in the papers.”
    “I'm sorry,” Cassie apologized. “It's just . . . a very big ask. When I don't entirely know what might happen. And the other thing is, my father . . .”
    “Is a Member of Parliament. I know.”
    Cassie reeled. Was there anything he didn't know? Was the man omnipotent? How did he know her father was an M.P.? What else had her grandmother's neighbors divulged?
    “Not to mention you're a children's author. And a young one, at that. What are you, twenty-one? Twenty-two?” Cassie nodded at this. She was almost twenty-two. “Or, should I say, you were a children's author, if Badger and Hare have truly been given their pink slip,” Cameron continued. “But you're right, it's a very big ask. Maybe weeks of time, on your part. But we would never do anything you weren't comfortable with; you do know that, don't you? You know you would always have complete control.”
    Cassie bit her bottom lip. She didn't know. Nearby someone dropped a cup onto a saucer, and with a start, she remembered she was supposed to be somewhere. “Oh, God. I'm late. I promised my grandmother I'd meet a friend of hers for lunch. She's only in Paris for a few days, and I said I'd show her around. I must run.” She stood up.
    “Of course.” With this, Cameron brought out a business card and a pen from his pocket. He scribbled something on the back and handed it to Cassie, standing up. “My cell. Why don't you think about what I've asked you, and call me? I mean it. I'd like to make this piece, but I can't do it without you. I take my work extremely seriously. If it couldn't be precisely what I'm thinking of in my head, there's no point. Without you, there is no piece. You decide whether it comes into existence