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“You left the island?” she blurted out.
The beast’s lips twisted. “No, ma belle. I have never left the island, and I do not foresee this…changing anytime soon.”
She couldn’t help shaking her head, thinking that Aurélien Sauvage was the first billionaire she had ever known who was disinclined to travel. “Are you afraid of flying? Or acrophobic or something?”
“Or something,” was all the mysterious billionaire would say.
In other words, Arabella thought, he wasn’t willing to tell her the truth. She supposed that was better than him outright lying to her.
“Are you sleepy?”
She knew she should say yes, just to give him a dose of his own medicine, but instead her lips formed another one-syllable answer. “No.”
“I am happy to hear that, ma belle. I have been looking forward to your company all night.”
“H-ha.” Arabella had wanted that to come off as scornful, but again she ended up disappointing herself, with the sound coming off as breathlessly excited instead. Darn it.
As she headed to the settee, she heard Aurélien murmur, “I missed you.”
The three words took her completely by surprise, and she almost tripped over her own feet again. Double darn. As she took a seat, she heard him ask, “Did you miss me, too?”
Arabella’s heart slammed against her chest. “No, I did not.”
“But you must have at least thought of me?”
“Not at all.” Her cheeks flamed at the lie, and Arabella quickly turned her face towards the fire, not wanting him to see her reddened cheeks from the shadows.
There was a pause and then—-
A soft, lazy chuckle that had her body experiencing that peculiar type of shiver, one that made her whole being tremble…because of too much heat.
“So you have missed me then.”
“I told you,” she gritted out. “I didn’t.”
“It is nothing to be ashamed of. I am sure I missed you more.”
“H-ha.”
“And I also promise that it will not happen again. If I am unable to visit you, I will make sure to let you know in advance.”
“I don’t care if you don’t visit me,” she growled hotly, “okay?”
“I hear you, ma belle. There is no need to shout.”
Arabella grimaced, realizing that she had indeed ended up yelling. “Sorry,” she muttered ungraciously. “But it’s your fault, too. You just make me so—-”
“Mad?”
“Yes!”
“About me?”
“Yes—-” Then she realized that she had fallen for a trap. “I mean, no. I am not mad about you—-”
“But you just said yes, you were mad about me.”
“Shut up,” she snarled. “I meant to say I was mad at you, not about you, and you know it.”
“Mm. The only thing I know is that you said you were mad about me.”
And so it continued for the rest of the night, with Aurélien Sauvage somehow always managing to get the last word. They argued and bantered, and though she would never admit this either, she had so much fun…she forgot to even think of convincing him to let her go.
That night soon proved to be the basis of what would be a routine between them, and it was one that Arabella would come to secretly and shamefully enjoy. During the day, she was kept busy by the staff, with all of them eager to show her the rest of the island. On one day Mr. Temps had given her a tour of the sugar factory, on another it was the flamboyant Mr. Flamme, who had taken her to the private side of the island, to a pristine-looking beach that only members of the Sauvage family and their guests were allowed to access. The day after that it was Mrs. Bouilloire, who had then taken Arabella to the town proper and began introducing her to the locals as the master’s guest.
She had given the older woman a droll look at that, but the housekeeper simply pretended not to notice it. Not wanting to make a scene, Arabella decided to just let it be and focused on getting to know the locals. They were all warm and friendly, but the curiosity that gleamed in their eyes was unmistakable – and so were the shadows that flickered in their gazes once in a while. And most intriguing of all was this French term that kept coming up when they thought she couldn’t hear them.
La Bête Sauvage.
She had absolutely no idea what it meant, but when she asked Mrs. Bouilloire about it, the housekeeper only shook her head, saying, “It is nothing worth your time.”
That only made it even more peculiar, but by now she knew better than to try pressing Mrs. Bouilloire for details. This island had a lot of secrets, and practically everyone was determined to keep them from her. It was frustrating as hell, and it would probably have driven her up the walls if not for, well, that little distraction she had every night.
And by that she meant Aurélien Sauvage.
