Isabelle and the Beast (Once Upon a RomCom #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

ISABELLE

T his is how I die: driving up a steep road with narrow twists and turns, set to the soundtrack of The Sound of Music . It’s almost too ironic that the Mother Abbess is singing “Climb Every Mountain” as I slowly make my way up this ridiculous road.

“I hate my dad,” I mutter to myself, gripping the steering wheel even more tightly. It’s all his fault I’m endangering my life, driving up this winding mountain road to the giant mansion where Adam Stone, Hollywood movie star turned pariah, has been hiding for the last eight months.

I’m not nervous about meeting him just because he’s a celebrity. I’ve been surrounded by famous people my whole life. My dad, who’s a manager for a few big names in Hollywood, has brought his clients around our family home ever since I was a little girl. And my much-older sisters are supermodels, known around the world for their poise and beauty. So meeting a household-name actor shouldn’t shake me up as much as it does.

But this is Adam Stone . Hollywood hothead. The former star who punched fellow actor Tristan Jackson last fall on the red carpet of the Goldie Awards and then…disappeared.

I’m going to suck it up and be brave, though. Because now, I’m one of my dad’s clients. And I finally have the chance to score a leading role in a movie. Granted, it’s a cheesy rom-com for one of those family-friendly channels, the Family Entertainment Network. But I’ve been trying to get a role besides “Barista #3” for years, and this is my chance.

And who do they want to star alongside me?

Adam Stone.

As terrified as I am of him and his reputation, having a huge name like his next to mine would do incredible things for my career. It hasn’t been easy getting a role that fits my “quirks,” as my dad likes to say. Most casting directors like to say I’m pretty enough (gotta love how superficial show business can be), but that my personality is a little too “whimsical” and “unconventional.”

So finally, FINALLY, I fit the role, and it’s actually to be the lead.

Now I just have to convince Adam Stone to do it with me. I’m sure the producers could find some lower-named actor to play my love interest, but they really want Adam. Something about making the Family Entertainment Network seem like a more legitimate production company.

But convincing him to do the role will be a task in and of itself. My dad, who is both Adam’s manager and mine, asked him to take the role, and Adam said he’d consider it, under one condition:

That I come up to his secluded mansion and meet him myself.

Shouldn’t be a huge deal, right? Except that Adam Stone has been hiding at this giant “castle” for almost a year, immediately after he punched a fellow actor in the face at the Goldie Awards .

No one has seen or heard from him since.

So…yeah. I’m a little nervous. And this winding road on the edge of a mountain isn’t doing anything to allay my fears. But it’s just a quick meeting, and my dad reassured me that there was nothing to be afraid of, so here I am, being brave and handling the situation like a big girl.

The temperature has been dropping steadily as I’ve driven higher and higher. When I left my apartment in LA this morning, hugging my best friend and roommate Jen goodbye, it was a typical May morning—somewhere in the mid-sixties. A few hours later, I arrived at the bottom of this ridiculous mountain, on the outskirts of Brookhaven, California, and it was seventy-five degrees. Now, at three in the afternoon? It’s forty-eight degrees.

“It’s the middle of May,” I say to no one but myself. Although I swear sometimes my car, Philippe, can hear me.

My GPS connection disappeared about twenty minutes ago, but according to the original estimates, I should be there in about ten more minutes.

As I’m contemplating my life decisions, I see white flakes falling from the sky.

“Is that…snow?” I gasp. In answer, Philippe decides to skid on the road. Not a huge amount, but enough that I grip the steering wheel a little tighter and slow down more than I already was. Philippe is not built for snow. He’s just a Honda Civic with street tires. As long as I make it to the top of the mountain in the next few minutes, I think I’ll be all right.

I try not to blink, keeping my eyes open every second so I don’t accidentally make a wrong turn. The snow keeps coming down, thicker and thicker, and I’m starting to panic. It’s early May. How on earth is there a snowstorm in Southern California in May?! I know Big Bear gets snow in the winter, but this far into spring seems pretty far-fetched .

My breathing is shallow, and I feel like I might start crying when I turn and see a giant stone building just ahead through the trees. I exhale, blowing through my lips, and now I almost start crying out of relief. I made it. I didn’t die.

A forest surrounds the castle, and trees line the path on either side of my car. The enormous building looks like it’s straight out of a Jane Austen novel, made from gray stone with turrets and towers. There’s even stained glass on some of the side windows.

Slowly, I drive closer and into the circular driveway surrounding a fountain that must be in use when it isn’t snowing. Which should be now. Because, after all, it’s May.

A lithe man wearing a long peacoat and gray scarf stands at the front entrance, so I pull the car up to him and turn it off. He gingerly steps around my car to open the door for me, letting the freezing air rush into my car, causing goosebumps to rise on my bare arms.

“Hello, Ms. Lovett,” he says. “Thank you for visiting us here at Stone Castle.”

“Thank you for having me,” I reply. I quickly slip on my heels—they were too tricky to wear while driving, so I made the trip barefoot. He offers me his hand, and I take it, carefully stepping out of the car and into the snow piled about an inch high. “Is it supposed to be snowing?”

He lifts his mouth in a half-grin. “They say the weather at the castle reflects the disposition of its resident.”

My eyes widen. Say what?!

“But that’s just a myth,” he continues. “We occasionally get snowstorms in May. It’s just the altitude.”

“Oh.” It still seems very unusual, but I’ll take his word for it. I shiver lightly, not expecting the snow and therefore not wearing anything snow-appropriate. My deep purple tank top with black slacks and stilettos is not the right getup for this climate.

“Let’s get you inside,” he says. “I’m Lionel, Mr. Stone’s butler. I take care of the goings-on in the castle. If you need anything while you’re here, I’ll be at your service.”

“I won’t be here more than a few hours,” I say. “But thank you for your offer.”

He presses his lips together in a small smile. “As you say.” He guides me up the giant stone steps to the front door. “Careful, these can get slippery.”

I guess wearing stilettos was an extra bad idea today. I’m cautious about taking deliberate steps to avoid any major injuries. When we reach the front double doors, Lionel lets go of me and opens the one on the right. “Please come in. I’ll show you to the study. We have a fire waiting for you.”

“We?” I repeat. “You and Mr. Stone?”

“Oh, not just us. There are many other employees who live here. You’ll see.”

I nod, stepping into the castle and wiping my feet off on the giant Oriental rug marking the entrance. I take a moment to look around, trying to understand my surroundings. Unfortunately, a lot of the lights are out and it’s nearly pitch-black in here.

“Why is it so dark?” I ask.

“Mr. Stone prefers the lighting to remain dim,” he replies, shutting the door behind us and grabbing a candle from the wall.

Where the heck am I? I feel like I’ve stepped through a time portal into the fifteen-hundreds. How completely wild.

“This way,” Lionel says, leading me to a room on the right. I catch a glimpse of a grand staircase, wide with ornate railings leading up to the second story. We step inside the room, and just like he said, there’s a giant fire roaring in the fireplace. I scurry over as quickly as my heels will allow and stand as close as possible without burning myself, rubbing my hands together to get warm.

“I’ll bring you a blanket. Would you like some slippers as well?” Lionel asks.

“Slippers?” I look down at my feet, debating if I want to feel warm and comfortable or if I want to maintain the professional appearance that I think will be more convincing to Adam. Slippers sound incredible, but I’m on a mission. I need to convince Adam to star in this movie with me, then get the heck out of here, and I’m sure having some fuzzy bunnies on my feet won’t be a point in my favor.

“No, thank you,” I finally say. Even I can hear the disappointment in my voice.

“Later, perhaps,” Lionel says. “I’ll go find Mr. Stone and be back shortly.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

He leaves, and I keep rubbing my hands in front of the fire, looking around the study for clues about Adam and his family. But it’s too dark to see much beyond the faint outline of a few paintings on the walls and a bookcase, and a pair of wingback chairs behind me by the fireplace.

Adam started acting about four years ago, but his career took off as soon as he began. My best friend and roommate, Jen Park, and I have made a point of seeing every one of his movies because…well, let’s be honest. He’s ridiculously good looking. He’s got a rugged, masculine energy that just makes you believe he’ll carry you to safety while a building explodes behind him. And yes, that was a scene in one of his recent movies. So, while action flicks aren’t typically my thing, they are when Adam Stone is starring in them.

But he’s got a reputation—and not a good one. Demanding, self-centered, and grouchy have all been used to describe him on set. To my dismay, my dad confirmed that yes, he’s kind of a jerk.

Still, I’m willing to look past it all for the sake of my own career. This is finally my chance to make it big, and I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Lionel returns with a blanket, which I accept gratefully and wrap around my shoulders, and then I’m alone again. I rehearse my introduction silently, a big smile on my face to disarm him from the start. Hi, I’m Isabelle. It’s really nice to meet you. Thank you for having me come to your family’s estate; it’s lovely here. No, I won’t mention that I almost died driving up the road. I’m so honored that Fred Armstrong thought of having me act alongside you! I hope we’ll ? —

My rehearsal is cut short by the door banging open. I jump in surprise, dropping the blanket to the ground, then look over at the door and let out a yelp.

Because standing in the doorway…

Is a giant beast.