All Chapters of His Beauty Her Beast: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Rowan's POVI shouldn’t have pushed her, but hell, the way she looked at me—half fire, half trembling—made it impossible not to. The air between us crackled like it was soaked in gasoline and I was the spark.“Elena…” I murmured, close enough that my breath stirred a loose strand of her hair. Her chest rose sharply, betraying how hard she was fighting to keep her composure. I almost smirked. Almost.“Y–you think you can just keep secrets from me?” she tried to snap, but her voice came out softer, shaky.I leaned in, close enough that my lips brushed her ear. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. I know.”She froze, her hands twitching against my chest as though she wanted to shove me away but couldn’t quite commit. My pulse hammered in my jaw, but I made it slow—calculated. I liked watching her unravel piece by piece.“You’re insufferable,” she whispered, but it wasn’t hate in her eyes. No, it was something rawer. Something that made my blood heat.“Funny”, I said, letting my thumb graze alo

Elena's POV The rest of my day felt… off. Like the universe had decided to tilt a fraction, just enough to make me constantly feel like I was leaning sideways. Everything around me looked the same—the paperwork stacked on my desk, the glowing blue of my computer screen, the muted murmurs of the office—but nothing inside me sat right. Rowan had been strange earlier, conflicted in a way I hadn’t seen before. Usually he was all sharp edges and cold calculation, like he’d been carved out of steel, but today… there were cracks. His father being in the building, the way his eyes kept drifting, the way his words had faltered—it all stayed with me. And me, sitting at my desk with my half-broken focus, I couldn’t shake it. I should have just been working. File after file, signatures, reports, numbers—boring, dry things I usually buried myself in to block out the rest of the world. Today, though, I caught myself staring at the same document for ten minutes straight without actually reading i

Elena's POV The first thing I felt was heat. Not the uncomfortable kind, but the gentle warmth of sunlight streaming across my face. I groaned and buried my cheek deeper into the pillow, trying to hide from it, but it was too late. My body was awake even if my brain protested. I cracked my eyes open, squinting at the golden slant of light cutting through my curtains. The air smelled faintly of coffee and… was that bacon? I frowned, sitting up slowly, stretching my arms above my head until I heard the satisfying crack of my spine. My hair was a tangled mess, my T-shirt twisted around my waist from all the shifting I must’ve done in the night. The memory of last night flickered in—Damon asleep on the couch, the way he had pulled me down beside him, the word stay whispered so unconsciously that it had rooted me in place. I rubbed my face, shaking off the strange warmth still lingering from that memory. No. Not going there. Not this morning. Dragging myself out of bed, I went to

Elena's POV The days blurred into each other, like someone had thrown me onto a rollercoaster without asking if I wanted the ride. Up, down, loop after loop—there wasn’t a moment to breathe. It felt like every time I tried to catch up, something new landed on my shoulders, and before I could deal with it, Nina was already calling my name again. Tomorrow was her wedding. Tomorrow. The word alone made my chest feel tight. It wasn’t even my wedding, and yet I’d been dragged into every last detail like I’d been hired as her unpaid planner. Nina was relentless. She didn’t want to just supervise—she wanted perfection. And I, lucky me, had somehow become her right hand, the one she leaned on more than anyone else these past few days. If she noticed a ribbon out of place, she’d call me. If the cake delivery was five minutes late, she’d send me to call the bakery. If her bridesmaids’ shoes didn’t all match in shade, she wanted me to fix it. It was exhausting. And yet… there was somethin

Rowan's POV The phone buzzed on the nightstand like an impatient insect and I fumbled it awake with one eye open. Nina’s name flashed bright against the dark, because of course it did. There are only two types of calls that pull me out of bed before noon: crises and family. Today it was both, wrapped neatly into a single shrill demand that I be somewhere, now.“Where are you?” Nina’s voice came over the line already halfway to a reprimand. She was efficient like that—authority bundled in a high, urgent cadence that could startle the sun into setting earlier than scheduled.“You’re a groomsman. Don’t make me come to your house.”“I’m awake,” I said, more to buy time than to be honest. The truth was the mattress owned me for the last twelve hours; I had let it keep me because sleep dulled the edges of everything, including the grinding weight of other people’s expectations.But I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and went through the familiar motions of detachment. A show