This need inside of me, the possessiveness that I had instantly felt when I looked at Britta, could’ve knocked me onto my ass. I’d never experienced anything like it before, never even wanted to. Before my accident I’d kept to myself, focused on my business and growing it from the ground up. If I did take female company, it was brief. But that had been far and few between.

Then after the accident, the scars littering my body, my coldness and hatred for the shit around me consuming me, I’d stayed away from everyone and everything unless absolutely necessary. I worked from home, ran my multimillion-dollar business surrounded by my wealth and away from others. It worked well for me, always had, and I’d thought it always would…until she came into my life.

I should’ve stayed away from Britta, should’ve pushed any need or desire that I had for her out of my mind. It was best for her, better for everyone.

I hadn’t been with a woman in over a decade, and had no desire to be in a relationship or even have a random fuck. But even if I did reveal to her that I wanted her as mine, one look at my scars and she’d run the other way. It’s why I’d stayed away from her for these two weeks. I was afraid—which I wasn’t about anything in this godforsaken life—that she’d see who I was on the outside and know that I was a heartless bastard.

Which I was to most.

I was this recluse, shut out from the world because I wanted nothing more to do with it. I didn’t care if the scars now defined who I was, or if people were afraid of me because of my sharpness, the cold attitude I portrayed.

I was “The Beast” to them, as ugly on the outside as I’d grown on the inside.

This was who I was now, and there was no changing it.

It had been two weeks since she’d moved into the estate, and in those fourteen days I’d watched her, realizing she kept to herself and did her job. I should’ve talked to her, introduced myself awhile before now, but I wanted to see how she acted. I wanted to know her before I said one word to her.

But I was tired of waiting. I was done hiding in the shadows. It was time to make my presence known. I just hoped when she saw me, she could see past the physical imperfections and the hardness that I’d surrounded myself with.

I left my office and went downstairs. I normally took breakfast upstairs, but this morning was the start of me doing things differently—although I felt like I was coming out of my skin. I was uncomfortable and unsure, even in my own fucking house.

I stepped into the dining room, and two of the servants turned and stared at me. I could see the shock on their faces as they took me in. Many of my employees had never actually seen me, so no doubt I was a fucking surprise to them. The older man looked at the side of my face, his throat working as he took in the raised flesh. What made me want to crawl out of my skin was the attention people gave me. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to be unseen.

“Sir?” the other servant, a middle-aged woman, said, her voice low, her posture reserved.

“I’m eating in the sunroom this morning.” I said the words with a hint of a growl in my voice and turned and left. Truth was I only ever conversed with Carolyn and a select few employees.

Once I was in the sunroom, I sat and stared out at the grounds. It was early enough in the morning that frost still covered the grass. One of the servants set a newspaper in front of me along with a cup of coffee. I nodded without looking over at him. Who I wanted to see was Britta. I started bouncing my leg, this tightness covering my skin. I didn’t like this feeling, this nervousness…this anticipation that filled me.

“Mr. Foxwerth?” Carolyn’s voice was sharp, stern. Although that’s how she always spoke, no matter whom she was talking to.

I glanced over at her and saw the surprised look on her face. No doubt she was shocked to see me not in my office upstairs. Hell, I was too.

“I didn’t know you were dining downstairs. I would have had preparations made.”

I waved off her concern and looked back at the property. “Where’s the new girl?” I heard the huskiness in my voice, and there was no doubt Carolyn heard it as well. That was one of the reasons I’d hired her. Nothing got by her.

“The new girl, sir?”

“Yes,” I said with a bite to my voice. It sounded as if she might be questioning me wanting to see Britta. That, I wouldn’t fucking stand for.

“I believe she’s working in the kitchen. She’s got a very full day today—”

When I looked over at Carolyn, she stopped talking instantly. “Who are you talking to right now?” It was an obvious rhetorical question, and when I lifted my eyebrow, she pursed her lips and nodded.

“My apologies, Mr. Foxwerth. I’ll fetch her now.”

Carolyn left, and a moment later my breakfast was brought to me. Before the butler left, I said, “Bring another plate. I’m eating with a guest this morning.”

“Of course, sir.”

I leaned back, waiting until Britta and the second breakfast was at the table before I ate. I wanted her here with me, even if she’d think this was weird as hell.

“Sir,” Carolyn said from beside me, and I looked over to instantly lock gazes with Britta. She wore that hideous livery attire, one I wished she didn’t have on for the simple fact I didn’t want her working for me. She should be by my side, dressed in silk and lace, dripping with jewels.

Fuck, I’ve lost my mind.

“You can go, Carolyn,” I said but kept my focus on Britta. I had to give her credit; she didn’t stare at my scars but instead had her gaze locked with mine.

When Carolyn left, Britta took a seat across from me. The plates of food were in front of us, and I gestured for her to start eating. I could see how nervous she was, maybe even uncomfortable.

“Um,” she said as she glanced around the room. “I’m not sure if I should be—”

“You’re my breakfast guest. Don’t worry about anything aside from enjoying your meal.” I didn’t want to come across as coarse, but my personality had been like this for years. I tipped my chin toward her plate. I started eating, my focus on her, not because I wanted to make her feel even more uncomfortable but because I couldn’t help myself.

She was gorgeous, with light brown hair that hung to her shoulders, the strands looking like they’d be silk if I reached out and touched them.

I tightened my grip on the fork, trying to control myself, or I’d do just that. Finally she started eating, the silence stretching between us, the only sound in the room our silverware hitting the china. I was ashamed of my appearance, and I told myself internally I should have cleaned up more.

As it was, because I’d been isolated from the outside world for so long, I’d let my hair grow longer, had a full-on lumberjack beard, if I was being honest. Before my accident, my appearance had always been so sharp, always “boardroom ready.” Expensive three-piece suits, hair cut close to my head, freshly shaved daily.

I didn’t know how I was going to pull this off, how I was going to make her see that she belonged with me even if she knew nothing about me. But she would be mine, even if I had to tear down my empire to make it happen.