Prologue: Forbidden Rose

"We are destined to be in love forever." Those were the words inscribed on the exquisite knives she had given him. For one single perfect moment in time Arthur had believed it. Though an odd gift from a lover, Arthur appreciated the knives. They made his competitive culinary classes a little less challenging. Preparing fantastic cuisine was Arthur's passion, and his lady had been the only one who truly understood that. Her encouragement and support were just two of many reasons he missed her so much. She seemed his perfect match, but not in the cheesy finish each other's sentences manner. She was his match in more meaningful ways.

They didn't agree on everything, but this created a sense of balance, rather than conflict. Her mere presence made Arthur strive to be a better man, and now he felt like he'd lost everything. She was gone and Arthur was left to reassemble the shattered pieces of his life.

He wistfully rubbed his thumb over the engraving: a broken promise of eternal devotion. Was she right, Arthur asked himself. Was there such a thing as destiny? If so, did that mean he was cursed to endure the pain of her loss forever? Arthur had so many unanswered questions wearing away at him like an acid.

Despite the corrosion of his soul, he willed himself to slice poultry with the very knives she left in his heart. The cold wet sensation of chicken at his fingertips became a much-needed distraction. After all Arthur had been through, he still did not regret his decision to attend school here. The gleaming stainless steel kitchen at the culinary institute was the closest to a home Arthur had ever felt.

Of course, he grew up in a house with a mother, father, and brothers but it never truly felt like home. He didn't fit in with his family and felt judged by them at times. The steel hoop in his lip and the tattoos hidden beneath his sparkling white chef's coat were just a few characteristics that set him apart from the straight-laced Christian family he left behind in England.

When the opportunity presented itself to study abroad in Spain, Arthur couldn't pass up the chance to escape the mundane and learn something spectacular. Spain seemed a decade ahead of the rest of the world in culinary arts. This exclusive program received thousands of applications a year and they only accepted forty students. It was a miracle that Arthur got in, and he'd never been one to just throw away a miracle.

The aspiring chef packed a bag small enough to carry onto a plane and the only item that bore meaning to him: a photo of a small girl. The kid was Arthur's niece, Sefa, a rambunctious six year old, who was the one relative who absolutely adored him. In the photo on his keychain she was dressed in a chef's hat and apron, prepared to make Play Dough pizza. After watching Ratatouille, a film about a cartoon rat who became a master chef, Sefa decided she wanted to be just like Uncle Arthur… much to the family's dismay. Arthur spoke his mind without a filter and partied too hard sometimes. He was not the sort of guy that most would consider a role model for small children, but in Sefa's eyes he could do no wrong.

Arthur's lover had been another fan of his blatant honesty. It was refreshing to know she had one person in her life that would always tell her the truth. She felt like most people wore fake smiles while spreading polite lies. She often told Arthur that she valued their relationship because truly genuine people were hard to come by. Most days Arthur could not fathom how things could have gone so terribly wrong when they'd been so happy together.

The aroma of exotic herbs and spices whirled around the kitchen as Arthur chopped his vegetables that morning. The tapping of his knife against the cutting board added to the ambiance of sizzling skillets and boiling pots.

He was fiercely dedicated to his craft, determined not to allow his heartache to destroy him. Arthur had flown halfway around the world for this opportunity, and he was not going to piss it all away.

Culinary students weaved in and out of a steamy atmosphere, working diligently on their projects. They crafted entrees so delicate it required the use of tweezers and various instruments. This demanded the concentration and skill of performing surgery. Each plate became a work of art. Anything less than a masterpiece resulted in a public crucifixion by the culinary professors.

Arthur struggled to focus on the task at hand and remain off the professor's ass-chewing list, but he remained distracted by memories of the strangest relationship he'd ever had. She was smart, talented, and beautiful, but loving her would come at a deadly price. She was his forbidden rose…

Chapter 1: Be Our Guest

Exactly one month ago Arthur and his girlfriend, Gwen, were snuggling on his couch. She was tall for a girl, with midnight curls, and chocolate brown eyes. Her skin was tanned, a sharp contrast to his own ivory complexion. He was grateful that she spoke English, even though she did so with a heavy Spanish accent.

They were watching Beauty and the Beast. His choice of movie struck her as odd for a grown man: a cartoon with singing furniture. Arthur explained that his niece loved the movie and he watched it whenever he missed her. This was only half true. Arthur had always loved the fairytale because of the fabulous French cuisine and the characters. He admired Belle's strength, bravery, and patience to love a man others deemed unloveable. He loved Belle's determination to make the Beast a better man. Arthur had always valued strong women, with big hearts, who cared about other people.

Gwen valued those same traits in a man and she was delighted every time Arthur cooked for her. She thought it sweet and considerate. He was truly gifted and the only person on earth she interrupted her strict diet for. Her job demanded flavorless food and an abundance of exercise, but Gwen made exceptions for Arthur.

Gwen snacked on a handful of buttery popcorn and snickered to herself. Arthur was singing quietly to Be Our Guest and he could not have looked more adorable if he tried. The jig was up. He was busted. It was clear that this tattooed rebel personally enjoyed the fairytale.

Gwen didn't have the heart to tell Arthur how much she truly loathed Beauty and the Beast. It was not a love story in Gwen's opinion, just a shitty tale about a girl with Stockholm Syndrome. The Beast imprisoned Belle, made himself her master, and controlled her comings and goings. He even dictated when she was allowed to have food, and grew furious and blew up when his servants fed her without his permission. The Beast yelled, screamed, and intimidated Belle and all of this was okay because there were singing cups and plates. Gwen couldn't understand why people applaud at the end of the movie when Belle ends up with this jerk. They might have been singing Be Our Guest, but Belle was just a prisoner.

The thing that repulsed Gwen most was how Disney shamelessly and recklessly marketed this crap to children. This movie taught dangerous concepts. It trained little boys to believe it's acceptable to treat women in this manner. It told little girls that control and love were one and the same. Instead of seeking a good man to spend your life with you should seek out a beast, because you can always change him, right? It taught them that it's okay for a man to imprison you and control every aspect of your life. Gwen knew from her volunteer work and the various charities she ran that women's shelters, hospitals, and morgues were full of naïve girls who thought they could change a beast. But sweet Gwen refused to break Arthur's heart as he sang along to the cartoon, with a childlike glimmer in his eyes.

"You're such a child," she spoke in that alluring Spanish accent of hers. "Do you have a true life Belle waiting for you back in England?"

Arthur shook his head no. "I came close a few times, and have the tattoos to prove it, but it didn't last."

She leaned away from him with a suspicious glare. "Am I to become the next unfinished story on your arm?"

He shrugged, "sure I guess. There's still room."

"Asshole!" Gwen gave him a playful slap on the chest and a shove.

With a chuckle, he pulled her into his arms and stole a kiss from her lips. He would have been grateful for just a peck, but he was pleasantly surprised when she gripped a handful of his golden hair and pulled him in deeper. Her kiss was sensual, almost needy, like she'd been starving for it all night, and he matched her with equal fire.

When they came up for air Arthur teased her with an impish grin, "you give me shit constantly, but you know you love me, Guinevere."

"If I did, would that frighten you?" Gwen asked. Such words had never been spoken between them, and men had been known to tuck tail and run after such admissions.

"Not at all," Arthur confessed. She smiled with relief and pulled him down into another steamy kiss.

The pleasant memory that had risen to the forefront of Arthur's mind, sank beneath the surface of his subconscious, like a whale into the sea. The strawberry scent of Gwen's perfume was chased away by the aroma of savory sauces and spicy peppers. The cozy mauve walls of his apartment faded into stainless steel counters and stark white tile.

His culinary professor was staring impatiently at him. It was clear that Arthur had missed a question, and world class chefs did not like repeating themselves. The entire class was looking at him. Some of them were rooting for the poor bastard to bullshit his way to a believable answer, while others were hoping he would fall on his face.

"What sauce is served with Eggs Benedict?" asked the stern-faced professor… for the second time.

Arthur had been caught off guard, but he recovered quickly. "Eggs Benedict is served with Hollandaise sauce, a mixture of egg yolk, liquid butter, water, and lemon juice."

"What type of egg does this dish require?"

"Poached?" Arthur said, a bit unsure of himself.

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"It's poached… I'm sure of it."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as the chef gave a nod of approval and moved on to his next victim. Arthur was amazed at how quickly a teacher can make you second guess an answer that you know better than the back of your own hand.

He returned to his cooking with lingering thoughts of Gwen. Once, she had dressed in a shortened version of Belle's yellow ball gown, with garter belts and lacy stockings. Gwen even held the enchanted rose. She sent photos to his phone while he was in class. Arthur sped home the moment he was released for break.

No words were spoken, he just claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss. Gwen felt the cool wall against the bare skin of her back as he pressed her body with his own. He hungrily kissed and nibbled at her neck and shoulder, eliciting sweet moans and Spanish whispers from her. Arthur leaned forward and lifted her. She wrapped her stockinged legs around his back, as he carried her to bed, and laid her on the cool sheets.

He barely made it back to school after practically pouncing on his girlfriend. They just held one another in a breathless sweaty heap, dreading the moment he would have to leave her. He was resting on her chest, with his ear over her beating heart. The drumming of it was serenading him to sleep.

"I love you," he spoke in a drowsy satisfied voice. "I don't want to leave you."

Gwen's grasp of the English language was loose at times and she wasn't sure if she understood him perfectly. She didn't know how best to respond so she didn't. Gwen raised her head from the pillow to drop a kiss on the crown of his head. Then she nestled back into the plush pillows and ran her fingers through his sweat damp hair. Her fingertips gently massaged his scalp, lulling him to sleep again.

"Arthur," she whispered into his tousled blonde locks. She wanted to drop the subject but needed clarity. "When you said you didn't want to leave me did you mean for today or forever?"

He raised his head from the smooth bare skin of her chest to gaze upon her face as he vowed, "both."

"I love you too," she swore, pulling him down into a heated kiss that spun them into round two.

This erotic memory brought a smile to Arthur's face, and he found himself wishing that things had remained this perfect between them. Gwen was so guarded that she allowed him to know very little about her. She refused to tell him where she worked or what she did for a living. They'd been together for months and he'd never been to her place. He hadn't a clue where she lived. It was like carrying on a relationship with a CIA operative, but Arthur was determined to wear away the stony shell that surrounded Gwen, just as Belle did with the Beast.

One Saturday morning, Arthur received a cryptic message from an unfamiliar number. It was a date and time to meet Gwen. He was shocked to ride up to a fabulous estate with cars parked everywhere. He kicked the stand of his motorcycle and dismounted it, feeling underdressed for whatever was going on inside that mansion.

A man around his age, with dirty blonde hair and cerulean eyes met him at the gate. The fellow gave Arthur one glance and disliked him immediately.

"Is Gwen inside?" Arthur asked. "She texted me to meet her."

"I texted you," the blonde fellow said with an exasperated breath. "I'm her stepbrother, Adam."

"Can I speak with her?" Arthur insisted.

"She's busy."

"Then why did you text me?"

"To put an end to this pitiful charade." Adam pulled out his phone and showed photos timestamped from that very morning of Gwen in a wedding gown.

In some pictures, she was feeding cake to a man who was so handsome he didn't look real. In other photos, she was dancing with this Adonis of a fellow. These pictures were like a punch in the face for Arthur. They knocked the wind out of him. A sudden bout of nausea washed over him like a tidal wave. It made no sense and perfect sense at the same time. He could never come to her home or job. He'd never met her family.

"No fucking way," Arthur murmured in a trance.

"Gwen was engaged," said Adam, "and now she's married."

Arthur sent her a text message saying that he never wanted to see her again. Then he smashed the phone and took off on his motorcycle.

Arthur emerged from the cruel memory of having his heart ripped out as the professor released them for the day. He stepped outside to journey over the pristine white sidewalks and manicured lawns of a busy campus. That's when he noticed the missed call on his phone. It was Gwen, of all people. Even after the savage manner in which she lied to him and stabbed him in the heart, he found himself fighting the urge to call her back.

She called again and he could not control his hand, it flew ahead of his brain and answered the phone.

"What?" he snapped at her.

"You dump me over a text message and all you have to say is what!" Gwen screamed into the phone with tears streaming down her face. "You're a real piece of work!"

She was so furious that she slipped into her native Spanish, and she was speaking at such a velocity he could barely understand. Arthur had never been called so many dicks and assholes in a single conversation.

"What right do you have to be pissed at me?!" He screamed back, once there was a gap long enough for him to get a word in.

"I have every right to be furious!" She yelled. "I asked you if it would scare you for me to confess my love. You promised me that you were alright with my feelings for you. Then you tucked tail and ran like a coward!"

"I was pleased with your feelings! I felt the same way!" He insisted. "I wasn't okay with you being married and stringing me along!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Don't insult my intelligence! I crashed your wedding."

"I'm a model, dumbass! Why do you think I'm so picky about my diet?! It wasn't a real wedding. It was just a photo shoot."

Arthur heard a beep in his ear. He pulled the phone away to discover a photo she had sent him. It was Gwen on the cover of a bridal magazine. She was posed with a gorgeous male model, whom she cared nothing for.

Arthur was in shock. All he could do was repeat the words, "I'm so stupid… I'm so stupid."

To his surprise, he heard Gwen laughing on the phone. She was relieved that he didn't break up with her for the reasons she thought. Arthur hadn't been afraid of intimacy or commitment. He was ill-informed.

He began to laugh at himself. "Why didn't you just tell me you were a model?"

"Because such a confession has been known to be a relationship ender. You are not the only one who's suffered heartache," Gwen explained while wiping away her tears. "I get the insecure cavemen who demand that I quit modeling because they don't want anyone looking at their woman. Or I get the self-conscious babies who are intimidated by the male models, and want to dictate what jobs I accept. Or I get the arrogant jerks who treat me like a trophy to be claimed and flaunted, rather than a girlfriend to be loved. Or worst of all, I get the misogynistic assholes who believe that if I am a model I must be lacking in character or brains; that being a model makes me a bimbo. Before I told you what I did for a living I just wanted to show you that beauty and brains are not always sold separately. A woman can have both!"

"Would an apology be pointless?"

"I think an apology would be a good start," she growled between clenched teeth.

Arthur spent the next ten minutes begging for forgiveness while Gwen apologized for screaming obscenities at him in two languages.

She wanted to trust him again but couldn't until she knew the answer to this question, "how did you find out about my photo shoot? Were you fishing through my phone or tablet?"

"No, I would never do that."

"Be straight with me. I deserve that much."

"Guinevere, I would never go through your stuff," he insisted. "I don't like when people do it to me."

"Then how did you find out about the wedding shoot?"

Arthur explained. "Your brother is a dick. He invited me and said you had just gotten married. He showed me pics and everything."

Gwen's blood turned to ice. A shiver trickled down her spine. Goosebumps rose on her skin. She at last willed her petrified throat to bring forth words. "I don't have a brother. Run to the police, Arthur! Go right now!"

Gwen struggled and thrashed about as a sack was snatched over her face. She felt the sharp prick of a needle as it pierced her neck. Then everything went black.

The phone went dead on Arthur as he fought to make sense of it all. He called back but heard nothing of Gwen's exquisite voice. All Arthur heard were the taunts of the man he had previously encountered at her photo shoot. The guy was a stalker who had pretended to be Gwen's brother just to chase away the competition.

The monster who called himself Adam had terrorized Gwen in the past and now he'd become her captor. A beast had taken Arthur's beauty and there were no singing plates and charismatic candlesticks to make everything okay. Adam's malicious threats were raising the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck.

If Arthur contacted the authorities, the beast would kill his beloved. If Arthur did nothing she would suffer the same fate. Arthur had broken Gwen's heart, and let her down. He was determined to never fail her again. He was no soldier, just a culinary student, but his mind was made up. He would save her or die fighting…