Beautiful People Read Online Free PDF

his eyes shining beneath his smooth pageboy fringe. "And Emma does everyone in the story with a different voice."
        Emma saw the children's father was frowning slightly, his eyes moving about as if searching for something.
        "What's the matter?"
        "Oh. Um. I was just wondering. You don't seem to be using a, um, book," James said eventually.
        "I don't need a book. I've read it so often to children that there'd be something wrong if I didn't know it off by heart. Time for you two to go to sleep anyway," Emma informed her charges.
        James watched as Hero slid a pair of tired white arms about Emma's neck and was carried to her small bed in the corner and laid down with the utmost care. He did not remember them being so tactile with Jacintha, nor Jacintha being so solicitous.
        James looked round the bedroom. The furniture had been rearranged in a more sensible, harmonious way: the children's beds had been pushed further apart, and stuffed toys had been arranged in one corner to look like a tea party. Up on the walls were the embroidered names in frames that his mother, a keen needlewoman, had done when the children were born, but which Vanessa had always declared too naff to display.
        A comfortable-looking chair had appeared from somewhere. Various lamps had arrived; the harsh, overhead light that had been in operation seemed to have been retired. Emma had achieved far more during her first three weeks in her job than he had in Equatorial Guinea, James reflected guiltily. But then, Emma obviously had a sound grasp of what she was supposed to be doing.
        "I'll leave you to say good night to them now." Emma slipped past him out of the door, a clean, scented soap smell trailing in her wake. "But I'd leave the lamp on for a while. Hero's afraid of the dark, as you know."
        James blinked back at her, stifling the instinctively honest response that this was news to him. Jacintha had been obsessed to the point of hysteria with completely dark rooms being crucial for proper sleep. At her behest and at great expense, they had fitted black-lined curtains and blackout blinds in the children's bedroom, but here was Emma, saying none of this was necessary and with Hero looking more relaxed than he had ever seen her.
        "By the way, if you're hungry," Emma said as she passed him, "there's a spare macaroni and cheese in the kitchen. I was going to freeze it, but I like to cook the children something fresh every day, so you're welcome to it if you want it."
        James blinked. He was beginning to wonder whether this woman was real or a happy vision. She seemed too good to be true.

Chapter Five

    In an apartment more lavish than Mitch's, and in a better part of Los Angeles, a thin, blonde woman slammed down the bedside phone angrily. Damn Mitch for not picking up. Okay, so she'd spoken to him this morning already, only five minutes ago, in fact, but he was supposed to be her agent, at her beck and call. Her call, certainly. Belle was not sure what her beck was.
        Still, there were compensations. If Mitch didn't want to pay her any attention, others would. Beside her, across the rumpled expanse of oyster-coloured satin sheets covering the vast bed, a handsome young man stirred. As she watched, Belle's artificially shaped and filled chest, balancing like two melon halves on its thin ribcage, swelled further with pride, albeit this time completely naturally.
        He was like a young lion waking, she thought fancifully, admiring the muscled arms—smooth, tanned, and lightly oiled—as they moved upwards, pulling the powerful chest and stomach with its clearly defined six-pack into a stretch. Everything below this was twisted up in the oyster satin, but Belle knew what lay beneath well enough: the powerful thighs, the tight buttocks…she felt a sudden hot rush in which the thrill of ownership combined with lust.
        If Christian Harlow wasn't the hottest man