only told half the story. They had said that the teenage Nicolo Chatsfield had saved the life of a chambermaid trapped in the fire—but he was no goddamned hero, Nicolo thought heavily. He had been a stupid, scared little boy. It had been he who had caused the fire. His father had managed to keep the facts from the media, but the terrible secret had hung like a weight around Nicolo’s neck for all of his adult life.
For many years he had buried the truth deep inside him and enjoyed the media spotlight, playing up to his reputation as the playboy hero. His life had been one long round of parties, champagne and a constant supply of beautiful women in his bed. He had not cared about anything other than his own selfish gratification. It was as if, after the months of suffering he had endured as his burns had slowly healed, it was somehow his right to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh that had experienced agonising pain.
For how long would he have continued to live a shallow, unprincipled life? Nicolo wondered. If the chambermaid Marissa Bisek hadn’t come to him eight years ago to beg him for financial help it was likely that he would still be a degenerate womaniser. The memory of the man he had been then filled him with shame. Dio, he had looked at the poor chambermaid, who had been horrifically scarred in the fire and yet was pathetically grateful to him for saving her, and his world had crumbled.
Faced with the evidence of his culpability, he had been forced to acknowledge he was not the hero that everyone, including Marissa, believed. The ugly scars covering his body were his punishment for his childhood crime. After meeting Marissa he had wanted to crawl away and hide beneath a stone like the worthless creature he was. But the chambermaid’s lack of self-pity shamed him further. He had realised that he had a choice. He could sit around feeling sorry for himself, or he could turn his life around and do something worthwhile.
And so he had set up a charity to help other burn victims, and for the past eight years he had devoted himself to raising funds for the charity. He wasn’t a hero, Nicolo thought bleakly, but he was doing his best to atone for the sins of his past.
For a moment he tried to imagine Sophie Ashdown’s reaction if he told her the truth about himself. No doubt she would be disgusted. She might even rush back to London to tell her boss that Nicolo Chatsfield had no moral right to be involved in the family’s hotel business.
Nicolo was impatient for Sophie to leave Chatsfield House, yet he could not bring himself to admit the truth to her. He did not want to risk seeing the same horrified expression in her eyes that he had witnessed when she had noticed the scars on his hand. He could only imagine her reaction if she ever saw the grotesque scars that covered one side of his chest. Beneath his clothes he had the body of a beast, and he was sure Beauty would recoil from him if he ever revealed his true self to her.
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