Scars To Your Beautiful : A Modern Beauty and the Beast retelling ✔

5. The Unexpected

"You're trespassing." Callie almost jumped in fright when she heard a gruff voice call out.

Callie whirled around sharply. She squinted, struggling to see who was speaking. She could barely make out the face that was covered by a small, polyester umbrella. But the person—a male—seemed intimidatingly tall, towering roughly over 6 feet. He wore a thick dove white trenchcoat hanging above his wiry body and stood at the far end of the garden with a walking stick in his right hand. He limped closer to her, still covering his face with the umbrella. She could see split ends of dirty blond hair sticking past the umbrella's edges which was gripped delicately against his trimmed nails.

Now she was pretty curious to see who was hiding under the umbrella. She guessed this was the Hammell kid. Judging by the authority in his voice and his loner outlook, he seemed to check all the boxes. "I'd rather talk face to face without any hindrance in the way, if you don't mind."

The male grew silent. Callie wondered if she overstepped. Eye contacts were always necessary for negotiations. She'd read that in a self-help site online. Now wasn't the moment to back down. She really needed his help. "Well?"

Still in silence, he pushed his umbrella to the floor. It bounced around when it hit the floor until it finally stopped. She shifted her gaze back to his face and resisted letting out a soft gasp. Underneath his shaggy, shoulder-length blond curls that slightly covered the right side of his face were thick slashed scars she didn't expect to see. A long scar on his visage ran from his left eye diagonally to the end of his chin's right side. The scar was deep, colored in a dark bruised purple shade of a ripened eggplant, discoloring his olive skin tone. Two smaller ones cut through his left eyebrow and another slashed through his right cheek, crisscrossing the end of the longer scar. It gave him a rougeish look that left an unusual aftertaste at his sight. Pink lips tightened and she calmly found herself talking, while his dark emerald eyes hardened. "Can we talk, now?"

Callie was still startled by the deep scar lines on his face and she fought away any dreadful feeling that could give away her emotions. She'd hate for him to think she was afraid of him. Callie knew she needed to seem casual about everything.

"How the hell did you get in? I have men stationed at the gate." His back had stiffened immediately and his eyes became guarded.

Callie bit her lip. His eyebrows drew together tightly and he looked really pissed. This wasn't what she had in mind. Oh God, did she just make things worse? "I'm sorry. I jumped over the fence. I used to be a gymnastics pro, so it's an old habit. I promise it won't happen again." Callie frowned slightly when she remembered how much she loved doing gymnastics. Her old life before her mom died. She didn't even remember what that felt like. The thrill of climbing and flipping had resurfaced. It hurt how badly she wanted to erase that.

He mumbled. "Those damn guards. I ought to fire every single one of them. My safety has been compromised."

"I'm not a criminal. I just—"

He gave a loud snort. Callie frowned once again. It looked like he wanted to bite her head off with his words. "Breaking and entering is a criminal act."

Callie fought back a groan. Shit, shit, shit. He didn't want to hear her out. Why did she think jumping the fence was a better option? Oh yeah, the number of guards at the entrance made her realize that there was no way anyone of them was going to let her see their boss. She hoped he wouldn't press charges. How stupid had she been? "I'm sorry. Please, don't throw me in jail."

He uttered monotonously. "Just leave my property now."

"I'm not leaving until you hear me out." Callie's stubborn response seemed to surprise and annoy him even more. She could read the host of emotions burning in his rigid green eyes.

His voice came out cold and rash. "Then I'll get someone to drag you out."

Her mouth hung. "You don't have to sound like an asshole." She didn't expect herself to say it. She wasn't one to curse, but she hadn't expected him to react that way. It infuriated her. Yes, she knew she messed up but he didn't have to make her presence feel like crap. She was already in a dilemma and was too desperate. Callie pursed her lips. He had every right to be pissed off. She reminded herself to keep her temper in check. It was the only way of saving her father's ass.

He hissed. "At this rate I won't even consider listening to you, even if you have something to say."

"It's about my father. Abe Blanco." She babbled quickly, before he could get the chance to kick her out.

The guy's eyes snapped to hers. His face hardened once again. "The Red Rosewood thief's daughter has a streak of committing crimes. Why am I not surprised?"

The intensity in his emerald eyes made Callie's confidence waver. So he knew about this? Of course, he did. He owned the damn company. Dad was right. He really was the beast of beasts. "My dad's not a thief."

He tilted his weight on his right leg before tilting it back to the other. "The evidence proves otherwise."

"But he's being framed. He'd never do it. My father's a good man." Her voice had softened more than she expected.

"Who also has a colorful background. Your father has a habit of getting in trouble. It's no surprise he did this." He said, cocking his head to the side.

Callie's eyes flashed. "My father has been struggling with a personality disorder all his life. He has STPD."

"I know about your father's struggle. Schizotypal personality disorder. Quite similar to schizophrenia. I know all about it. I also know your father has it in mild ranges. Easily controllable, hence why we hired him in the first place. Not everything in his files are triggered by his disorder. This included. Stealing was his choice. It's not a trigger, so don't try guilt tripping me." Despite how calm he sounded, Callie could see the fire blazing in his eyes. This must have hit close to heart.

Callie cleared her throat and forced out the sincere emotions swirling on her lips. "I know my father. He's a lot of things, but he's not a thief. He's noble, kind and selfless. He can't just go to jail for something he didn't do. We've already lost a lot and I want to make amends. Please drop the charges."

"So another person would think I'm weak and would try to take advantage of my situation, like he did? Don't take me for a fool, miss." He retorted stubbornly. His grip on his walking stick seemed to have tightened.

Callie hugged her arms tightly, as the blowing wind began to pick up. The crisp air had her clinging to her blue uniform shirt and the climactic moment with him made her shiver. There was no chance the guy was changing his mind. He didn't even budge and there was no sympathy in his words. She couldn't believe she failed Aunt Georgia. "Please re-investigate and drop the charges. I know I'm asking for a lot and you don't know me, but my dad won't be able to survive jail. Even if we did post bail, it's going to cost a lot and would wreck our family's finances. I'm pleading for this because this is my last chance to undo any of this."

His face remained impassive when he spoke. "Even if I drop the charges, I can't just let your father go like that. When the antique was found in his bag, he tried to run away, breaking three grand sized vases that cost over a thousand dollars each. If I try to overlook him stealing, what should I do about the damages?"

Callie's lips parted as she struggled to utter a single word. She didn't know he broke expensive stuff. No one even mentioned that. She drew out a shaky breath. This was one thing apologizing couldn't undo. No wonder he wasn't interested in letting her dad go, just yet.

His flaxen hair swept over his right eye as the wind drew higher. His voice, rising over the wispy sounds of the air. "Now that you understand, you may leave."

He had made his point and she obeyed. There was no use staying.