Page 127 of Vicious Butterfly
My fingers tap a rhythm on the polished mahogany. Was this a gift? A warning? Spit in my face? To my shock and surprise, Clarence handed everything over to Luke as was promised and without issue. Luke’s now the owner of a massive fortune, including this property and several others.
But Luke didn’t know about the brewery. I don’t know if it was included, but if Uncle Jasper was Little Miss Promise Keeper like he’s always said he was, Luke won’t ever know about it. Luke was never supposed to know about my deal with Jasper unless I don’t do what I’m supposed to do. Clarence has no reason to keep it away from me, other than to spite me. That’sall a problem for later. As soon as Luke was rewarded with his fortune, he turned to Clarence and said, “I give half of the money to Tate,” implying that he should split the money evenly between us when he released it. Guess who’s never going to see that money?
I wasn’t surprised, though. I had considered all the ways I could drop hints to Luke, so he’d have the money given to him first and give it to me himself, but I didn’t want to take the chance, however small, that Luke would get suspicious and start asking questions. So, Luke will assume I’ll get the money, I’ll tell him I have, and then maybe I’ll torture Clarence for my share. Haven’t decided yet.
But is that what his threat-coded text message was about? Money? He’d been planning to keep whatever Luke would give to me one way or another. Did he need it for something? I’m sure it would have been easy for him to steal but taking it from me was probably much sweeter. That’s exactly the kind of fucked up shit he does.
I don’t know. Just like I might never know how the fuck he got the information about Ryan and me. There was nothing on the cameras. Nothing out of order. I personally interrogated every member of Jane’s security team and gave them all a reminder of their place. Someone fucked up, and it could have cost Ryan.
Finally, Clarence handed me this box, which I should have tossed into the moat surrounding this place.
Didn’t.
The reason so embarrassing, I barely want to admit it to myself. I had to see what his final words to me would be. And what did I hope for? A posthumous “I’m proud of you, son?” Fuck that noise. But I’d worked so hard to be a version of him. A better one. Definitely no pride in sight. What I got was a brownleather cuff, the fucking knife he made me wound myself with, a mystery key, and a glass eye. Blue.
I know the eye. It came from my doll. It’s sick, but it’s also curious. I was so obsessed, reclaiming even a piece of that doll feels like reclaiming a piece of me. The leather cuff belonged to our father—mine and Luke’s. It’s inlaid with swirling designs and a bold letter V in the center of a square. I begged Jasper for the cuff, and he always said no. Including it with the box doesn’t mean he gave in. It could be for Luke’s benefit—he knew I wanted it—or it could simply mean he wanted to pass it down.
But why not give it to Luke if that was the case?
Whatever. I’m glad I have it. Glad to have the creepy little eye, too. Even that damn knife for reasons I can’t explain.
Is this just a psychopath’s toy chest? Uncle Jasper knew all my odd proclivities. He used them against me. Maybe this is a reminder of what I really am, so I’ll never forget that while the rest of the world will never know. This could be him reminding me that he knew.
But the key doesn’t fit that message. It’s an old skeleton key. Gold. Two toothy prongs on one end, a loop on the other. No idea what the fuck it’s for. It could be just to fuck with me. It’s kind of an old-timey thing. Maybe I should give it to Luke to give to McKinnon?
My brother barrels through the office door. “I’ve been calling your name. I found something for McKinnon, and I’m more than ready to get the fuck outta here.”
He calls his boyfriend McKinnon, too. Also calls him princess. I know way too much about my brother’s relationship.
He stops short when he sets eyes on me. What does he see? My layers are peeled back. Putting the usual Coach Tate filter in place isn’t possible right now. I can’t even look at him, half embarrassed by the pile of what will look like junk to Luke, and half lost.
Luke picks up the cuff. “He didn’t leave you anything; he’s a bastard, but you’re getting your half, Tate. You don’t have to worry.”
“I wasn’t worried about that. I was nothing to him. Didn’t want to be.” And that’s true, which makes the suffocating heaviness all the more confusing.
He sets the cuff down. “How’s Ryan?”
Why the fuck is he asking about Ryan right now? I scrub a hand over my face. My hand claws at my chest as if it’s searching for something that isn’t there.
“He’s measuring his dick in a locker room,” I blurt out.
Luke frowns. “I hate locker rooms. I’d spank Ace if he did that.”
I swallow. “We don’t, um, we don’t do that.” My brother and McKinnon have a kink relationship of some kind. I don’t ask. Or judge. I set my head on the desk.
“It’s still inappropriate. He’s married.”
“Tellhimthat. He doesn’t listen to me.”
My head spins with everything. I need to get out of here. All I want is Ryan. Touching Ryan might alleviate whatever the fuck’s going on for me.
Or make it worse.
Whatever. I’m willing to risk that, but not Ryan. It’s better I stay away.
Eventually, there’s a sigh. A warm hand combs through my hair, and I wince at the contact. My own brother can’t touch me without my body internally flinching. How fucked up and broken am I? I don’t let it show on the outside. One of the many things Luke can never know. It would break him. Instead, I let the tingling dread wash over me, barely tolerating touches that should be comfort.
“I know what you’ve said before—you own him, and that’s it. But are you sure you don’t love him?”
