The Butterfly Killer

Chapter 20

20

Burns adjusted the tie to no avail. He’d been looking at it through the mirror on the drive over and now they were parking, giving him less than a minute to find a solution to the monstrosity.

He looked at his styled curls then his fresh shaven face and then the suit he was wearing. It didn’t suit him at all. The high end brand seemed cheap on him though the tailor had tried his best to hype Burns up.

Naturally, Mercer had no problem spending his money on clothes he would only wear once. Burns knew Mercer would never wear the suit he was wearing again—it was too flashy. The velvet dark navy blue looked good on him and that was the problem. Mercer liked to seep into the background. He much preferred watching the rest of the room than being the center of attention.

Burns was the same except for vastly different reasons than Mercer. He didn’t want to be around people in the fear he might be judged while Mercer wanted to be around people so he could judge.

The idea of having to mingle was already started to cause warts to pop up on his fingers. He took deep breaths as he untied the tie and once again tried to fix it. He needed to look at least decent. They were going to be around wealth. Mercer was part of them, but if they smelled Burns out, their whole plan just might start to unravel.

Mercer reached across the console and grabbed the end of the tie. He yanked it out of Burns’s hand. “I’ll fix that. The more you mess with it the more wrinkles you put into it.”

Burns sighed in frustration through his teeth. “I wouldn’t have trouble with it if you’d let me get the clip on!”

Mercer sent him a look. “The only people that wear clip ons are middle age men who have a ‘man cave’.”

“I’m thirty-seven. Give me a couple years and I might have my own man cave. You’ll be lucky if I let you in.”

Mercer snorted. He ran his thumb over the silk tie as he pulled in front of the large white mansion. There were three other cars in front of them. They were models that cost ten times more than Burns would make in a year. Perhaps even five years.

Mercer had also dipped into his own funds to rent the lavish car they were now driving. While it wasn’t as flashy and pricey as some of the other cars being taken away by the valet, it was enough to keep their front up.

Mercer put the car in park and opened the door. He handed the keys over to the valet who jogged around to meet him. Burns’s tie was wrapped around his fingers as he tipped the valet with a hundred.

Burns had to hide the look on his face. He turned away from the bright lights coming from the large building. Mercer joined him as the valet took off with the car.

Mercer grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. “Come here.”

Burns let Mercer lead him to a darker spot in front of the building where no one would see them. He forced Burns to stop and turn to face him. He wrapped the tie around Burns’s neck and quickly started tying it. He worked fast and with precision Burns didn’t think he could learn if he tried.

He swallowed as Mercer’s fingers brushed against his throat. He made awkward eye contact with Mercer for a split second. He cleared his throat.

“Are you done?”

Mercer’s hands paused. He stared at Burns’s face. The stare made Burns even more uncomfortable. He fidgeted as he tried to get rid of the feeling but also stay still at the same time. Mercer’s eyes narrowed. He intentionally brushed his fingers against Burns’s face this time.

A shiver went down Burns’s spine.

“I haven’t told you the backstory I gave.” Mercer finally pulled his hands away.

Burns could only breathe a little better. “So tell me then.”

He straightened out his clothes, avoiding the tie. He knew that if he did it would end up in a horrible mess again. He’d had enough of Mercer’s hands on him as it was.

“I told them we were married.”

Burns started to nod. “That’s—wait. You did what?”

His eyes bugged out and he almost choked. He silently pleaded with Mercer to tell him this was a joke. Except when he looked at Mercer to be reconciled that it was a prank, he was met with a wall of seriousness that only meant one thing: Mercer wasn’t pulling his leg.

Burns’s shock melted away and turned into anger. “Are you serious? Why the fuck would you do that?”

Mercer didn’t look at all bothered or seem to care that he’d made Burns angry. It was a slap in Burns’s face and it only made him more mad at the other man.

He should have figured that Mercer wouldn’t give a shit about his feelings. He did what he wanted and screw what other people had to go through to get it.

Mercer had the audacity to look down at him like he was a child throwing a fit. Burns let out a growl and turned on his heels. There was nowhere he could go. He wasn’t going to risk making a scene before they even got into the building, but Mercer’s stupid face was going to send him into a blind rage if he didn’t start explaining.

“How do you know Cortez isn’t a raging homophobe?”

Mercer smoothed down the lapel of Burns’s suit jacket. Burns recoiled. Mercer didn’t react.

“He has many business partners who divulge in such proclivities. Whether he personally cares doesn’t seem to effect his business choices.”

Burns snorted. “Great. A man with even less morals than I thought.”

“We would be questioned if we were highly social men without beautiful dates. The best solution was to assume a monogamous relationship.”

Burns nodded with a slight eyeroll. “Yes because pretending we’re fucking is going to work out so well.”

Mercer’s eyes darkened. His jaw clenched. “Do you perhaps have a personal problem with this?”

Burns was confused at first, but when he realized what Mercer was asking, his eyes widened even wider than before. “Do you think I’m homophobic?”

Mercer didn’t say anything.

Burns gave a laugh that lacked any kind of humor. “I’m not. I just don’t think anyone would believe someone like you would be married to me.”

“Oh?” Mercer’s calm exterior cracked a little. He raised a brow. “Why not?”

The question caught him off guard. He frowned as he started to think of all the excuses he could say, but all of them didn’t sound good enough. The look Mercer gave him now was bordering disappointment—like an owner looking at a dog who was pretending to be hurt to not go to the vet.

Burns rethought what he was going to blurt out.

“I…well…neither of us give off the committed type.” He tried to put it nicely that Mercer didn’t look like the type to be with anyone. Mercer and sex wasn’t something Burns thought about at all, but he almost didn’t think Mercer was capable of it.

However, now that he thought about it and couldn’t stop thinking about it, he imagined Mercer to be a cold lover. He’d fuck someone with their face shoved in the covers, get off, and shove them out of the room before they could even think about asking for his number.

Mercer slid his hands back up so they cradled Burns’s face. He tried to step back and get away from the strange touch, but Mercer’s fingers dug firmly into his jaw, holding him still if he didn’t want to risk hurting himself.

“Is that all? Who would care if we’re committed to each other or not? I doubt adultery is something foreign to them.”

Burns snorted. “Yeah. Mistresses are a given in their culture.”

Mercer’s gaze narrowed. He pulled Burns’s attention back to him with a firm press of his thumb to the corner of Burns’s mouth.

Burns’s eyes widened. His lips parted in surprise before he could stop them.

Mercer’s eyes flickered to Burns’s lips for a brief second. “If you need a practice run, we better make it quick.”

Before Burns’s could say no, Mercer kissed him.

He slammed his mouth into Burns’s hard enough to bruise. It was manic, yet controlled. He kissed Burns like he was thinking of every detail, calculating where he was going to put his hands, when he was going to suck Burns’s bottom lip and when he was going to shove his tongue inside.

Burns grabbed the front of Mercer’s suit. He clawed at the fabric as he was shoved against the stone wall. He gasped as Mercer pulled away. He wobbled on his feet and held onto Mercer for stability.

“You—”

He stared at Mercer’s chest as he shook the brain fog that clouded his thoughts. It took him a moment to realize that Mercer had kissed him. Kissed him!

Burns shoved Mercer back and roughly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What the fuck was that?” He tried to take a step back, but he was already against the stone wall. He was caged in.

Mercer had never looked so intimating. His tall thin figure was ominous when Burns couldn’t see much of his features. He could feel them though. The ghosting of Mercer’s nose against his while Mercer’s unnervingly calculative mouth reduced him to nerve endings.

“A kiss, Burns.”

Burns growled. “I fucking know that! Why did you do it? We don’t actually have to fuck to lie you idiot!”

Mercer didn’t make any excuses. He didn’t so much as shrug. He stood with what Burns didn’t have to see to know was an unapologetic look. He was looking down on Burns again. He thought Burns was overreacting.

Burns had never felt so angry and humiliated at once. He couldn’t look Mercer in the eyes even though they were standing in the dark. He looked around them, noticing that more people had arrived and it looked like they’d been standing here for awhile. He hoped no one had seen what Mercer had done— though Mercer might say it would be good because it would make their lie more authentic.

Burns shoved Mercer again and tried to side-step him. He only got a couple feet before Mercer grabbed him and yanked him back against his chest.

“I will advise you to keep your cool.” Mercer’s voice was calm as ice. There was no inflation or tell in it and that drove Burns crazy.

He wanted Mercer to react in some capacity. He wanted to see some kind of emotion because he couldn’t possibly know what was going on inside Mercer’s head otherwise. The man was a walking enigma and Burns had no idea if he was playing a big joke on him or if he was being serious about this charade.

But if he knew anything about Mercer, it was that he would do anything to get what he wanted.

Mercer let him go. Burns shoved away once more. He straightened his jacket and was about to reach for his tie, but Mercer stopped him.

“I have it the way I want it.”

Burns’s face burned. He turned around and made a face Mercer couldn’t see.

But though he didn’t want to follow Mercer’s command, he thought about the job they were here to do. Mercer’s plan might be unconventional, but it wasn’t like it would be the downfall of Burns’s career or life.

He felt Mercer step up behind him. The man wasn’t deterred by anything Burns said or did. He either liked pushing Burns’s buttons or he simply didn’t think Burns was a threat.

A cold chill went down Burns’s spine as Mercer placed his hand on his hip. The touch was dominating and possessive.

A warning sounded in Burns’s head, but he chalked it up to being his response to the unprompted touch.

“Are you going to behave now?”

He knew Mercer was only saying it to get a rise out of him. Or test if Burns needed more time to get himself together.

“Are you?” He spat.

Mercer gave a dark chuckle. “We’ll see.”

Burns bit his tongue. Mercer lead him to the front steps of the large mansion. The white columns grew in size and he couldn’t stop the “awe” look from stretching across his face.

He snapped out of it a second later, reminding himself he was playing the character of a man who was used to such blatant displays of wealth.

Mercer had no problems falling into step with his new character. Though, Burns would say Mercer didn’t have to play anything. He was simply being who he was. It was a blessing he could just be himself. Maybe it would make Burns’s embarrassing act a little more believable.

They weren’t the last people to enter the gala. Thankfully. However, there were a lot more people here than Burns was expecting. He knew Cortez was a popular man even with his connection to criminal activity.

The front lobby area opened to a dining hall set up with food.

Burns didn’t want to leave Mercer’s side so he stayed with the man as he made small talk with the butler who checked their name on the guest list. Burns scanned the room as discretely as he could. Already, he spotted three men posted to the walls and two others mingling with the guests. The two in the crowd weren’t as obvious as the men posted, but the matching tattoos on the side of their necks was kind of a dead giveaway.

When Mercer was done getting information from the butler, they headed to the refreshment table.

Burns grabbed a cracker with what looked like cream cheese and popped it into his mouth. He chowed down on it hastily, not even tasting it at all before he swallowed thickly. The dryness of his throat didn’t help to get the brutally sharp cracker down.

“So—uh—where do we go from here?” He resisted the urge to nervously mess with his tie. He did not need to look like a fucking wreck.

Mercer watched him from across the table now separating them. Burns cleared his throat.

“What?”

Mercer didn’t say anything. He turned and flagged down a server carrying champagne. He took two and went around the table to hand one to Burns.

Burns took it with apprehension. “Should we be drinking?”

That being said, he took a drink. It was too tempting. It was tons better than the cheap stuff he used to down in high school out of his parents’ private fridge.

“For you, I think a slight buzz might help you relax,” Mercer murmured.

Burns let the slight roll off him. He was trying to forget the bruising kiss and the way Mercer had pressed him against the wall. The champagne wasn’t going to help with that. He needed something far stronger.

Mercer sipped on his drink. Minutes passed with them talking about other things that were not of consequence. It might have seemed like a waste of time, but after years of working together, they knew how to assess the room and situation, exchanging information to each other without having to speak.

Mercer had been right. Burns had needed a drink to loosen the tension. While Mercer’s methods weren’t anything Burns agreed with, he placed himself in Mercer’s mind to give himself an explanation for the unethical behavior that had transpired outside.

Mercer had taken the best course of action as he saw fit. He knew that them being a couple would make sense and explain why they would be in each other’s pockets for the night. He wanted to be as “authentic” as possible and tried to prepare Burns for the situation at hand.

Should Mercer had warned him before? Hell fucking yes. Would Burns have chickened out? Hell fucking yes.

Burns drained the drink. Mercer took it from him before he sat it on the table.

“Manners, Burns. Please,” Mercer said. It had to be the first time Burns had ever heard him say please. It was still condescending, but it was still strange.

A giggle fell from Burns’s lips. “Aw. You tolerate me so well.”

The comment surprised even himself, but not as much as it did Mercer. His eyes widened, darkening in a way that gave Burns that same warning feeling. Before either of them could unravel the meaning, someone burst through their small bubble, inserting themselves right in the middle of whatever the fuck was going on between them.

The first thing Burns noticed about them was their long golden hair. There was a slight wave to it, but what caught his attention the most was the severity of its shine. The crystal chandelier bounced light off the gold strands almost like a disco ball.

Burns was gobsmacked by it. Stunned speechless, he completely forgot what he and Mercer were talking about.

The woman had a boyish figure. Her facial features were soft, her skin pale but not ghostly. Freckles sprinkled the bridge of her nose. The only makeup she wore was a pink-ish lipgloss.

Burns was enamored and intimidated by her effortless beauty. His fight or flight kicked in and he would have ran away if it wasn’t for the shock that held him still.

He looked to Mercer, expecting him to be taken aback as well by the woman who’d barged into their conversation.

Mercer, however, wasn’t stricken by the goddess who could make any man crumble to his feet.

He rolled his fucking eyes.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Andrew? Andrew Mercer?”

Mercer’s body locked up tight. The woman didn’t take the hint. She toed on the edge of danger and moved toward him as if they were the best of friends.

Mercer was as friendly as a hissing cat in the rain. His shoulders hunched and he glared daggers at her. Burns hadn’t seen him this revulsed since…he didn’t think he’d ever seen him react like this .

The woman grinned as she dragged a finger from the top of Mercer’s shoulder and down his arm, stopping at the crook of his elbow.

Her pink tongue darted out. She bit it as she fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, that’s right. You use your middle name. James, was it?”

Mercer’s left eye twitched. “I thought you moved to California.”

She darkly giggled. The hand not on Mercer’s arm grazed her chest, fingertips gliding over the gold pendant necklace. A simple white diamond hung from the chain.

“Oh, I had my fun. Headlined two franchises, snagged a couple awards, produced a TV show.” She shrugged her accomplishments off like they weren’t anything. “David is the reason why I’m back here. We met up in Cali and he popped the question.”

She held up her hand. An ornate gold ring with a large diamond in the center and tinier ones on the band fit snugly on her ring finger. Burns realized she hadn’t been trying to show off her necklace. She was trying to show off the huge rock on her finger.

Mercer’s eyes dropped to the ring. His face went void.

“I see.”

Her eyes drifted to Burns. She looked him up and down, a sharp curious glint in her eyes that made Burns’s skin feel like he was suffering from a sunburn.

“And who is this?”

Mercer wrapped a stiff arm around Burns’s waist. “My husband, Rhys.”

Burns jumped at his middle name. He didn’t even think Mercer knew his first name, let alone his middle name.

Burns put on the biggest smile he could muster, conveying the sweet go-happy husband he was supposed to be. “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

He stuck his hand out. He hoped she didn’t see the line of sweat on his hairline.

She looked down at his hand like it was a dead rat. “Molly.”

Burns got the hint. He awkwardly dropped his hand to his side.

He wasn’t going to try and laugh it off. That would be even more humiliating.

Mercer pulled Burns even tighter to his body. He turned his head and pressed his lips to Burns’s temple.

Burns did laugh that off. “Stop. We’re in public.”

He didn’t know why his eyes trailed over to Molly who watched with a razor sharp gaze. It was a feeling that burned his chest and made smiling so much more easier. The hand on his hip and Mercer’s lips on his skin became easier to tolerate. He almost wanted Mercer closer to him.

Molly scoffed though she hid it like she was making a joke. “I see the honeymoon stage hasn’t worn off. Though, I must admit, I didn’t think you’d ever settle.”

Burns cuddled close to Mercer’s side. “I know. I didn’t think he was the committed type.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I mean, settling. No offense, but you’re not exactly part of the world Andrew came from.” She grinned. The thin smile stretched uglily across her face and pointedly to the corners of her eyes.

Burns’s jaw clenched. All the attraction he’d felt to her had zeroed out. If he had no reservation, he would have pushed her into the table and laughed.

He restrained himself and ignored the catfight bait. He didn’t know who Molly was to Mercer nor did he really care. What he didn’t want was for this woman to come after him for a reason that didn’t even fucking exist. Also, he didn’t like that she was basically calling him trash. Call him petty but he didn’t like snobby people.

“Maybe that’s why he likes me so much. Not all that glitters smells so great.” He gave a little shrug. “Come on babe, I think I saw cheeseballs over there. I can stuff my face with those all night..”

Molly made a disgusted look.

Burns pulled Mercer to the end of the table. He immediately regretted what he said. He was supposed to lay low and place nice with these rich stuck-up people, but it was so fucking hard when he was being disrespected to his face.

“Cheeseballs, huh?”

Burns rolled his eyes with a groan. “It was the first thing I could think of. Not like you were doing so much better. You’d let anyone talk to your husband like that?”

Mercer’s brows pulled together. The sharpness of his eyes dimmed somewhat. “I?—”

The words that followed would haunt Burns for the rest of the night because he never got to hear them. Applause erupted in the large room where most of the guests gathered. The largeness of the room carried the sound, drowning the start of the rest of Mercer’s words.

Burns tried to ask Mercer to repeat himself, but Mercer shook his head and nodded toward the entrance.

Burns turned, confused by the look of defeat on Mercer’s face. If he wasn’t already dying to know who Molly was, he was surely now. He needed to know why she was the one person in the world who could make Mercer look vulnerable.

His need to know was dampened when he saw the man of the hour waving and shaking hands of guests as he walked in.

Dante Cortez.