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“Yeah, of course. I just wanted to check on her. What happened earlier is still bothering me.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve all done it.”

“Really? I can’t imagine you doing something stupid.” Aside from dispensing pills like a human gumball machine.

“Believe me, everyone in this house does something stupid at one point, or another.” She jerks her head toward me. “Go to bed. Tomorrow’s another fun day in the funhouse.”

With a snort, I make my way back toward the elevator.

“Hey,” she calls out to me and, after a glance back at Laura’s room, closes the space between us. “Be careful around him. Lucian. I wouldn’t get too friendly.”

“I wasn’t getting friendly. We were just casually chatting about his mom.”

“Nothing is ever casual with them. Everyone in this place is a master at hiding who they really are.”

“What is he hiding?”

Again, she looks back at Laura’s room. “Just watch yourself. I’m going to bed.”

Chapter 16

Lucian

Sixteen years ago …

Six hours with a tutor is about as thrilling as watching turtles fuck.

I’ve always been a fast learner, and never required the kind of hammering this tutor employs to teach. Show me once and move on.

Haven’t seen Solange today, and I’m anxious to meet up with her, to exhaust some of this pent-up frustration that has my muscles in knots.

Book bag slung over my shoulder, I enter my bedroom, but stop in my tracks on finding my father beside the bed. I let my bag fall to the floor, and he turns toward the sound. The accumulation of different sized knives I’ve collected over the last couple of weeks from the kitchen lies beside the BDSM magazine Solange gifted me. As I said before, I’m a quick study, and if I happen to find enjoyment in it, I’m even a bit enthusiastic. I’ve become something of a connoisseur of blades. Dull, sharp, jagged, smooth.

And I’ve managed to keep all this hidden from my mother, only pulling them out from under the bed on the times when I’m alone and keyed up. Imagining her face, screwed up in a cross between disappointment and repulsion, is enough to make me paranoid and cautious.

Somehow, my father having found it first is worse.

On instinct, I tug at the cuffs of my shirt, the phantom sensation of many slices I’ve made across my skin itching with my sudden discomfort.

“What is this, Lucian?”

Instead of answering, I lower my gaze and frown. Responding will do me no good. It’s obvious he’s searching for something that he can use as an excuse to leave another black eye on my face. Humiliate me in front of the staff and my mother. He’s never searched my room before, so why now?

He rolls up the magazine, and for a moment, I wonder if that’s what he’ll use to hit me this time, until he starts gathering up the knives, as well. He jerks his head toward those left on the bed. “Grab those. And follow me.”

Fuck.

He wants an audience.

I can see it now, all the maids, including Solange, the butler and cooking staff, all gathered in his office, with my knives and magazine laid out. He’ll ask who didn’t clean under my bed, who didn’t notice the knives going missing, just so there’s an excuse to have them there.

Reaching for the hilts, I grab a serrated steak knife and a much smoother paring knife. I’ve found the steak knife requires a lot of pulling and dragging, more damage and messy, difficult to control. I mostly use it for scraping the skin while I get off--never cutting. The best knife, I’ve found, is actually the dagger in my father’s hands. Particularly across the thigh. But that’s neither here, nor there, now that he’s found them.

I follow my father out of the bedroom, keeping my head low to avoid eye contact with anyone we might pass. We reach the elevator, and whereas there was a time I would plead for his forgiveness, to spare me whatever wrath is brewing inside of him, I don’t bother. I’ve grown to realize it’s useless where he’s concerned.

The silver doors open, and my father steps inside first. I follow after, and the doors close. Only, instead of pushing the button to the third floor, for his office, he lifts his hand and presses the signet ring to a button I always assumed broken.

I watch with curiosity as the button with the letter ‘S’ lights up. The strangest thing I’ve ever seen.