Page 73 of The Butterfly Killer

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 didnotneed 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. Hewanted 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.

Herolledhis fucking eyes.

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

---