Page 53 of Vicious King

Fuck.

“Thanks anyway. Gotta go.” I hung up and dropped my phone in my pocket, my forehead creasing in a frown.

My eyes fell on the writing nook in the corner of Tatum’s walk-in closet, and my spirits lifted again. I’d given her pens and notebooks to write in when she first arrived here. I just had to hope she’d actually written something. Even just one sentence.

I went through every single book. They were all empty except one. She hadn’t written much inside it—a few pages about the Lodge and her room, and what appeared to be a couple of short stories—but it was more than enough.

I marched out of her suite and headed to my father’s study on the fifth floor. A regular keycard wouldn’t allow entry to the room, but fortunately, I knew the code for the door. He’d always trusted me way too much with shit like that. It was part of his attempt to make sure I knew I was his only hope for the future. The only one who could carry on his name, as he said so often.

It was a shame he never trusted me with the truth about anything else, though. Then I could’ve figured out what a piece of shit he was years ago.

I punched in the keypad code and strode over to his filing cabinet. As I expected, there was a copy of Tatum’s contract in the ‘M’ section. I flicked through it, searching for a page with a signature. Finally, I located one.

My stomach dropped as ice crept through my blood.

There was no fucking way she wrote this. Even though most people’s signatures were different to their regular handwriting, I could still tell this was a forgery. The general slant of the text, the style of the ‘a’ and even the height of the letters made it clear. Tatum’s writing was straighter and shorter, and the way she wrote the lowercase ‘a’ was more like the typographic style than the natural oval-with-a-flick style in this supposed signature.

I didn’t need to be some sort of forensic handwriting analyst to know I was right about this. This fucking contract was a fake, and Tatum never signed a damn thing.

My father must’ve had the bogus paperwork created just in case I ever asked to see any proof that she sold herself to the society. Or in case I ever asked why she acted out so much, upon which he could point me to the bullshit clause where she was supposed to fight me.

As always, he’d tried to remain a step ahead, predicting my every move. My every question. But not this time. I was a step ahead of him now, and I wouldn’t stop until I exposed all his secrets. Wouldn’t stop until I had enough dirt to bury him and all his sick friends.

Of course, that meant I had to find out what the rest of his secrets actually were first. They were no doubt held in the trust of Crown and Dagger’s third level, so for that, I’d have to wait. Luckily, it was just two and a half more weeks until I found out whether I made it or not.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I looked behind me to see my father standing at the office door, his eyes narrowed. Shit.

I cleared my throat. I had to act natural. Like there was a valid reason for me being here, rooting around in his documents.

“Oh, hey,” I said casually, standing up. I held out the contract as if I had absolutely no issue with him seeing that I had it. “I was looking for this.”

“Why?” he said sharply.

“Because I’m sick of all this shit with Tatum’s attitude. I wanted to show this to her to remind her that she belongs here. That she fucking chose this and signed her rights away for as long as her master chooses to keep her. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into her.”

“I see.” His shoulders visibly relaxed. “So your plan to make her fall for you isn’t exactly working, then?”

I scoffed. “This little attempt of hers to leave was just a minor setback. I think she was pissed at something I said the other night, and she wanted my attention. But the more I get to know her and her little quirks, the easier it’ll become to manipulate her. It might be a while until she really starts to fall for it, but I’m patient.”

God, I was so full of shit. I guess I inherited my ability to make stuff up on the spot from him.

He grunted. “You’d have to be patient, to put up with her,” he said, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Showing her the contract to remind her of her place is a good idea, though. Take it with you. I have plenty of copies in my other studies.”

“Yeah, I figured. Otherwise I would’ve asked you before coming in here to grab it.”

“Indeed.” His eyes fell on the notebook in my other hand. “And what’s that?”

I pasted on a cold smile and held it out to him. If I tried to hide it or brush it aside in any way, he’d be suspicious. I couldn’t have that. Not yet. For now, until I knew exactly what the fuck was going on here, I had to act like I was on his side with nothing to hide.

“I got Tatum this notebook to write in when we first arrived here, as a reward for good behavior. But after this latest bullshit performance of hers, I confiscated it. She doesn’t get it back until she starts behaving herself again.” I paused, then let out a callous snort. “You should look at it. On one of the pages, she’s written several paragraphs about what sort of dresses there are in her closet. That’s it. So fucking vapid and airheaded. No idea how she ever got into Roden.”

I kept holding the book out, waiting for him to call my bluff and read it, but he sniffed and ignored it instead. “Really goes to show you what happens in the minds of women, doesn’t it? It’s all clothes, makeup, and how to manipulate men.”

I snorted again. “No shit.”

He smiled, but I noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. Had any of his smiles everdone that?

Looking back, I couldn’t think of one single time he appeared to be genuinely happy or satisfied, though I never thought anything of it until now. Never realized what a relentless sociopath he was, even though the signs were always there in front of me, bright and red and flashing like a neon light.

He cleared his throat. “I have some calls to make. I’ll meet you for dinner at the restaurant on the east wing terrace at eight?”

“Sure.”

I gave him a big fake smile of my own and strode out of the study. My heart pounded the whole way back down to the second floor, and with each step I took, my outrage grew.

When I stepped into Tatum’s room, she was still asleep. I shook her awake, and she grumbled and rubbed her eyes. “What is it?”

“This.” I held the contract in her face. “We need to talk.”

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