Page 88 of Butterfly

Twenty-nine

Alex

MY HEART IS heavy as Sienna walks away from me. Those bloody scars will always be a source of pain for her. And thus, for me. But it’s amazing how quickly my sorrow can turn into anger the moment Dylan appears from around a corner. He’s staring at the screen of his phone, but when he walks past, he lifts his head and shoots me one of his venomous glares.

I don’t pretend to be polite to him, and he returns the favour.

He stops a few feet away from me and turns around. “Do you know why I don’t like you?”

I straighten, my muscles snapping with tension. Even Dart growls. If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t want to end up on everyone’s feed tomorrow morning as the arsehole actor who hit an extra, I’d punch him senseless. “I have the feeling that you are going to tell me anyway.”

“It’s not because you stole my role—”

“I didn’t steal anything from you.”

“You’re going to break her heart.” He doesn’t bother to lower his voice. “She isn’t for you, for your world.”

Not another one. I’m growing tired of hearing it. “You don’t know shit about how I feel towards her.”

“Spare me. You’re going to get tired of her as soon as the next hot actress swoons all over you and drags you to the next drug party. You aren’t going to keep your dick only for her, and when you break her heart, I’ll be right there, taking care of her.” He steps closer, anger deepening the shadows on his face. “This is only a game for you, and she’s going to pay the price.”

My hand moves before I can think about it. I grab him by the throat. “You know nothing. And you’re part of this world too.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not a multi-million-dollar actor. You don’t love her. If you have some decency, you’ll let her go now before things get too deep.” He moves away from me. “But you’re a selfish bastard, and I’m not going to forgive you for that.”

“You don’t fool me, Dylan. You don’t care about her. You want to get to me? Then do it without involving her.” I widen my stance and close my fists.

Something flickers across his face, but it’s so quick that I can’t say what it is. “You’re going to crush her, and I care about her enough to protect her from you.” With a final glare, he slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves.

I shouldn’t care. But his words linger around me all the way home. Sienna and I are both in a bad mood as we prepare a quick dinner in the kitchen. While she’s chopping the onions, she’s wearing a dark top that leaves her back bare. The offending letters seem to taunt me, as if telling me that she won’t be completely free while they mar her back, like the claws of a demon sinking into her soul.

She turns around, and her mouth drops open. “Sorry. I should’ve covered it.” She snatches a T-shirt from the back of a chair and slides it on.

“No, don’t do that for me.” I drop the kitchen knife and take her face. “It doesn’t bother me, not in the way you think. I hate those scars for the pain they caused you, but you don’t have to hide from me.”

“When Ursula covered them, it was…” She closes her hand around the butterfly. “I’ve never felt so light and free. It was wonderful.”

I work my jaw, thinking carefully about my next words. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but have you ever thought about plastic surgery?”

Her shoulders stoop. “Not insensitive at all. I have, but they wanted thirty thousand pounds, and that was five years ago. I’m sure now the price will be close to fifty.” She shakes her head. “I have two mortgages. I can’t add a third. And after all, it’s cosmetic. Nothing life-threatening.”

I brush her hair from her face. “If it’s only the price that worries you, I can pay for it, pay for all your mortgages.”

The colour drains from her face. “No. I can’t accept that.”

“Why not? It’s only bloody money.”

“For you.” Annoyance spikes her brow.

I hold up a hand. “It came out wrong. I mean, I have more than enough to take care of you.”

“No.” Her voice is as hard as a diamond and just as clear. “I have to do this. On my own. Do you understand why?”

I keep caressing her hair, hating the cold between us. “It’ll take years.”

“I don’t want your money, Alex.” She folds her arms over her chest.

“I know that. But think about how quickly you can get rid of the scars.” My hand drops to my side when she steps back.

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