Butterfly of Venus Read online

  He didn’t realize quite how insane she was until he looked at his Les Paul guitar. A sharp kitchen knife lay defiantly beside it. Natasha had slashed all the strings.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Elizabeth’s phone beeped, signalling yet another text from Declan. Fifteen so far. “So srry. Need to spk.” “Frgve me. Not my flt.” “Plse call. Srry.” “Srry. Need to cu.” “Call me.” “Plse call. I’ll wt 4ever.” “U must call. Miss you.” “Plse call. I can expln.” He’d called the office more than twenty times, but she’d left strict instructions he was not to be put through. As far as next week was concerned, she was permanently in a meeting.

  She knew she would speak to Declan eventually, but not until she’d had time to compose herself. He’d embarrassed and humiliated her in front of Jayce Corning. He’d made a complete fool of himself. Worse—much worse, as far as Elizabeth was concerned—he’d told Natasha about their sex life. Did he and Natasha lie in bed together and laugh, or even get off on her secret fantasies? What had Natasha said about the Venus butterfly? Two holes, one tongue? His signature move? Then she’d had the nerve to show Elizabeth her tongue piercing. That little pink muscle waggling at her was outrageous. Did she say she’d taught the move to Declan? It was completely disgusting. The very thought of it, the thought of Declan ever touching her again, made Elizabeth sick, literally. She made her way briskly to her office bathroom and threw up. After she wiped her mouth she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen from tears, ringed by dark shadows. She’d been unable to sleep for the past few nights. She decided she looked older, and sadder. What had Natasha called her? A ladder?

  At the thought of Natasha, bile started to rise once more. The two of them had played her for a fool. Declan only wanted to succeed in the music business. He had no interest in her, none at all. She threw up again.

  Once Elizabeth’s stomach settled, she buzzed Manny to get her an antacid and some coffee. He pranced in, carrying the requested items, and set them on her desk. His kind brown eyes took on a look of concern. “If you don’t mind me saying, boss, you look like shit.”

  “Thanks, Manny. That’s all I needed to hear.”

  “I know business is going well, so it can’t be that. Might it have anything to do with a certain cousin of my boyfriend?”

  “Look, Manny. I’m perfectly all right.”

  “Hmm. And I’m as straight as a slinky toy.”

  “It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

  “Maybe not. But I know wounds when I see them. Lord knows I’ve had enough myself.” Manny perched on the edge of her desk. Although she didn’t provide all of the details, Elizabeth explained that Declan’s former girlfriend was a psychotic troublemaker who was doing her utmost to wreck Elizabeth’s life. Manny listened sympathetically, then piped up. “Why don’t I go online and see if there’s anything that might appeal in the way of a little vacation?”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips. A get-away was actually a good idea. “Book me on the next return flight to Inverness for a week, and arrange a car rental.”

  “Inverness? Hardly a tropical paradise.”

  “I don’t need a tropical paradise. I’m going to Kinlochbervie.”

  “Right you are, boss. Leave it to me.”

  The tiny hamlet was a long way to go for a week, but Elizabeth already knew its restorative properties.

  Hunter buzzed her intercom. He sounded excited. “I was out last night with the road manager for Chaotic. They’ve got a three-day eastern tour coming up, and their opening act backed out. What do you think if we send Declan Thomas?”

  Elizabeth knew Chaotic’s reputation. They were a screaming, hard-partying metal band that boasted about their lack of personal hygiene. Three days on a bus with them would be a real trip for Declan. Chaotic’s fan base was big enough that he couldn’t turn it down, not if he wanted to get ahead, which he clearly did. It was time for Declan to pay some dues.

  “Call him and tell him he’s doing it. Solo.”

  Having made two decisions, Elizabeth felt better. She’d discovered that taking action was the best way to handle an emotional mess. Even if it was the wrong action, it set the universe moving in another direction. Doing anything was better than doing nothing.

  Elizabeth swallowed the antacid and sipped black coffee. Thankfully, the nausea had passed. She was feeling in control again.

  Elizabeth’s cellphone signalled another text. It was Declan begging to see her. Well, Declan could deal with Hunter from now on.

  Manny returned to her office, waving an online reservation. “Your plane leaves at eleven p.m. tonight. The car is at the Avis rental desk at the airport. A Peugeot.” Manny glanced at his watch. “You’d better get packing. Eddie is picking you up in ten minutes.”

  Elizabeth felt suddenly weary. Hopefully she’d be able to sleep on the transatlantic flight. She knew without asking that Manny had made the reservation for business class, and she looked forward to stretching out in a sleeping pod. “Thanks, Manny. I’ll be on Skype.”

  “Don’t worry, boss. Relax and get some rest.”

  Elizabeth made one last call to Effie. “I’m outta here for a week.”

  “Where?”

  “Going to KLB. I’ll sort out the shit show that’s become my life when I get back. I need a break and some highland air.”

  “Lucky you. Let’s Skype and you can show me the view.”

  “Will do.”

  Elizabeth zipped her MacBook Air into its travel case and grabbed her leather jacket. She strode through the main office and into the elevator. As she turned and pressed the button for the ground floor, Elizabeth caught a quick glimpse of the opulent glass and marble reception area that greeted visitors to ATM. Sitting behind the reception desk, answering phones, was Natasha. As the doors slid closed, Natasha shot Elizabeth the tiniest, wickedest smile.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elizabeth’s mind reeled in shocked disbelief. Natasha, the new receptionist? It didn’t seem possible. How the hell had that happened? As her car slowly made its way through Toronto’s mess of traffic, Elizabeth’s fingers flew across her cellphone, texting Manny. He knew nothing about the hiring. Apparently Natasha had applied through the traditional route and been interviewed by someone in human resources. She had a three-month contract, that’s all he knew.

  Elizabeth leaned back in the leather seats and stared grimly out the window. Should she cancel her trip and turn back? No, that would be letting Natasha win. The only way out of the contract was to pay Natasha off. Elizabeth could just imagine the look on that smug bitch’s face if she got a payout of almost ten grand for nothing. She could afford a nice little vacation for her and Declan on Fantasy Island. Elizabeth would be damned before she’d give her that. What the fuck! This was terrible. Elizabeth texted Manny, “Ntsha is frmr glfrnd of D’s I tld u bout. Kp close eye. Not to be trstd.”

  He texted back, “OMG! Dnt wrry. She wont lck stmp without me knwng.”

  “Mk hr lfe dffclt.”

  “Plsre all mn.”

  Elizabeth called Effie to tell her the bad news.

  “What a monster she is,” Effie said.

  “You’re telling me. Of all the ballsy nerve.”

  “What are you gonna do?’

  “There must be some way to get rid of her without giving her a big chunk of change. The idea of having to see her every day for three months is physically painful.”

  “Don’t worry about it for now. Go take a break. Enjoy yourself.”

  The idea of enjoying anything ever again seemed beyond Elizabeth’s reach. “I suppose so,” she said glumly. “I mean, how much harm can Natasha do in one week?”

  The route home, a journey that should have taken fifteen minutes, took forty. She would have to hurry with her packing. Fortunately, she knew exactly what to take. The cottage in Kinlochbervie already had a suppl
y of hiking boots, rubber boots and rainwear. All she needed was a couple of sweaters, warm socks, underwear and jeans. She had several novels loaded on her e-reader that she hadn’t had time to read. This would be a good chance. She was counting on starting to feel better once she got to her cottage.

  Elizabeth inserted the key into her front door. It had been sticking lately, and today it was even stickier than usual. She made a note to find the WD40 and give it a little spray.

  “Hello, Elizabeth.”

  Declan’s voice from the shadows made her jump. She spun around.

  “Jesus, Declan. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you, Declan. Not unless it concerns business. That’s what you’re interested in, isn’t it?”

  Finally the lock turned. Her front door opened. She turned to face Declan. “I don’t have time for this, Declan. I have a flight to catch.”

  “Just two minutes, Elizabeth, please. Then I promise I’ll go.”

  Elizabeth looked at her watch. “Two minutes. Starting now.”

  Declan’s eyes were the colour of a stormy Caribbean sea. He looked at her with such intensity and longing that she felt her heart begin to melt. Then she heard Natasha’s voice sneering in her head. “Get you all tied up, did he? Tell him your dirty thoughts? Like being a slave?” Her heart hardened.

  Words tumbled from Declan’s mouth. “Natasha set me up. She spiked my drink. You know I don’t drink like that. She’s jealous. I don’t know how she knew about us. Somehow she found out.”

  Elizabeth made her voice as cold as possible. “Somehow she found out, all right. She seems to have a great deal of detail at her disposal. Intimate detail. So unless she was hiding under the bed when you were last here, there’s only one way she could have found out. You.”

  Declan, increasingly frustrated, ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t know what she said.”

  “How could you? You were wasted.”

  “I’d never blow a big chance like that.”

  “But you did.”

  “What did Jayce say?”

  Typical, thought Elizabeth. This proves what Natasha was saying. He’s only interested in what I can do for him. “Jayce has no further interest in you.”

  Elizabeth knew this wasn’t true, but she wanted to hurt him. He looked so crestfallen that, for a second, Elizabeth thought he might cry. Instead, he straightened up, projecting an air of defiance.

  “Jayce Corning isn’t the only producer in the world.”

  “No, but he’s one of the best, and I daresay word will spread about your behaviour.”

  “Goddamn it, Elizabeth. Why won’t you believe me? I was set up by Natasha.”

  “That young woman has missed her calling as an assassin. Just for your information, without my knowledge or approval she got herself hired as a receptionist at ATM. I’m sure she’ll be looking after your interests there as well.”

  Declan was taken aback. “She’s working at ATM? Fire her.”

  “I can’t, Declan. Not until her contract is up, or I pay her three months’ salary. She’d love that, no doubt.”

  “But you must. She’s dangerous.”

  “Believe me, I know that.”

  “No, I mean she’s really crazy.”

  “I have you to thank for this, Declan. By the way, did Hunter advise you of the tour with Chaotic?

  “Yes, thanks. I think.”

  “Enjoy being on the road, Declan. If I’m not mistaken, you have some packing to do. So do I. Your two minutes are up.”

  Elizabeth closed the door firmly in Declan’s face. She leaned against it, shaking. It had taken a great deal of restraint not to put her arms around his neck and draw his gorgeous face to hers, to kiss his full and perfect lips, to pull his narrow hips against her body and feel his need. Stop it, she told herself. Declan Thomas was not to be trusted. Anybody could be fooled once, but to be fooled twice meant you were a complete idiot. She, Elizabeth Harding, was not a complete idiot. She had simply been a vulnerable, lonely woman. He’d taken advantage of her. Never again.

  * * *

  Elizabeth’s flight to Amsterdam and connecting flight to Inverness were both on schedule. She managed a few hours’ sleep and arrived at Inverness feeling fairly refreshed. No surprise, it was raining. The gloomy grey skies and drizzle matched her mood. She found her rental car and set off on the three-hour drive north to Kinlochbervie—or KLB, as the locals called it. The first half of the journey passed through a gentle landscape of rolling hills. It wasn’t until she hit the single-track Lairg road that the scenery became truly majestic. Mountains, interspersed with grey lochs, towered around her, making her feel small but strangely safe. She braked several times as a doe or stag bounded across the road. They were a hazard, as were sheep that wandered freely at will. She found some Celtic music on the radio and felt her mood lift. She was so far away from everybody and everything, even her pain seemed remote.

  Elizabeth’s fieldstone cottage, built in the 1800s, had originally belonged to a fisherman. It overlooked Polin Beach, a wild and windy stretch of sand that saw few visitors even in the height of summer. During renovation of the cottage, Elizabeth had added a closed-in front porch. No matter how bad the weather, she could sit with a coffee and watch the tides roll in and out. She’d also restored a crumbling fireplace and added a modern kitchen. It was the perfect hideaway.

  Elizabeth stopped at MacKay’s General Store to pick up a few groceries. Hamish MacKay, a crusty old widower, was the third-generation MacKay to sell milk, eggs and bread to locals. He beamed when he saw her.

  “So you’re back, then?”

  “Not for long, Hamish. Just a week.”

  “Och, aye. Long way to come.”

  She agreed. “But worth it.”

  Elizabeth was sure that, by the time she walked in her front door, the entire village would be aware of her arrival. You couldn’t pluck an eyebrow in KLB without someone knowing about it.

  Elizabeth carried her small suitcase and groceries into the cottage. A peat fire burned cozily in the fireplace, lending the cottage a sweetly smoky smell. She had emailed to ask Muriel, her closest neighbour, to get it going for her. The charm of KLB was that everyone helped out their neighbours. In such a wild and remote location, it had to be that way or no one would survive.

  Within a few minutes, Muriel, a stout woman in her sixties with pink cheeks and a no-nonsense manner, arrived at her door with six fresh-laid eggs. It was rumoured in the village that Muriel had the gift of second sight. She was also known as a healer and had helped bring several of KLB’s children into the world when their mothers were unable to get to hospital in time. She gave Elizabeth a hug.

  “Good ta see ya.”

  “You too, Muriel. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Aye. Go on, then.”

  Muriel settled her bulk in front of the fire and filled Elizabeth in on the latest gossip, a staple form of entertainment in KLB. Elizabeth learned whose marriages had broken up, what new relationships had formed, who was pregnant and who had been arrested by the local policeman for being drunk. Not wanting to overstay her welcome, Muriel quickly finished her tea and left to get supper for her husband, Archie, the local handyman.

  Elizabeth set up her computer and fired off a quick email to Manny, saying she had arrived safely. She ran herself a hot bath, then cooked bacon and eggs. She sat for a while on her porch, watching the endless rhythm of the sea. No matter what happened in her life, the sea would always be a slave of the moon. The tide would come in. The tide would roll out. Elizabeth felt her eyelids droop. The pristine air of KLB and the long journey were taking their toll. She climbed into bed with a hot water bottle for comfort and slept the sleep of the exhausted.

  The next day dawned bright and clear. Elizabeth
awoke to the sound of mooing outside her window. One of McTavish’s long-horned cows was helping itself to grass in her small garden. Elizabeth rushed to the kitchen. She grabbed a saucepan and spoon and banged them together as loudly as she could. The shaggy beast peered at her from beneath its long fringe, munched awhile longer, then turned and ambled away. These are the sorts of problems I’d like to deal with, thought Elizabeth. A stray cow is nothing compared to a heartless man.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Natasha was determined. No matter how many coffees Manny sent her to get, no matter how much boring filing he gave her to do, no matter that he even insisted she clean out the cupboards in the office kitchen, she was going to stick around long enough to damage Elizabeth Harding’s precious ATM. Her chance arrived late on Wednesday morning, after Manny left the office on an errand. He called her in a panic. Had he left his cellphone on his desk? Natasha checked. Yes, there it was. Natasha turned it on. It wasn’t password-protected. Silly man. She tapped on Messages and scrolled idly through. A text from his mother reminding him to come for dinner. A long conversation with someone about skinny versus wide pants. An argument with his boyfriend, Damon. A makeup text to Damon. A text to Hunter. A conversation with Franco’s assistant, Priscilla, about him missing a plane. Blah. Blah. Blah. Natasha scrolled down. Then, she hit dirt, real gossipy dirt about Franco. Manny had texted, “Why dsn’t he cme out of closet?”

  Priscilla texted back, “Old fag.”

  Manny wrote, “Qr as me.”

  Before she turned the phone off and sent it by cab to Manny, Natasha photocopied the damaging text exchange. Next, she scooted over to Suzie’s desk with her sweetest, most innocent smile. “Where can I find a list of ATM’s press contacts?”

  “What for?”

  “Manny asked me to go through them and make sure they’re up to date.”

  “I’ll forward them to you.”

  “That’d be great. Thanks.”