Page 132 of Beautiful Venom
Which I’ve only seen in extravagant movies.
“This looks amazing, thank you.” I sit down and try not to devour everything in sight.
Manners, Dahlia. Manners.Don’t go showing your unpolished side in front of rich people.
I struggle with the numerous forks and knives, but Helena says not to worry about it and to eat however I wish.
She tells me about the happiest years of her life—since Kane was born—and the saddest—after he was conditioned by his father.
Helena also talks about how the house has felt lifeless since Kane permanently moved out a couple of years ago. Even though he ignored her or treated her coldly before, he still came home and she saw him every day. Now that he’s gone and refuses to keep in touch, her depression has gotten worse.
I notice that she barely eats and the butler brings her medication. He hides the label, but she doesn’t seem to care too much.
Prozac.
If she’s taking antidepressants and still looks so damn sad, it’s serious.
It feels like I’m using her by probing, but her son is a blank slate who won’t tell me anything, no matter what I do.
After I swallow the most delicious muffins I’ve ever tasted, I say, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“That day when we first met, you said I should run away while I can. What did you mean by that?”
She lifts the colorful teacup to her mouth, then pauses. “I suppose I didn’t want you to end up like me. I have no way out, and even if I managed to escape Grant’s sphere of influence, I’d have to abandon my son and live in hiding for the rest of my life. But I realize I was wrong in suggesting that.”
“Why is that?”
“Kane doesn’t look at you the same way Grant looks at me. I was always a pawn for him. The daughter of a supreme court justice that he needed to further his endeavors, and he was the man I wanted to marry for status. Grant never loved me and I never loved him. Ours was a political union through and through. It’s different for you and Kane. He cares.”
I nearly choke on my tea and cover it up with a laugh. “Cares? Pretty sure he doesn’t know the meaning of that word.”
“Maybe not consciously, but he does.” She juts her chin to the side. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have rushed here.”
When I follow her field of vision, my lips part.
Kane is striding toward the glass doors, his silhouette swallowing up the horizon. He looks so dashing in jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket.
“You told him?” I ask.
“Samuel probably did. That’s the butler who brought you in earlier. If Kane didn’t care, would he come over, worried about the prospect of you meeting Grant?” she asks in a soft voice. “Though he knows that Grant only comes back home late on the weekdays, Kane is always cautious.”
A few moments later, he stops by the table and says like a robotic soldier, “Mother.”
“Hi, darling.” She smiles and nods at an empty seat. “Join us for tea?”
“We’re leaving.” He grabs my elbow.
I release myself and tug on his sleeve, painting a smile. “Of course we’re not. Kane would love to join, right?”
He glares down at me.
I glare back.
“You don’t have to force yourself, darling,” she says awkwardly. “If you have things to do…”
“He doesn’t.” I half stand and whisper in his ear, “If you don’t sit down and join us, there will be no sex for a whole week.”
