Twisted Lies (Twisted, #4)

by Ana Huang

You downplay your accomplishments as ordinary when you would hail them as extraordinary on anyone else.”

“If you saw yourself the way other people see you,” he said quietly, “you’d never doubt again.” Curiosity and something infinitely sweeter and more dangerous fluttered to life in my heart. “How do other people see me?” Christian’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “Like you’re the most beautiful, most remarkable thing they’ve ever seen.”

It was impossible not to get swept away by Christian’s confidence. Instead of adding a brick to my worries about not living up to expectations, his faith in me fortified me enough to lock those ugly, taunting voices in my head back in the box where they belonged. “Yes,” I said, my lungs tight but my breathing easier than it’d been all afternoon. “Good.” His lips dipped and touched mine in the softest of kisses. It wasn’t the first time we’d gotten this close, but it felt more effortless. Less of a kiss, more of a promise.

It was an off-the-cuff, in-the-moment sort of thing, and not the type of action I’d usually take with a man I had barely even kissed. But I was riding high after the shoot, and Christian was so composed all the time I wanted to knock him off-kilter. Just once, just a little bit. Nothing, however, could’ve prepared me for the devastation his lazy, answering smile wrought on my heart. The butterflies lying dormant in my stomach went crazy, and I suddenly knew, with all the certainty in the world, that they were there to stay.

Christian was a finely honed assassin’s blade sheathed in velvet; Dante was a hammer burning bright with deadly intent.

“I didn’t realize you were dating Christian when I met you.” Dante’s deep voice pulled me away from my curiosity and sent a pleasurable shiver down my spine. Italian accents. They did it for me every time. “Now it makes sense.”

For two people who claimed to be friends, they didn’t act particularly friendly toward each other.

The only thing that looked out of place was the hideous painting in their art gallery.

MAGDA!!!

“Your questions.” The cruel cut of his smile injected ice into my veins, and I suddenly regretted asking him anything at all. “You want to know why, Stella? Why I gave you the watch, why I moved you into my house, my sanctuary, when I’ve lived alone for over a decade and had planned to do so for the rest of my life?” Every word spiked my blood with adrenaline until I was drowning in it. In him. In this wild vortex I’d sucked us into with no escape route in sight. “It’s because you haven’t looked me in the eye since New York. Because you’re all I can fucking think about no matter where I am or who I’m with, and the thought of you hurt or upset makes me want to raze this city to the ground.” Soft, almost desperate viciousness coated his voice. “I’ve never wanted someone more, and I’ve never hated myself more for it.”

I could’ve gone home with any woman I wanted, and I chose to come home to the one who didn’t want me.

I could’ve kissed her. I could’ve fisted her hair and branded her with my mouth until I proved there was nothing fake about the dark fire that burned between us.

Rough hands. Whiskey kisses. Footsteps in the dark. Heat

Josh was easy on the eyes, but his taste in art was questionable at best. “Nice art,” Christian drawled. “Thanks.” The other man beamed. “I picked it out myself.” “I can tell.”

Are you, Stella Alonso, having or have you ever had sexual intercourse with Christian Harper?” “No.” “Do you want to?” Two seconds of hesitation were enough to elicit gasps all around. “I knew it!” Triumph glowed in Jules’s eyes. “I’m so happy for you! Finally, someone you’re attracted to. Christian is crazy hot, and you’re living in the same house. It’s like the perfect setup for a sexy fling.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jules said. “Stel isn’t interested in dating. Right?” The crystal flamed against my palm. I didn’t answer, but my silence spoke volumes. “Oh.” Jules’s smile slowly faded into realization. “Oh.” Oh was right. I didn’t know if I wanted to date Christian, but I knew I wanted him. And I knew it was only a matter of time before the dark chemistry between us exploded into something neither of us could come back from.

“You’re sitting in my house, dating one of my sister’s and girlfriend’s best friends, so you do, in fact, need to explain yourself,” Josh said. “If you don’t like it, feel free to leave.”

“Having feelings is nothing to be ashamed of.” A tiny smile cracked the ice in Alex’s expression. “You’ll get used to it.” The Alex Volkov I knew four years ago would’ve never said such a thing, not even as a joke.

Rhys was too busy laughing to pay attention to the drama unfolding less than three feet away. “Wait till I tell Bridget. She’s going to love this.” My temporary good mood evaporated. “You won’t tell her shit.” “Sure I won’t.”

I’d waited a long time. Eventually, I would catch her, and once I did, I was never letting her go.

“Remind him to come prepared with an accomplishment to share.”

Besides, you know how Mom is with germs. She wouldn’t want a sick guest at dinner—” “Actually, I’m feeling much better.” I spun around, my pulse skyrocketing at the sight of Christian leaning against the wooden frame, his suit jacket off and one hand in his pocket. A stray lock of dark hair fell in his eye, begging me to brush it back.

My emotions swung from excitement to dread to nervousness and back again, but I felt better knowing Christian would be with me. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered again at the thought of three days in paradise with him. It was a work trip, but still. I had a strange sense whatever happened in Hawaii would change my life.

“Like what you see?” he drawled. “Yes.” I made a point of looking around the gorgeous villa. It boasted stunning views of the Pacific, and the living room opened onto a furnished lanai, which in turn led directly to our private beach. “This place is stunning.” That wasn’t what he was asking, but there was no need to inflate his ego. He knew I knew he was hot, so what was the point of saying it?

“What about your family?” I took another sip of tea. “What are they like?” Christian never talked about his parents, and I hadn’t spotted a single photo of them in his house. “Dead.” The tea went down the wrong pipe. I spluttered out a series of coughs while Christian finished his dinner like he hadn’t dropped a bombshell with the casualness of someone mentioning their family was out of town for the weekend.

“And do you think that will happen?” His low drawl condensed the air between us. “That I’ll fall in love and eat my words?” I shrugged, the casual movement at odds with the rapid beats of my heart. “Maybe. I’m not a fortune-teller.” Secretly, I hoped he would. Not because I had delusions of being the one who could “change” him but because everyone deserved to experience true love at least once in their lifetime. “One of the clauses in our contract,” Christian said, watching me with those all-knowing eyes, “is that I don’t fall in love with you.” My mouth dried. “Yes.” “Why did you put in that condition, Stella?” “Because I don’t want you to fall in love with me.” He didn’t smile at my quick quip. A long silence passed before he spoke again. “You and I, we aren’t so different,” he said softly. A spark ignited and burned up all the oxygen between us. The sound of my pulse faded into a distant whoosh. Say something, Stella. But his gaze held my voice captive, and before I could free it, his phone rang and shredded the moment to pieces.

Few people trusted me enough to close their eyes when I was in the room, and here she was, cuddling against me like I was a damn teddy bear.

Seventy thousand dollars for one moment alone with her. It was worth it.

“But if you want to know the truth…” My hand skimmed from her necklace onto the delicate slope of her shoulder. “I didn’t come to watch the photo shoot.” A gentle shiver rippled through her body when my touch trailed down her forearm. “Then why did you come?” Her question expanded between us like it was the most important thing on the beach. “For you.” I lingered on the soft, bare skin above her elbow. The sun blazed overhead, but it was nothing compared to the sparks igniting in the air. Thousands of embers peppered my skin and lit a trail of fire up my arm and into my chest. “Drop your arms for me, sweetheart. I want to see you.”

I may not be her first, but I would damn well be her last. Because once I took her, I would never let her go.

I would never make it to heaven, but that didn’t matter as long as she ruled beside me in hell. Stella was made to be my queen.

Despite what I’d said about love being a drug, Stella was my greatest high. A temptation with no escape. An obsession with no end. An addiction with no cure.

He molded me against him and stripped away my layers, one by one, until there was only me left. No walls, no masks. For the first time, I felt free.

I wondered what she was dreaming about and whether said dream included me. If not, that was unacceptable.

“I want to make a few things clear.” Christian’s lips brushed mine with each word. “Touch another man, he dies. Let another man touch you, he dies. Tell me I can’t touch you…” His grip tightened on the back of my neck as his voice dropped. “And I will fucking die.”

Perhaps I should’ve done this on a less expensive surface, but alas, it was too late.

In fact, the entire past month had been a dream, and I was scared I would wake up and find out it’d all been a figment of my imagination. There was magic in reality, no matter how temporary.

Of course, she had to choose the one place where I couldn’t easily waltz in and demand to see her. “Volkov!” I banged on the door. “Open the fucking door!” I’d been knocking and ringing the doorbell for the past five minutes, and I’d used up all my patience.

“Oh. It’s you.” A frown marred Ava’s normally friendly face when she saw me. “You’re interrupting our lunch.” “I want to talk to her.” “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” My back teeth clenched. “Stella.” Ava’s hand tightened around the doorknob. She stood squarely in the entrance, barring me from entering. “She’s not here.” “That’s fucking bullshit. I know she’s here.” I ditched the softer approach. “Step aside, Ava, or I’ll—” “Careful how you finish that sentence, Harper.” Alex appeared beside his fiancée, his eyes like chips of jade-colored ice as they roved over my disheveled appearance.

The calm and the chaos, the silence and the storm. The calm to my chaos, the silence to my storm.

“How long did this go on?” Stella finally asked, her voice dull. My hand closed around the ring. “Almost a year.” “A year.” She paled further. “You were stalking me for a year?”

a YEAR?!??....sir

I’d broken bones. Been shot at. Got lost in the desert for fucking days with the sun blistering my skin. None of that had hurt as much as this.

Josh was invited by default since he’d insisted on tagging along when he found out Alex would be attending. I let him. I had too much other shit to worry about than his delusion that I was trying to steal his best friend.

“I know,” I said. I couldn’t believe I’d sunk to conversing with plants, but here we were. “I miss her too.”

I would rather be miserable now after having been loved by you than be happy without having ever known you.

You will always be my first, last, and only love.

But my mom also left something else behind. Her one attempt at painting. She loved art, but she was a terrible artist, and even my father couldn’t lie and tell her it was good. We put it in the basement, but after she died, I dug it up and held on to it. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I resented what art had done to my family, and I liked seeing its ugliness and chaos immortalized on canvas. I had her note as well, and when I was older, I reworked the frame and placed it inside the painting. The most fucked-up part was I named it after her. Magda.

“If you have time today…” Christian’s quiet voice drew my attention back to him. “Look in the drawer where you found the files. There’s something there for you.” The uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone sparked a seed of curiosity and something warmer that slid through me like molten honey.

“What are you doing?” “Eating dessert.” Christian eased my hips up so he could pull my underwear down before he returned to his seat. “You don’t like dessert.” My voice had gone to smoke, as insubstantial as the remnants of my resistance. Christian’s slow, answering smile throbbed in my blood. “I changed my mind.”

Christian Harper on one knee, velvet box open in hand to reveal a dazzling diamond ring set with emeralds. Tears blurred my vision as I pressed a hand to my mouth. When he spoke again, the odd roughness was still there, but it was braided with so much love and hope that narrowed my world to this one moment with this one man. “Stella, will you marry me?”

One thing no one told me about being married was how often I had to interact with my wife’s friends.