Twisted Lies (Twisted, #4)

by Ana Huang

To everyone whose favorite color is morally gray.

“You always get your way, don’t you?” I asked lightly, trying to dissolve the inexplicable tension blanketing the air. He slid a brief glance in my direction before refocusing on the road. “Not always.”

A hint of irritation hardened Christian’s otherwise smooth reply. He stepped in front of me, blocking me from Delamonte Suit’s view and vice versa. The other man raised an eyebrow before his mask of indifference fell away to reveal a smirk. He stepped around Christian, so deliberately it was almost like he was taunting him, and held out his hand. “Dante Russo.”

If we didn’t have such a long history together, and if I didn’t owe him for the favor he did me, his head would already be shattered on the bar cart near him. Not only for helping himself to my liquor, but for his less than amusing show in the lobby. I didn’t like people touching what was mine.

“Perhaps if you took your own advice, you wouldn’t be sleeping in a different room than your fiancée.” Satisfaction filled my chest at his narrowed eyes. If Stella was my weakness, Vivian was his. I wasn’t interested in the ins and outs of their relationship, but it amused me to see him snarl every time I brought up the fiancée he claimed to hate.

New series??

The Valhalla Club prided itself on its exclusive, invite-only memberships for the world’s wealthiest and most powerful. A good number of those members, including myself, engaged in less than legal activities.

If my thoughts were chaos, she was my anchor. They always went back to her.

Twin flames of resentment and frustration burned in my chest. I was weak for Stella Alonso, and I hated it.

“Touch Stella again, and you’ll no longer have a fiancée.” I slammed the door in his face. Dante was my first client and an old friend. I didn’t provoke him often. But like I said, I didn’t like people touching what was mine.

There was only one puzzle I hadn’t solved. Yet. I ran my thumb over the small turquoise ring nestled in my pocket. Once I did, I could put my disturbing obsession with Stella Alonso behind me once and for all.

“We talked for five minutes.” “It only takes one to make an impression.” “One minute isn’t enough to get to know someone.” “I didn’t say get to know someone.” Christian brought his wine to his lips, his words relaxed yet perceptive. “I said make an impression.” “What impression did I make on you?” The question sparked and hissed like a live wire between us, swallowing enough oxygen to make every breath a struggle. Christian set his glass down with a precision that pulsed in my veins. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” Surprise tinged with hurt bloomed in my chest. “That bad?” From what I remembered, our first meeting had been fairly standard. I’d said a total of two words to him. “No.” The word was a rough caress against my skin. “That good.”

Perhaps because it was easier to share secrets with someone who didn’t know me well and, therefore, would hold less judgment.

“But…” Your face is so pretty. “People will know it’s you if we attend events together, so what’s the point of not showing your face?” “I have no problem with people knowing we’re together.” The smoothness of his words wrapped around me like a silken scarf.

A smile flickered over his mouth. “Do we have a deal, then?” “As long as you agree to my conditions as well.” This time, I was the one who smiled at his flash of surprise. “You didn’t think you were the only one who got to make the rules, did you?” “Of course not.” Lazy amusement surfaced in his eyes. “What are your terms?”

“One, we engage in physical contact only when necessary. Handholding is okay. Kissing is permitted on a case-by-case status. No sex.” I peeked at Christian to see if that would be a dealbreaker. His expression remained impassive, so I continued. “Two, we continue the arrangement as long as it’s beneficial to both of us. If either of us wants to end it for whatever reason, we give the other two weeks’ notice. And finally…” I took a deep breath. “We remember what this is. A fake relationship. That means no catching feelings and no falling in love with each other.”

“Good. And don’t worry, Ms. Alonso.” Laughter remained in Christian’s voice as he lifted his glass to his lips. “I don’t believe in love.”

We stayed at the restaurant for another half hour before Ava had to meet Alex for some wedding thing and Jules went to “surprise” Josh after his shift at the hospital. I was pretty sure that was code for sex, but I wisely chose not to ask.

Christian Harper was just a man. Not a king, even if he was richer than one, and not a god, even if he looked like one.

“You’re early.” Getting ready was my favorite part of an event. Sometimes, I liked it better than the event itself.

“You think you know everything.” “I do.” The words rang with the confidence of someone who truly believed what they were saying. No wonder his name was Christian. He had a major God complex.

“I will. I’m just waiting for the right photo opportunity.” I eased a calming breath through my lungs. “Maybe I’ll post tonight.” If a fancy gala didn’t make for good social media fodder, I didn’t know what would. “Good.” Awareness flushed through me at the hint of possessiveness in his voice.

“Careful, Stella.” His low warning pulsed between my legs. “I’m not the gentleman you think I am.”

My reply fought its way past my dry throat. “I don’t think you’re a gentleman at all.” A slow, lazy smile tugged at his lips. “Smart girl.”

Black had always been my favorite color. Silent. Deadly. Impenetrable. I felt at home in it, like shadows merging with the inky wells of night. Yet in the span of a second, she’d upended that as she had every other thing in my life.

The seats for this event were eight thousand dollars a pop. I’d spent more than that on her dress, and it’d been worth every cent.

Green eyes. Green dress. Symbolic of life and nature. Green. Apparently, it was my new favorite fucking color.

It wasn’t love. But it was maddening.

“You never told me what the event is for.” She avoided my eyes as she looked around the room again. “Ocean conservation?” The stranglehold around my chest had loosened, but the release left me oddly dissatisfied. “Close. Baby turtles.”

There were no unimportant details when it came to Stella.

“Speaking of quality…” Kurtz turned to Stella, who’d been watching our exchange with a bemused expression. “Who is your stunning date?” She answered after several beats of hesitation. “I’m Stella.” She graced him with a tentative smile. Something dark and volatile burned in the pit of my stomach. “I’m Mike.” He oozed sleazy charm as he held out his hand. She didn’t get a chance to shake it before I cut in between them to whisk two glasses of champagne off a passing server’s tray.

He nodded at Stella. “Stella, it was lovely meeting you. I hope to see you again soon, and with a more agreeable date.” My hand flexed around my champagne glass. Over my dead fucking body.

Surprise crossed her face when she saw me. “Hey! Did you close the—” Her sentence cut off with a soft gasp when I closed the distance between us and backed her against the wall. “Where were you?” My pulse beat a furious rhythm as I scanned her from head to toe, searching for injuries or signs of distress while she stared at me like I was an alien that’d crash-landed on earth. “I was in the bathroom.” She spoke slowly the way she would to a child. It was only then I noticed the bathroom signs marking the doors. A frown creased her brow. “Is everything okay? You’re acting weird.” No, they’re not. Things haven’t been okay since the day I first saw you. “I thought something happened to you.” The roughness of my voice startled me almost as much as the intensity of my relief. I shouldn’t care this much. Nothing good ever came from allowing other people control over my emotions.

“Someone spilled champagne on my dress. I was trying to fix it.” My eyes dropped to the small, dark stain on her skirt. “It didn’t work.” Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “I’m so sorry. I know how expensive it must’ve been. I’ll find a way to pay—” “Fuck the dress.” It’d cost nearly ten thousand dollars, but I couldn’t summon two shits about what happened to it. If I had my way, I would tear it off her myself. A hot, heady awareness replaced my panic. No one else was in the hallway, and Stella’s scent—fresh, subtle, but damn intoxicating—clouded my head.

“What I want…” I pressed a thumb against the pulse at the base of her neck. Its wild flutter told me she wasn’t as indifferent to the pull between us as she pretended to be. “Is for you to be safe. There are bad people in this world, Butterfly, and some of them are in the room right outside. So next time, I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a conversation with the Queen of fucking England. Interrupt me. Understand?” Stella’s eyes narrowed. “Butterfly?” Beautiful. Elusive. Hard to catch. When I didn’t answer, she released an exhale that caressed my chest and tightened my groin to the point of pain. “Is that all you want?” “Not even close.”

“Because I don’t want to be jailed for murder if anyone touches a hair on your head.”

My morning visitor was nothing if not persistent. “Stella Alonso! You can’t hide from me.” A pause, followed by a more conciliatory, “I have matcha.”

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Jules repeated. “You didn’t tag him, but that watch…” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I can tell just by his hand that he’s hot.”

When I read a romance book, watched a romantic scene, or saw cute couples at dinner, a yearning for something similar tugged at my gut. But once the book or movie was over and I re-entered the bright light of reality, the yearning disappeared. Romanticizing love was easy. Falling in love was harder, especially when my previous relationships had all lacked…something. Some sort of emotional connection that would make the risk of falling worth it. Plus, I’d gotten used to being single, and I doubted the reality of love could live up to my fantasies of it, so I didn’t even try.

“Is sex part of the deal? If it’s not, it should be. Christian looks like he would be a beast in bed.” As expected, Jules was the first to get over her shock and jump straight to the dirty part. “No offense, but you could use a little lovin’ in your life. As much as we adore you, there are some things we can’t provide.”

I stared at Stella’s latest Instagram post from our ride to the fundraiser over the weekend. My hand on her bare thigh, the vivid green of her gown contrasting with the coal black sleeve of my suit. Some photos were worth a thousand words. This photo said only one. Mine.

My feelings toward Stella were…unusual, but they weren’t love. It was hard to feel something I actively despised.

That, and a world without Stella in it was one that didn’t deserve to exist.

That’s my girl.

My first order of business after I left her room was another call to Brock, who I ordered to bring up the essentials—night clothes, toiletries, that ugly unicorn Stella loved so much.

I glared at the raggedy stuffed animal polluting my living room. I didn’t understand why Stella loved it so much, or why her followers would rather cuddle with it than me—I hated cuddling, but it was the principle of the matter—but

Croissants were a gift of heaven. I was sure of it.

While you’re here, you will sleep in the guest room and adhere to the house rules. No bringing friends or men over…” His voice iced at the word men.

“I’ve got this under control. Besides, Christian is the security expert, and you have enough on your plate with the wedding.” “Screw the wedding—crap. Hold on.” Ava must’ve covered the speaker because her words became muffled. “No, honey, of course I still want to get married! I was talking to Stella about the, um, wedding planner…no, don’t fire her. She’s great. I was just frustrated in the moment. Bridal nerves, you know. I’m fine now. Yes, I promise...why did I call for you? Uh, I’m craving those new raspberry lemon cookies from Crumble & Bake. Can you please run down and get some for me? Thank you! Love you.” Ava returned, sounding breathless. “Sorry about that. Alex has been so on edge about the wedding. He made our florist cry the other day.” She sighed. “We’re working on his interpersonal skills.”

She was my biggest distraction. My weakness. That was why I’d tried to keep my distance that morning, but I didn’t fucking appreciate her telling me she didn’t care if I went out and fucked other women. Like I’d been able to focus on any other woman since I met her. I’d lasted less than a day trying to stay away from her.

“Brock will not be accompanying you. I will.” His words contained so much frost I could’ve used them to carve an ice sculpture. “His job is to stay out of sight and keep you safe. Nothing else. Has he been doing his job, Stella?” I sensed it was a trick question. “Yes?” I ventured. I didn’t know what raised Christian’s hackles, but I didn’t want to get Brock fired. “Good.”