Twisted Lies (Twisted, #4)

by Ana Huang

“I did have one question,” I said before the glass fully reached his fleshy lips. “When you groped my date at the event last night, which hand did you use?”

“My date.” I leaned back, leaving my own drink untouched. “Tall, curly dark hair, black dress. The most beautiful woman at the event.”

“I’m not interested in your apology. I’m interested in an answer.” The finely honed edge of my rage sliced through my cordial mask. The thought of him even breathing in Stella’s presence, much less fucking touching her, made acid burn in my blood. “Which. Hand?” Sweat stains bloomed on Frank’s shirt. “R-right.” “I see.” My smile returned. “Put the drink down.” He was holding it with his right hand. “I swear, I didn’t know! I—I arrived late and—” My eyes narrowed. After a beat of hesitation, he set the drink down with a tremble. I could’ve sworn I heard an actual whimper. My disdain deepened. Pathetic. I waited until Frank’s palm hit the wooden surface before I pulled the blade from my drawer and drove it through his hand. Flesh and bone yielded like butter to the cold, razor-sharp steel. An inhuman howl ripped through the room while I frowned at the blood pooling on the vintage mahogany.

“I’m in a good mood, so I’ll leave your hand intact.” I could’ve stretched our session out for another hour, but it was taco night with Stella, and I needed to buy the ingredients on my way home.

I made it halfway to the door before I stopped. A mental image of the fucker grabbing Stella’s ass flashed through my mind, and the rage resurfaced, churning like icy black waves beneath my skin. “I changed my mind.” I turned. “I’m not in a good mood after all.” The gunshot ripped through the air. Frank slumped onto the desk with a hole in the back of his head and open, lifeless eyes. I tucked the gun back into my jacket and exited into the hall, where Kage lounged against the wall. “Don’t tell me you shot him,” he said when he saw me. The office was soundproofed, but he correctly assessed my expression. “What a fucking mess.” “He pissed me off.” I checked my watch. Dammit. The only grocery store that sold Stella’s favorite salsa closed in fifteen minutes. “Clean that up for me, will you?”

“I’m a billionaire. We can do whatever we want.” I smiled at her playful eye roll. “Consider it my birthday present.” “We already celebrated your birthday,” she pointed out. I’d turned thirty-four last week. We’d celebrated with a weekend of food, sex, and me eating her pussy out until she came on my face. It’d been a good birthday.

Stella rested her head on my shoulder and stared dreamily at the landscape. “I’m in love with this place.” I wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her closer. My eyes lingered on the delicate lines of her profile, tracing a path from the stray dark curls billowing around her face to the sparkle in her eyes and the curve of her lips. I didn’t care much for art, but if I could immortalize her in that moment as a painting, I would. The setting sun cast a gorgeous glow over the island, but I didn’t bother looking at the view. I kept my gaze on Stella. “Me too.”

I would never tell him because I didn’t want to inflate his ego to Jupiter-size proportions, but I was convinced Christian could bring down the stars if he wanted.

“Good girl.”

Whatever it was, it uncorked a hidden bottle of courage that poured onto my tongue and pushed three little words out. “I love you,” I whispered. I knew he didn’t believe in love. I knew there was a strong chance he wouldn’t say it back. But I had to tell him anyway.

“The day I met you,” he said. “Was the luckiest day of my life. You’ve always been the brightest part of my world, Butterfly. And you always will be.” The depth of emotion in his words stung my eyes. “You don’t strike me as a guy who believes in luck.” “I believe in everything when it comes to you.” Including love. The implication resonated in the timbre of his voice and the way he kissed me again, like he was drowning and I was his only source of oxygen. Vital. Precious. Loved. I melted into his embrace and let it sweep me away the way it always did.

“Because the first time I saw you wasn’t the day you signed the lease at the Mirage,” I said. “It was five years ago.” Stella’s mouth parted in shock. The truth emerged in bits and pieces after years of being hidden.

Why didn’t she understand? Why couldn’t I make her see that I’d changed in the months we’d been together? That I wasn’t the same person I’d been when I made that file. “Because it was an invasion of privacy!” she yelled. Tears leaked down her cheeks. “You did not have my permission to dig into my life like that. But that’s always been our story, hasn’t it? You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you. You want other people to be an open book while you keep yours closed. I thought you were so thoughtful and perceptive because you knew all these things about me. My favorite foods, my favorite flowers…but you had that stupid dossier the whole time. Was it that easy? Just pull up the file and see what scrap you can throw my way to make me fall for you?” A strange sensation burned behind my eyes. “I haven’t looked at that file in years. I swear—” “You’re the same as my stalker.” Stella’s breaths shallowed. “No, you’re worse, because at least they didn’t make me fall in love with a lie.” Her words pierced me like a knife through my heart. “I would never hurt you,” I repeated. “You already have.” The knife twisted harder.

“Don’t do this.” My voice cracked. “Butterfly, please.” I had never begged anyone for anything. Not when my parents died, not when I’d needed startup money for my company, and not when I’d faced imminent death at the hands of a pissed-off warlord. But I would gladly get on my fucking knees and beg if it meant Stella would stay with me.

“Do you want to know another secret, Stella?” My voice was unrecognizable in its rawness. “I can’t say no to you.” Not when it came to the things that mattered. “But I will always be here if you need me, no matter how far in distance or time. I don’t care if we’re on different continents or if it’s five, fifty years in the future. I never want you to wake up and feel like you’re alone because you’re not. You’ll always have me.” My eyes burned as my final, greatest truth scraped up my throat. “I love you. So fucking much.” I thought saying those words for the first time would feel strange. They didn’t. They felt like they’d been waiting to find their home all these years and found it in her.

Our gazes collided like sparks in the air. Our relationship had turned to ashes, but the fire between us was still there, burning up space and oxygen until we were the only people left. My blood roared at the sweet relief of seeing her again. She asked me to leave her alone, and I had. Us showing up at the same bar on the same night would’ve been a coincidence, but nothing was a coincidence when it came to her. It was fate.

Our relationship had always been a dichotomy. It made sense that its death would be as well.

“How many poker tournaments have you attended in the past?” Josh asked Alex suspiciously. Exasperation filled Alex’s face. “I told you, this is my first one.” “Just making sure.” Josh plucked a card from his deck and tossed it on the table. King of hearts. “Since you’d played dozens of chess matches with him”—he jerked a thumb at me—“and I didn’t know about it for literally years.” Alex sighed.

I’d done a decent job of not thinking about Stella tonight until Josh fucking Chen brought her up. You can’t kill a guest, a voice in my head reminded me.

Josh shrugged. “Perhaps, but at least I’m not single.” My hand twitched toward my gun. “Keep provoking him, and he’ll kill you.” Rhys knew me too well. He’d been quiet most of the night, but humor lit his eyes when he looked at me. “Is something funny?” I tossed out a card without looking at it. “As a matter of fact, yes. Christian Harper moping over a girl,” he drawled. “Never thought I’d see the day.” A migraine gathered behind my temple. “I’m not moping.” It took all my willpower not to punch the shit-eating grin off his face. “I don’t mope.” What I’d been doing the past few weeks wasn’t moping. It was…processing. “That’s not what Alex said.” As usual, Josh piped up even though the conversation had nothing to do with him. “He said you showed up to his house in tears the day Stella moved in.” “I wasn’t in fucking tears!” The room quieted as every head swiveled in my direction.

My collection of plants lined the sill, silhouetted against the moonlight. They just need a little love and attention to thrive. I’d been watering and taking care of them religiously since Stella left. She loved those plants. But no matter how much care I gave them, they still looked sad and droopy, like they knew their usual caregiver was gone and was never coming back. “I know,” I said. I couldn’t believe I’d sunk to conversing with plants, but here we were. “I miss her too.”

But if I had the chance to go back in time and leave the cafe a minute before you passed or stay in my office instead of dropping by the apartment the day you signed the lease, I wouldn’t. Even knowing what the outcome would be. Even knowing that I would eventually get my heart broken. Because all the most beautiful days of my life have been with you, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world. I would rather be miserable now after having been loved by you than be happy without having ever known you.

August 12 Stella, It’s two-thirty in the morning as I write this. I haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. But I couldn’t go to sleep without telling you this… I’m trying, Butterfly. I’m trying so fucking hard. To stay away from you. To not think about you. To not love you. My life would be so much easier if I could move on, but I know I can’t. Even if you never forgive me. Even if you never talk to me again. Even if you move on. I’ll still love you. You will always be my first, last, and only love.

“Julian…” I looked him in the eye. He smiled, his face bright with sick anticipation. “I would rather die than be with you.” I headbutted him as hard as I could. His howl of pain ricocheted through the cabin.

“Stella.” Relief softened the razor edges of his fury. He said my name like a prayer, a whisper so raw and heartfelt it obliterated any resistance I might’ve had. I didn’t think. I didn’t speak. I just crossed the room and crumpled into his arms.

“Stay with me.” I softened the words into a request, not an order. “Just for tonight. Please.” We were in the safety of my penthouse, but it wasn’t enough. I’d almost lost her, and I needed her close. I needed to see her, touch her, comfort her. Reassure myself she was actually there and not a figment of my imagination. Only then could I breathe.

Jules recovered first. “First of all, Julian deserves jail.” She shook with fury. “Second of all, I’m going to jail for what I’ll do if I ever come across him. I will cut his balls off, do you hear me? I’ll slice them open with a machete and shove them down his throat so he chokes—“

Stella: Come home to me.

I didn’t ask questions about what he did in the five hours he was gone. The world wasn’t black and white, no matter how much I wished it were. And sometimes, we found our happiness in the shades of gray.

He pushed my dress up around my waist and hooked his fingers into the elastic band of my underwear. The air condensed into something thin and infinitely flammable. “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.”

Across from us, Alex resembled a statue in his stillness. He was always attuned to Ava, but in that moment, he looked at her like the world was the night sky and she was the only star in existence.

“You should’ve asked him for a bathtub of diamonds,” Jules told Ava. “He would’ve made it happen.” Ava had needed a breather from all the mingling required of the bride, so Bridget, Jules, and I had ushered her off to a corner while the rest of the guests drank and danced. “Jules,” Ava said patiently. “What would I do with a bathtub of diamonds at my wedding?” “Roll around it like the rich bitch you are. And I mean that in the most affectionate way.” Jules’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Or you could pass them out to your guests, specifically your wonderful bridesmaids, who very much did not get you into trouble in Barcelona.”

I spluttered at the mention of Ava’s bachelorette trip. “Jules.” “What? It was harmless fun. Who knew Alex would get so upset about male strippers? It was a bachelorette party.” “I think it was less the strippers and more the waking up in a strange hotel in Ibiza part,” Bridget said dryly. “I think it was both,” I decided. We’d been fine, but the guys had been less than pleased when they found out about, well, everything. Honestly, they shouldn’t talk after what happened to them and the banana float.

Natalia was my sister by blood, but Ava, Bridget, and Jules would always be my sisters by choice.

“I should take a photo of this moment,” Rhys drawled as he and Bridget passed us. My friends had paired up to dance after the music shifted to a slow song and Ava’s cousin Farrah and her husband Blake pulled her and Alex away. “A besotted Christian Harper. What a sight. I should blast it out to the Harper Security alumni network. The guys would love it.” Christian narrowed his eyes. “You’re one to talk, Larsen. Didn’t I see pictures of you attending a royal tea party the other week? With a cat in your lap, no less.” Color rose on Rhys’s cheekbones. “It was not a tea party,” he growled. “It was a lunch ceremony, and Meadows gets upset when we leave her alone for too long. At least I didn’t buy up all the fucking wheatgrass in the grocery store…” Bridget caught my eye and shook her head. Men, she mouthed, her expression one of exasperated affection. I stifled a laugh.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Christian walked alongside me, his suits traded for a casual linen shirt and pants. “Just a penny? I thought you were a billionaire.” “A quarter then. Final offer,” he said with the seriousness of someone negotiating a multimillion-dollar contract.

Because before me, framed by pastel-covered hills and the golden hues of sunset, was a sight I’d never anticipated. 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 they narrowed my world to this one moment with this one man. “Stella, will you marry me?”

Maura had made it to our wedding, where she’d been the most lucid I’d seen her in years. A month later, right after Christian and I returned from our honeymoon, she’d passed away in her sleep. I’d been devastated, but I knew she’d been ready to go and that she was in a happier place now. Even though she hadn’t remembered me in the last years of her life, a part of me wondered whether she’d been waiting for me to find my home before she moved on.

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

The Monopoly pieces went flying from the force of his pounding. I silently cursed as one of them landed in my wine. There was no fucking way I’d drink the rest when it’d been tainted by a dirty game piece.

With her blond hair and gray eyes, little Camilla von Ascheberg was a miniature clone of her parents. She also looked surprisingly regal for a two-year-old in her blue dress and matching hair bow. Her brow scrunched when Josh and Niko accidentally knocked over a glass of water. “Daddy.” She tugged on her father’s sleeve and pointed at the spill. I could’ve sworn I heard a note of disapproval. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Rhys sighed. “Happens every year.” “I never thought I’d say this, but Rhys’s kid is the only one who isn’t a little terror,” I muttered to Stella. At least Camilla had the decency to sit still.

Stella sat next to me, watching our conversation with amusement. She was used to my strange friendship with Rhys. Once, she tried to call it a bromance, which I shut down immediately. Ab-so-fuckinglutely not. I was not a bromance kind of guy, and neither was Rhys, who appeared unfazed by my last comment.

I waited until she left before I arched an eyebrow at Rhys. “No idea what you’re talking about.” “Sure you don’t, Mr. I Don’t Believe in Love.” Aggravation lit in my chest. “Are you still going on about that? It’s been five…” I lowered my voice so Sofia and Niko couldn’t hear. “Five fucking years.” “Oh, I’m going to give you shit about it for the rest of our lives, so get used to it,” Rhys said. “And when you have children, you’ll eat your words again.” He leaned back and laced his hands behind his head with a smug smile. “Good track record of that happening.” I couldn’t stand his ass. Before I could respond, Stella poked her head out from the kitchen. “Christian? Can you come here? I need your help with something.” “Be right there.” I rose and pinned a laughing Rhys with a cool stare. “While I help my wife, you think about when Camilla grows up and starts dating,” I said, wiping the smile off his face. “Have fun.” Satisfaction filled me when I heard his low growl.

When I walked into the kitchen, I found Stella downing what must’ve been her fifth glass of water that night. “Are you sure you don’t want any wine?” She wasn’t a big drinker, but she usually had a glass or two. “It’s a great vintage.” “Yes, I’m sure.” She set her glass down and looked at me with an oddly nervous expression. “I can’t drink alcohol right now.” She said it with meaning, like I was supposed to know what that meant. Why would it matter that she wasn’t drinking alcohol? Granted, it was a bit odd that she… I can’t drink alcohol right now. I replayed her words. Can’t. Not don’t want to. She couldn’t drink alcohol, which likely meant… My pulse slowed into one long, disbelieving beat. “I didn’t want to tell you in front of the others, but I also couldn’t wait anymore.” Stella’s voice lowered. “Christian, I’m pregnant.” “You’re pregnant,” I repeated. The words echoed in my head, too gilded with shock to sink in fully. Stella confirmed with a nod, her face glowing with equal parts excitement and nervousness. Pregnant. Babies. Our baby. The breath left my lungs in one fell swoop. I closed the distance between us with two long strides and kissed her fiercely, my heart thudding hard enough to bruise. Forget every uncharitable thought I’d had about children. We were going to be parents. I was going to be a father, and I was going to see Stella swell with our child. A little boy, perhaps, with curls and brown skin. Or a little girl with her mother’s green eyes and sweet s...