Twisted Lies (Twisted, #4)

by Ana Huang

A face so exquisitely chiseled it could’ve been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Christian Harper.

I was getting better at saying no, but I still overexplained myself every time.

“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.”

An Alonso didn’t seek therapy or air their dirty laundry to a stranger. An Alonso was supposed to be perfect.

I didn’t like people touching what was mine.

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

I was weak for Stella Alonso, and I hated it.

Cyber sabotage was better than a deep tissue massage.

“Touch Stella again, and you’ll no longer have a fiancée.”

Of all the people I didn’t want to witness me crash and burn, he ranked at the top of the list. Not because I thought he’d judge me but because I was afraid he wouldn’t. A near stranger who treated me better than those who were supposed to love me unconditionally. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

the way his eyes held mine. Dark and knowing, like they could strip away every mask I showed the world and find the broken pieces of the girl hiding underneath. Like they thought the brokenness was beautiful anyway.

“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.”

“We were talking about something personal.” Raya rolled her eyes, but her expression contained a hint of nerves. “I see. Next time, refrain from doing so at a public event. It’s disrespectful.”

I’m not interested in your love life,” I said with a regal tilt of my chin. “Never said anything about love, Ms. Alonso.” “Fine, I’m not interested in your sex life.” “Hmm. That’s a shame.”

“Who did you want to see?” It was so cold my lungs burned, but still, I waited for his answer. Something amused and dangerous surfaced in his eyes before he turned away. “Good night, Stella.”

It technically wasn’t a direct correlation, but in my shock-numbed, panicked mind, it was.

He was a cobra in a king’s suit, with no patience in sight.

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.”

I didn’t want to burden them with too many of my problems,

Knowing Alex, it would be the most lavish wedding the state had ever seen. He’d already hired the top wedding planner in the country to coordinate an army of florists, caterers, photographers, videographers, and whoever else was involved in the nuptials.

In my mind, Maura would always be vibrant and full of life. But the years and disease had taken their toll, and seeing her so frail made tears thicken in my throat.

“I have a daughter, Phoebe. She’s around your age, but I haven’t seen her in a while…” Because she died. The ache in my chest returned with a vengeance.

As much as I hated Alzheimer’s for robbing her of the life she’d lived, sometimes I was grateful for it. Because the absence of good memories also meant the absence of bad ones, and at least she could forget the pain of losing her loved ones.

I knew Maura loved me even if she didn’t remember me, and she’d treated me like her own daughter when she did remember me. But I wasn’t her daughter, and I could never replace Phoebe. I didn’t want to. But I could care for her and give her as comfortable a life as possible. That meant doing everything I could to keep her at Greenfield, including making a deal with Christian.

Maura had taken care of me when I didn’t have anyone else to lean on. It was time I did the same for her. She was worth the sacrifices.

Getting ready was my favorite part of an event. Sometimes, I liked it better than the event itself.

I didn’t care if Mr. Unicorn was a shadow of his former glorious self; he’d been my companion since I was seven, and I would hold on to him until he disintegrated into dust.

Our eyes connected, and a fire lit in my stomach. He wasn’t looking at the object or anything else in the room anymore. Every ounce of his attention had redirected toward me, and I could feel the weight of it on my skin like a lover’s rough caress. Liquid electricity dripped down my spine and pooled in my stomach. With a simple look, Christian lit me up from the inside out. “Perfect.” Reverence weighed his soft assessment.

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

“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.

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

A soft exhale parted her lips at whatever she saw on my face, and the urge to push her against the wall, fist her hair, and coax her mouth open until I claimed it completely ignited in my chest.

I watched a lot of Franklin growing up.” Her face glowed with laughter. “Ah, that explains it. I was an Arthur girl myself.” I filed that away for future reference. There were no unimportant details when it came to Stella.

I could only imagine how she’d react if she discovered some of the things I’d done. Not that she ever would. There were some things she could never know.

“Sometimes, the greatest threat to a company isn’t external competition. It’s internal incompetence.”

“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.

It was all so cordial I wanted to shoot someone just to liven things up.

I hid a tiny smile before I closed the deal Stella had opened for me. I’d underestimated her.

If anyone touched a goddamn hair on her head…

“Is everything okay? You’re acting weird.” No, they’re not. Things haven’t been okay since the day I first saw you.

“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?”

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

I didn’t take my eyes off her the rest of the night, and I told myself it was because I didn’t want a repeat of my earlier scare. After all, I’d always been good at lying to myself.

Can I come in?” “Would you leave if I said no?” Her laser stare burned through her giant sunglasses and into my skin. Right.

Part of me was annoyed by his overprotectiveness when I’d just gone to the bathroom, for God’s sake. Another larger, more shameful part thrilled at the idea that he cared. Pathetic? Probably. True? Undeniably.

At least my friends brought food to my interrogation. I wasn’t above accepting bribery.

Ava’s face lit up. “I bet he’s hot,” she said. “You can tell by the watch.” “That’s what I said!” Jules beamed.

It still boggled my mind that I was best friends with a literal queen, but Bridget was so down-to-earth I forgot she was royalty half the time.

If I looked up drama queen in the dictionary, I’d find Jules Ambrose’s face next to it, but I loved her anyway.