Fallen Love (Sinful Truths Book 5)

by Ella Miles

  Kai slaps Enzo again.

  “Stingray,” he says, his voice begging to let him talk.

  “Don’t!” Kai takes a shuddering breath. “Don’t. You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore. Only Zeke can call me that.”

  I gulp, not liking that at all. With as pissed as Kai is, I wouldn’t doubt if she wanted to kiss me right now to get back at Enzo. She stomps over to Siren, and I instinctively go over. I’m pissed at Siren, but I won’t let Kai touch her.

  “How could you?” Kai says, her heart breaking.

  It’s then I realize my heart isn’t broken. It’s just hardened, putting up shield after shield, not wanting to allow Siren back in again. But there’s a problem—Siren is already on the inside with me. I should have pushed her out before I started putting my walls back up.

  Kai moves her hand up to slap Siren, so I move to prevent her from touching Siren, but Kai’s hand falls on my cheek.

  I blink rapidly, not understanding.

  “I can’t slap Siren because she’s pregnant,” Kai says, like that somehow makes sense for her to instead slap me.

  Kai turns in her boots and marches down the stairs. Enzo takes a deep breath like he’s gaining courage. He doesn’t look at me or Siren. He’s focused on his wife. Then he’s gone too.

  It’s just me and Siren alone on the top deck, with nothing but the stars and the sound of the waves.

  “I’m—” Siren starts.

  “If you end that sentence with ‘sorry,’ I’m going to jump over the railing and swim until I’m too exhausted to swim anymore. Until I drown in the ocean like I should have all those months ago. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t want to know why. I don’t want some inexcusable apology. Just…” I throw my hands up, but I have no idea how to make this better. No idea what to say or do. “Just…” I try again. But again, I don’t know what I need.

  My eyes look at Siren, really look at her for the first time. I see her disheveled hair where Enzo’s hands touched. I see her smeared lipstick and raccoon eyes from her running mascara. The straps of her dress are halfway down her biceps. Her black lace bra is completely visible on one side. Her dress is still pulled up high on her thigh.

  I grind my teeth, my jaw clenching, my veins bulging. I ball up my fists. I need to punch something. I should find Enzo and beat the shit out of him. I don’t understand what happened exactly. They both were dressed up. Why?

  “Did you complete your task?” I ask, carefully and slowly. I need to know this was all for something. That Siren gained some freedom when she kissed Enzo. I need to know this wasn’t all for nothing.

  She nods.

  I can’t look at her. I stare out at the dark ocean, but I can still see her out of the corner of my eye. She doesn’t look ashamed. She doesn’t look scared. She doesn’t look angry, timid, or lost. She looks begging. Not for forgiveness, but for something else I don’t understand. I thought I knew all of her looks, but this one I’ve yet to learn. Right now isn’t the time for me to study this new one.

  “Good,” I finally say, and then I’m walking away. I think she might follow me, but as I descend the stairs, I’m alone. I don’t hear her footsteps. I don’t feel her presence.

  I go all the way to the deepest part of the ship into one of the rooms Enzo and I use to monitor security systems. I unlock the door and step inside. Siren doesn’t have the access code to my knowledge. She can’t get in if she comes looking for me.

  I slam the door, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

  “Siren, what have you done?” I fall into the spinning chair and kick my feet up onto the desk.

  I listen at the door. She’s not coming after me. I would feel her descending already even before I heard her.

  Siren would have felt the same. That’s how connected we are. When she kissed Enzo, she would have felt us coming. Definitely heard our footsteps and voices. I know she saw me before she kissed him. But how many kisses did they share before we arrived? Was that the only one?

  Siren knew we were there, and she kissed him like that was the reason for kissing him.

  “Stop thinking about it, asshole,” I murmur to myself. I need some time to calm down, but I don’t know how to do that.

  I see a bottle of bourbon sitting on the desk. I grab it and hold it to my chest like I’m going to get the effects of the alcohol simply by pressing the bottle to my body. I pick up my phone and press the number without thinking it through.

  Langston, one of my other best friends, is supposedly off chasing down his girlfriend, Liesel. But right now, I need him. I don’t give a damn that he hasn’t answered any of my other phone calls. I need him, so he better fucking answer.

  His voicemail greets me instead, but I still need to talk.

  “Langston, you asshole, this is Zeke. Your best friend you left for dead. Yea, I’m alive, you motherfucker. I’m alive, and you haven’t come to see me. What the hell is that? I know you are trying to win Liesel back, but I came back from the dead—I think that warrants a visit from my best friend.

  “Yea, that’s right. I called you my best friend. And right now, I mean it, even though you’re on my shit list for not coming to see me already. You have no idea the shit I’m in. Stingray is broken. I can’t be there for her this time, because her fucking husband kissed my wife! Yep, you heard me correctly. I have a wife. I’d love for you to meet her, even though I’m pissed.”

  I stare down at the bottle I want to completely consume. I’m sure the answering machine has cut me off by now, but I keep talking anyway.

  “I’m lost, man. I’ve never felt this lost and scared before. I didn’t know what love could do to a man. Now I know. Loving someone makes me crazy. It fucks with my head. It makes me weak and vulnerable. It makes it so she’s the only person in the world I care about liking me. I don’t even care if I fix my relationship with Enzo, I just want to fix things with her.

  “And no, it’s not just so I can get some pussy, although having the same magnificent woman to come home to every night is nice. No, I just want…fuck, just come back, man. I don’t understand what your deal is, but a fight of epic proportions is about to go down. I need you. We all do. Just get your ass back here and bring Liesel. I know me and her don’t always get along, but if you love her, then that’s enough for me. I’ll go to battle for you to keep her. But I need my best friend by my side, and that’s you, asshole. Just don’t tell Enzo that. Or Kai. Or Siren.”

  I end the call and toss my phone on the counter. I should drink the entire bottle of whiskey in my hand and then sleep the rest of the night in here. But after everything we’ve been through, all the danger we’ve experienced, I know life is short. There are no guarantees that we get tomorrow. I’ve waisted too much time not spent with Siren. I’m not going to waist another second.

  I set the bottle down and then make my way back upstairs, Siren still waiting. She’s sitting at the piano; her fingers curled over the keyboard. She’s not really playing; she seems more angry with the piano than anything. She bangs on it roughly, then apologizes sweetly as she moves her fingers over the keys.

  And then, she stops. Her fingers are no longer gliding. She’s reaching for a wine glass next to her, her head is turned, and I see the mascara lines down her cheeks where her tears have fallen.

  She takes a large gulp of the wine, thoroughly pissing me off.

  “You shouldn’t be doing that,” I growl. I guess it’s time to show her how angry I am.

  25

  Siren

  Zeke came back. Did he figure out the truth?

  Or is he here to punish me for hurting him? For destroying two relationships with one kiss? For proving that no relationship, no matter how loving, is unbreakable?

  “Put the wine glass down,” he growls. He’s pissed I’m drinking while pregnant.

  “No. I’m sure you’re drunk off your ass. I think I can have one glass of wine,” I spit back. I don’t even know why I’m drinking the wine at all. I don’t
want to hurt my baby in any way, but I’m so damn afraid. I know I’m fucking this all up. I don’t know how to help. I don’t know how to keep my baby safe. I can’t even keep myself safe.

  “I’m not drunk.” Zeke walks toward me, but I don’t give him my full attention. I’m still seated at the piano, gripping my wine glass like a shield.

  “Sure, you aren’t.” I roll my eyes, lifting the glass to my lips again, needing to feel something, but I can’t. I don’t even feel sorry about what I did. It had to be done. If I really love Zeke and he really loves me, then our relationship will survive. And this is barely a blip on Kai and Enzo’s relationship. They will be made up by the morning if they aren’t already.

  Zeke stands over me, breathing down on me. I don’t smell a drop of alcohol on his breath.

  “I’m not the one who is lying,” Zeke says, yanking the glass from my hand and throwing it on the floor, shattering the crystal glass into thousands of pieces.

  He knows. He knows why I kissed Enzo. Why I shoved my hand in his pants and made us look like we had been making out for hours instead of just the single kiss.

  “Can we fix this?” Zeke asks, his eyes searing down at my flesh, my overexposed skin in this dress.

  I swallow hard against the growing dryness of my throat caused by Zeke’s intense stare. “We could, but we shouldn’t—yet.”

  “Did you call Bishop?”

  “Yes. I’ll be fixed tomorrow morning,” I say, also indicating when Bishop will attack us. Bishop won’t wait, not now that our world is in chaos.

  Zeke stares up at the sky like he wants to curse the stars for letting this happen, for the pain he’s feeling. He has no idea how hard it was to betray him like that, knowing it was the only way to protect him. He doesn’t know what I know. He doesn’t know the truth. And hopefully, I will have fixed everything before I have to tell him, before he knows the thoughts in my head.

  “I should hate you,” Zeke says calmly.

  “You should,” I agree.

  “But I don’t.”

  I nod, already knowing that. It’s why Bishop’s plan is stupid. His plan will only work for a few hours. The chaos and turmoil we feel will last less than twenty-four hours. Our relationships are too strong.

  Zeke stares at the piano like it’s his enemy. “Play for me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you owe me.” His eyebrow raises in a snarky way.

  He’s right. I do owe him.

  But I want to burn the piano to the ground, destroying the evidence of my sin. I don’t want to play.

  Zeke takes a seat on the bench facing the piano, spreads his legs wide, and then pats a spot on the bench in between his legs and the piano.

  I move to sit down next to him instead of in front of him, but Zeke grabs my hand and pushes me into the small space in front of him. The back of my dress is mostly backless, so my skin is flush against his front. I can feel the coolness of his leather jacket, combined with his warm breath, on my bare skin.

  “Play for me,” he breathes. “Not like you played for him. I want a song all my own.”

  Chills dance over my skin at his words. I bite my lip, trying to keep the feelings at bay. He’s not going to let me act on my feelings. He may be forgiving, but he’s not going to fuck me after seeing my tongue down one of his best friend’s throats.

  I rest my hand over the keys, considering what song I want to play.

  “Don’t get stage fright now. Play for me,” Zeke growls impatiently in my ear, taunting me, telling me he knows it wasn’t this hard for me to sing for Enzo, so it shouldn’t be hard to play for him either.

  But it is. Playing for Enzo was about manipulating him. Playing for Zeke is about showing him that I love him more than life itself. That every sin I commit, every truth I tell, is for him.

  My hands fall to my lap as I can’t come up with a song to play. Zeke puts his hands on top of mine and brings them to the piano. “Play, Siren. Just play,” his voice is kinder now, with plenty of begging. He needs this.

  I don’t think. I play. At first, my fingers just move over the keys in a familiar way, combining several popular songs. I play a little of Bieber, Swift, and Eilish. But quickly, my fingers take on a life of their own. I no longer recognize the melody I’m playing, but it’s a beautiful, haunting sound. One that drives me to play faster, to find the next verse, the next melody. I become greedy, wanting to hear the song I’ve just created. I want to know. I want to hear it.

  More. More. More.

  I chase the keys, letting the emotions of the song drive through me until I’m consumed by them.

  Zeke’s hands run up and down my arms, feeling me play in a new intimacy. His head rests on my shoulder. His legs wrap tighter around my hips until it feels like we are both playing together.

  “Sing,” Zeke says, his throat dry as he speaks the word like a command and a desire.

  I open my mouth, having no clue what’s going to come out. At first, it’s a hum, a single syllable. But then the words come to me, like a gift from the gods.

  I step off the cliff and then I’m falling.

  The jump is freeing.

  I could be flying.

  Drifting higher and higher.

  A bird in the sky.

  I feel so light; I’m sure the air could lift me up.

  But I’m not flying.

  I’m falling.

  Falling through time and space.

  Falling through your open hands.

  Falling to the deepest hell.

  I won’t survive the fall.

  I don’t need to either.

  Don’t catch me.

  Promise, to never catch me.

  Just don’t let our love fall.

  My song is a cry to Zeke to trust me. To love me. To never hurt me. To never betray our love. It’s a promise that I will never betray him either, even when it appears like I am.

  Zeke lifts my hands from the piano, and my song stops.

  “I hate what you did,” Zeke says honestly.

  “I do too.”

  “I won’t ask you why.”

  I nod.

  “I want to fuck you,” he whispers into my ear.

  I bite my lip. “Bishop is watching. He has eyes on one of the other yachts.”

  Bishop told me he had men watching us. Men whose loyalty was to him, not Kai and Enzo.

  Zeke stiffens, his eyes searching out in the darkness like he could see the betrayer through the blackness and miles between us.

  “Take from me,” I say, knowing we still need to appear angry with each other so Bishop will think I did a good job.

  Zeke frowns.

  “You want me. You take me,” I say, needing this so badly. I need him to be rough. I need him to claim me as his.

  “You sure?” his voice so damn low and raspy.

  “More than I want my heart to keep pumping my body with blood.”

  His eyes tell me all I need to know. That this is an ‘I love you’ fuck, not an ‘I hate you’ fuck, but from the outsider’s view, no one would know.

  Except us—we will know. This is all about our complicated love story.

  Zeke’s hands dance one by one down my bare back. I tense with each touch, trying to keep the ecstasy off my face. Zeke has the power to fucking demolish me with one kiss. One kiss could change everything. If he had kissed Kai and I’d walked in, how would I feel?

  Devastated.

  Despondent.

  So lost and broken.

  The fact that Zeke can sit here and hold me right now, that he wants to kiss and fuck me, just shows that he is the better person. He’s so much better than I am. So much better.

  His hand continues down until he touches the zipper of my dress. I think he’s going to unzip it, reveal more of my skin, but he doesn’t.

  I lick my lips and lean back toward him, begging for a kiss. I would beg on my knees if it meant he would kiss me.

  Instead, Zeke’s eyes darken as he grabs my chin. �
��You think I want to kiss your mouth after you kissed him?” He chuckles darkly. Then his hand goes up my back, until he’s fisting my hair, pulling my head back roughly, exposing my neck and chest to him.

  His teeth bite on my clavicle like he’s a goddamn vampire. Apparently, I’m into vampires because my insides flood with desire and an ache only Zeke can cause.

  “Did Enzo turn you on like this?” Zeke asks roughly, even though he already knows the answer.

  “No.”

  Zeke kisses up my neck, and his hand pushes into my bra, finding my nipple and pinching it harshly. “Did he touch you like this?”

  “No,” I gasp, feeling too good. My head falls back on Zeke’s chest. There is no way Bishop’s spies wouldn’t think I’m enjoying every second of this. But Zeke’s dark eyes, gruff voice, and anger might save us. There is no denying his pain etched into every hard line of his face.

  Suddenly, Zeke jerks us up off the bench and bends me over the piano. My hands bang against the keys as I hold on. Zeke is bent over me. His hands are gliding down my body, claiming every part of me. “Did you fuck him?”

  “No.”

  Zeke pushes my dress up over my ass, and then he’s yanking my panties down, his finger finding how wet I am as he dips slowly inside me, teasing me but not giving me what I want.

  “Did you get wet for him?”

  “No, only you.”

  “Damn right. You are mine.”

  He slaps my ass hard. This isn’t for show. This is because he’s angry.

  I hear his zipper, but Zeke is still clothed. He’s going to fuck me with his clothes on. He’s going to fuck me without letting me touch him.

  “Zeke, I need—” I try to reach back, but he grabs my wrists. He yanks them behind my back, pulling roughly until my shoulders ache at the tension.

  And then his cock is pushing at me. But he’s not pushing at my entrance. He’s pushing at my ass.

  “Zeke,” I warn. I’m terrified Julian is going to end up back in my head again, all my trauma flooding back. I want to be here with Zeke, not trapped in my nightmares.