Sinful Truth (Sinful Truths Book 1)

by Ella Miles

  I should thank him, though. Because if the other scenario had happened and he was a good lay, I might have gone out with him again. I might have fallen in love with him before I realized what a monster he is. This way, there is no chance of me falling in love. No chance of a broken heart. Just a broken leg if I don’t behave.

  “Twenty million,” the bidder says in a deep, gravelly voice. The kind of voice that says this ends now. I’m already his, and he won’t let any other man win.

  Oscar drops his mic, and silence turns to murmuring. Every man in this room has money. Every man in this room could drop that kind of money to buy me if they wanted to, but these men also like a bargain. They like a good deal, and they won’t spend a fortune on one woman when they could buy five for the same price.

  I let my eyes drop, making sure my pussy hasn’t turned to gold or something, and that’s why this man is bidding so high. But it hasn’t. I don’t have a clue why he thinks I’m so special to him.

  Everyone turns their head to the other bidder, waiting to see what he’ll do.

  “Twenty-five million,” he says casually, but I can hear the fear in his voice. This is as high as he can go. He won’t bid again.

  “Thirty,” the other man says almost immediately.

  Heads snap back and forth, giving me whiplash.

  “Thirty million going once.”

  Silence.

  “Twice.”

  Nothing.

  “Sold.”

  Sold—that word is going to change my life. Most likely for the worse. But maybe I can find a way to use the situation to my advantage. I was just sold for $30 million. I’m valuable. Use it.

  Before I realize what’s happening, two of the guards have me by my arms and are forcing me off stage.

  I try to speak, but one look from the guard who has been relatively nice so far shuts me up. I guess when you are worth thirty million dollars, no one lets you talk or walk or do anything on your own—at least not until the transaction has been made.

  My robe is shoved at me.

  “Put it on,” the guard says.

  I do, happy to have clothes on again. I look around and realize I wasn’t brought back to the cage where I was held with the other girls. I’m back in the dressing room, except this time there are no beauticians waiting to style me. This time it’s just me and the two guards.

  “What happens now?” I ask as I tie the sash tightly around my waist and fold my arms across my chest.

  “We wait for the money to be deposited. Then you will go to your new owner,” the guard says.

  “I’m not property. You can’t just sell me.”

  He grins. “We already did.”

  Fight—that is who I am. I fight.

  I don’t care that these men have more muscle in a single-arm than I do in my entire body. I don’t care that they have guns while I only have nails for a weapon. None of that will stop me from fighting.

  I run full force in the guard’s direction—angry, pissed, and unconfined. At the last second, I kick my foot up, using the pointed heel of my shoe to dig into his groin.

  I hit my target.

  I grin as he doubles over in pain.

  I hear the other guard coming at me from behind, and I elbow him, hearing the whoosh of the blood spilling from his nose when I break it. I feel invincible in this moment. I can take on two grown men, no problem. Where I come from, you learned to be scrappy or you didn’t survive. I’m a survivor.

  I’ll sneak out the back and never return.

  I’ll hot-wire a car and then steal a boat. I’ll be gone from this god-forsaken island. I’ll be free.

  I reach for one of the men’s guns, when a deadly voice stops me.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  My hand falls at his words. What the fuck?

  I don’t let men control me. I don’t let a voice like that penetrate my armor. But his does. His pushes through my outer shell and cracks through like lightning splitting a tree in half. He splits my soul.

  I swallow and then reach again, pushing his stupid voice down.

  “Stop, Siren.”

  My hand freezes midair.

  Stop listening to him. But there is something so commanding in his tone. Something that makes me want to listen to him. His voice convinces my heart he knows what’s better for me than I do. It’s a lie. My brain knows it, but my heart is easily tricked.

  I turn slowly and come face to face with the man who will haunt me the rest of my life, even though I already know from his voice who he is.

  “You can leave,” Zeke says to the two guards.

  “Yes, sir,” they both answer before leaving Zeke and me alone in the room.

  For a moment, I think Zeke might be my savior. He may have bought me to set me free. But no man spends thirty million on a woman just to set her free.

  Maybe he does?

  Maybe this man is good?

  Maybe he realized he owed me after I saved his life?

  A life for a life.

  “You owe me,” I say, raising my hope. I shouldn’t do it. I’ve been burned by too many men before. I’ve learned better than to trust a man. I’d be better off trusting a weasel.

  “I owe you nothing.”

  Damn, his voice vibrates through me. A wisp of his hair falls out of the man bun in front of his face. His eyes darken. His jaw tenses. And his lips hide whatever truth he dares to never speak.

  I burn down his walls with the glare in my eyes. But he doesn’t move. Or flinch or show any weakness.

  “I saved your life.”

  He shakes his head. “Julian Reed saved me. You merely transported me from the middle of the ocean to this island. I owe you a voyage to a destination not of your choosing.”

  I frown. “What? That makes no sense.”

  He steps forward. His presence fills the tiny closet of a room. I want to back away, but I don’t dare show weakness. His body towers over my much smaller frame. He’s a giant compared to most men. He has at least a good foot on me, even in the heels. And he fills out a suit like no man I’ve ever seen.

  But I know he’s not comfortable in it. He’s not a suit kind of man. I’ve seen the callouses on his hands. He prefers work to commanding, although he’s good at leadership. He’s probably good with his hands too.

  He cocks his strong head sitting on his thick, veiny neck. Jesus, this man is huge.

  “Doesn’t it, though? You are the reason I’m on this fucking island. You’re the reason I now owe a debt to Julian. You are the reason I was in the right place to buy you.”

  “You can’t just buy me! I’m not for sale!”

  He snaps his jaw shut. “I just did, sweetheart. I just fucking did.”

  I stand on my tiptoes, trying to look taller. “I will never obey you. I will never be yours. I never lie. I always tell the truth. I will destroy you before you ever lay a hand on me.”

  He studies me a moment. “I’m sure you believe every word you are saying, but only time will tell who will end up destroying who.”

  Zeke turns around and starts walking for the door. “Come,” he says, without looking back at me, barking orders like a dog.

  If he thinks he can just order me around, he’s wrong.

  He walks out the door.

  I stay.

  But then I hear the cries of the women in the building. Zeke may be a monster, but so far, he hasn’t touched me. He hasn’t beaten me. He hasn’t threatened me.

  I’ll follow him, but only because if I stay, the men who will claim me are worse.

  I exit and find Zeke holding the door open to the parking lot.

  “I’m not a patient man, Siren. I paid thirty million dollars for the pleasure of ordering you around. I suggest you follow my orders in a more timely fashion.”

  I grit my teeth together. “Or what? You’ll punish me?”

  “Yes, Siren. You may always tell the truth, but I always keep a promise. I owe you a debt. You took me hundreds of miles to t
he nearest island. Someday, I’ll repay the favor. Until then, you’re mine to do as I please.”

  “And what do you please?”

  “Right now, I want you to shut your smart mouth and get into the car.”

  He holds open the door of his beat-up truck.

  I frown. So much about this man I don’t understand. He has thirty million dollars to just blow. And yet he drives around a crappy truck. His suit is obviously a rental, he fills it out, but it’s not properly tailored. This man is hiding something, and I’m going to figure it out.

  I climb into the passenger side of the truck, choosing to pick my battles when it comes to Zeke. The man I saved. The man who will ruin my life. I should have known he was a jackass like every other man.

  8

  Zeke

  What am I doing? My mind races as I drive down the gravel road in the dark through the middle of the island. The truck jostles back and forth roughly with each spin of the wheel. I’ve cracked the windows to let in the cool, salty air. The air conditioning barely works on this truck, and I didn’t think I’d live here long enough to bother fixing it.

  I’m treating Siren like I own her. But do I really have a choice?

  If I started treating her like the princess she is, then Julian would start to get suspicious.

  But could I treat her like a human? Tell her I only bought her to save her?

  I chance a glance over at her. She sitting as far back as she can get in the seat, her legs are crossed, causing the robe to hike up dangerously high on her thigh until I can almost see the red, strappy number underneath. She’s still wearing the pointed heels, but I think it’s because she knows she can use them as a weapon, not because they’re comfortable.

  I was shocked when I entered the room and found her beating up on the two guards. She has skills—training someone taught her. She knows how to use her body as a weapon. She’s dangerous. I will have to be careful with her.

  But the most surprising thing is her fearlessness, even now that she’s sold. She’s mine, and yet she’s only sitting as far away from me as possible because she’s disgusted, not because she’s scared.

  I envy her. I want to live my life completely unafraid. Another quality that makes her dangerous.

  “Fasten your seatbelt,” I bark at her.

  She gives me a dirty look. “Why? We are going twenty miles an hour. There are no other cars on the road at this time of night. I think I’ll be fine. And don’t pretend to care about my safety.”

  “I want to protect my investment. Buckle. Your. Seatbelt,” I growl, hating how she defies me. Can’t she see I’m only trying to help her? Keep her safe?

  She flips me off. Apparently not.

  I consider my next move. I could force her. I could do it myself. Or I could convince her to see things my way.

  I choose option number three. I need her to obey me because she has no other choice. I need her to stop fighting every little order if I’m ever going to figure out how to save her.

  I can’t tell her the truth. At least, not yet.

  Julian could have this truck bugged. The home I rent from him is surely bugged. He’s a paranoid man who doesn’t trust anyone, and he thinks I’m hiding something. I am, just not what he thinks. And until I’m free of him, I can’t risk telling her the truth.

  I press on the gas, going faster than safe on the bumpy, unpaved road. Siren is thrown up from her seat, until she’s gripping the ceiling to keep her head from bumping into it.

  “What are you doing?” her voice breathy.

  Damn, I like the sound of her voice.

  “Driving.”

  “No, you’re trying to get us killed.”

  I shake my head as I put one hand out the window, feeling the wind as I pick up more speed. “I like to feel the wind.”

  “Slow down.”

  “I don’t follow your orders. I give the orders. And you will find I only give orders once.” I drive faster, watching Siren be thrown around in the truck. She’s barely hanging on now. Her hands are gripping the seat, the ceiling, the frame of the window—anything she can hold onto to keep her in the car instead of bouncing out of it.

  “You’ve made your point. Slow down,” she hollers, still not giving in to my orders.

  I drive faster, purposefully losing control more as I drive, running over several bushes and getting dangerously close to several trees as we bounce down the hill.

  “Fuck,” Siren curses when I turn head-on toward a large palm tree.

  She reaches for her seatbelt almost automatically. I don’t think she even realizes that she is giving into my command. As soon as she has the belt buckled, I swerve away.

  “Are we dead? Did you hit it?” She asks, her eyes closed tightly, and her red lips turned ghost white.

  I smile, liking her afraid, relying on me.

  “Nope, we are still very much alive.”

  “Dammit.”

  She slowly opens her eyes.

  “Are you going to slow down, now?”

  I step on the gas. She doesn’t get a reward for doing what I asked her to do five minutes after I asked it.

  She sighs and grips the seatbelt now firmly across her chest.

  Siren is feisty. She’s not like any other woman I’ve met. She was the only woman out of a dozen to completely own the stage, to not let us take control of her.

  She’s the only woman I’ve ever met who doesn’t want me for my money, protection, or access to my hotter, richer best friends.

  Because you bought her, you idiot. That’s the only reason she’s in this car. A woman like her wouldn’t look twice at a man like me. I have money sure, but not enough to please her. I don’t have any power. I work for a powerful man. I protect. I risk my life for others. I could never fully be hers.

  “What’s your last name, Siren?” I ask.

  She gives me the finger, her signature move.

  “Where are you from? Do you live on the island?”

  She raises her eyebrows at me. “You really think I’m going to answer your questions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you don’t, there will be consequences.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m not afraid of your consequences. We aren’t always going to be in a car where you can just pick up speed to get me to do what you want.”

  “No, but I can think of other ways to get you to do what I want.” My eyes threaten her with danger, but I would never physically hurt her. I’ve never hit a woman, and I don’t plan on doing it now. But Siren doesn’t know that. And right now, I need her terrified. I need her to stop resisting and let me save her.

  She goes quiet.

  Good, maybe my threat worked.

  “Are you married?” I ask, hoping to god she isn’t.

  Wait…what? Why do I care if she’s married? If she is, it would be easier for me, not harder. I could just drop her off with her husband. She would become his problem to take care of, no longer my concern.

  “You’ve never done this before, have you?” Her eyes focus on me.

  I swallow hard but don’t answer.

  She smiles. “What is your full name, Zeke?”

  I clench my jaw.

  “Where are you from?” she asks.

  “Are you married?” she asks.

  She leans back, smiling smugly, thinking she’s won.

  She has.

  But she won’t again.

  I turn the wheel hard, driving hard into a small ditch on the side of the road.

  She squeals crazily with the fear of death in her eyes.

  Then suddenly, we stop as I slam on the breaks.

  “You’re insane,” she pants, holding her hand over her heart as she tries to catch her breath.

  I grab her wrist, needing her to look at me, needing her to take me seriously.

  Of course, there’s a fucking spark at our touch.

  We both stare down at the surge going back and forth between our skin. How is i
t that the first woman I’ve felt butterflies for is also a woman I can’t have? I fucking bought her, even if I save her, even if I get her to freedom eventually, she won’t forgive me for this. She’ll always view me as an asshole.

  And I will have to treat her like one until I can find a way to set her free. I don’t have a choice. Julian will be watching my every move. And he’ll kill us both if he thinks we aren’t on his side.

  But it doesn’t stop my heart from doing fucking somersaults in my chest at her touch. Maybe when I set her free, I could seduce her? I could court her? Make her fall for me by bringing her flowers, chocolates, do all the romantic things I used to be good at? Maybe that would be enough for us to have a chance?

  I lean in close, until I’m all but kissing her. She licks her lips in anticipation of a kiss that will never come. I’m in control here, not her. She doesn’t get to decide my actions. I give a command; she follows it. Or there will be consequences.

  “What is your last name?” I ask, my voice booming so loudly it even scares even me.

  “Martinez.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Costa Rica.”

  “Are you married?”

  She holds up her left hand. There is no ring or tan line where one used to sit. She’s not married.

  I release my grip, and we both take a deep breath, like it’s a race to get all the oxygen we can before the other takes all of it.

  I stare at her. Consuming all of the information she gave me. Siren Martinez. From Costa Rica, not here. She’s not married.

  That last fact warms my cold heart more than it should. She’s not married, but that doesn’t really make her yours. I don’t have a real claim on her. What I have is temporary. All we have is chemistry. And fucked up debts to each other. And half-truths and lies.

  We could never have a real relationship even after all of this is over.

  Even though she isn’t married, I’m sure she has a life waiting for her in Costa Rica.

  And I have a life waiting for me in Miami.

  We would never work.

  I grip the steering wheel again; my point made—if she doesn’t follow my command, there will be consequences. This one was simple. I scared the shit out of her with just my voice. I may not hit her, but I can find other consequences for her not bending to my will.