by Azzi, Gina
Twisted Truths
The Regretful Lies Duet Book 2
Gina Azzi
Twisted Truths
Copyright © 2020 by Gina Azzi
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Contents
1. Zoe
2. Eli
3. Zoe
4. Eli
5. Zoe
6. Eli
7. Zoe
8. Eli
9. Zoe
10. Eli
11. Zoe
12. Eli
13. Zoe
14. Eli
15. Zoe
16. Eli
17. Zoe
18. Eli
19. Zoe
20. Eli
21. Zoe
22. Eli
23. Zoe
24. Eli
25. Zoe
26. Eli
Epilogue
Rescuing Broken
Also by Gina Azzi
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Zoe
“I’m pregnant.”
Natalie’s voice carries through Eli’s penthouse, echoing in the large space, echoing in my eardrums.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
Natalie Beck is pregnant?
My neck muscles crack, swiveling from Eli to Natalie and back again.
The oxygen in the room is heavy. Too heavy. Confusion swirls around me like a tornado, but all I feel is devastated. Betrayed. Hurt. I suck in an inhale as my mind spins, spots dancing in my peripheral vision.
Eli and Natalie stare at each other, their gazes locked and tortured.
Suddenly, standing in Eli’s penthouse, clutching his key card, dressed in a stolen robe and sopping wet, I feel like an intruder.
I shouldn’t be here.
The emotion in their faces, the depths of their gazes unsettles me. It pulls back the curtain on a past I know little about and reveals inklings of a future that punches me forcefully in the stomach.
Who’s the father?
Eli?
His name jumps into my mind unbidden and yet, witnessing the connection between them, a bystander in a relationship that makes mine with Eli seem childish, I can’t overlook what my mind, my body, my broken heart are telling me.
It’s Eli’s baby.
It has to be. Why else would she be here? Why else would Natalie fly halfway around the world to tell him she’s pregnant? What else could explain the desperation in her voice, the pleading note in her tone?
All my insecurities about their relationship rush to the forefront of my mind. Eli looked me in the eye and told me he wasn’t in love with her but what else could account for the magnetic pull between them? It’s more than just their past, their toxic and tumultuous once upon a time.
Eli and Natalie…
“No,” my voice cracks, a clap of thunder in a cloudy fog.
Eli turns to me, his expression bewildered. He grips the sides of his head, tugging his hair. “Violet.” He reaches for me but I shake my head, stepping backwards.
“No,” I repeat, my hand clenching the robe closed at my neck, my fingers trembling from the warring emotions exploding inside of me.
Pain. Anger. Confusion. Sadness.
Love.
I was going to tell Eli I loved him. Am in love with him.
And now…now it looks like Natalie’s going to say the words residing in my soul before I have a chance to. She’s always going to own a piece of Eli because she’s going to give him the baby I never will.
Slow down. Breathe. Think.
Maybe it’s not his baby?
Natalie steps in Eli’s direction, her hand outstretched, anguish rippling over her features.
“No,” I retreat to the elevator, jabbing repeatedly into the button.
A shriek builds in my throat, my body burning hot and cold, my skin itchy. I can’t breathe. I can’t…
I claw at the skin of my throat, my robe falling open. I want to crawl out of my own skin, shed this heaviness that’s suddenly suffocating me.
I can’t be here.
“Violet.” Eli’s at my back, his hand on my shoulder.
I flinch so violently, it knocks his hand away and he grips my upper arm, his fingertips digging into my flesh.
“Zoe, calm down.”
“No,” I breathe out the word, the one syllable on a loop in my mind.
No, this can’t be happening.
No, Eli can’t be the father.
No, I will never bear children.
No. No. No.
The elevator doors open and I throw myself inside, tearing out of Eli’s grip. He tries to step in after me but I shake my head, raising my palms to stop him. He smacks them away, reaching for me.
“Eli.” Natalie’s voice is questioning, uncertain.
He pauses to glance at her and in that moment, I push him backward just as the elevator doors close.
Collapsing against the far wall, my hands wringing the material of the robe, I suck in oxygen and try to hold it in my lungs, try to ease my racing heart.
This can’t be happening.
Eli and Natalie.
When? How?
Why?
I sag against the back railing, my thoughts ping-ponging too quickly for me to make sense of. The swell of hope I felt when I was in the ocean evaporates, leaving me hollow and raw. Tears sting my eyes, burning but not falling. I feel strangely numb, an emotional overload that absorbs me until my mind is forced to shut down.
Swallowing against the tightness clawing up my throat, I drop my head and charge toward my room, careful not to make eye contact with anyone I pass. Shuffling inside, I flip the lock, rip off the stupid robe, and tug on a T-shirt and panties.
I pace back and forth in front of the door, my hands trembling at my sides as I try to formulate a plan.
Do I talk to Eli? Call Charlie? Find out the truth?
The first sob rips from my throat, forcing me to my knees. Drunk with heartache, seething with anger, I hang my head and let my tears consume me.
I love him. I love him and I can’t keep him.
He’s having a baby.
Pure agony shudders through me as I hunch forward, grasping my abdomen.
I will never know that joy. I will never know that completeness. I will never be able to give him what he wants most in the world.
It’s that inadequacy, that inability to do the one thing I’m supposed to be able to do that cuts the deepest, that rips me wide open and exposes all my secrets until they pour out of me in heart-wrenching sobs and salty tears.
A bang sounds on my door, a palm slapping against the doorframe. “Zoe. Open up.”
I hiccup, pressing my hand over my mouth.
“Zoe, goddamn it, please! We need to talk.”
My eyes bleed tears as I squeeze them closed.
“Baby, please. Please just let me see you.” His voice is broken, dejected.
It scrapes at my heart. Before I can process what I’m doing, I pull the door open and he stumb
les inside, clearly surprised.
He takes one look at my face and pulls me into his arms, wrapping me tightly against his chest, breathing into my hair, kissing the top of my head. “Violet, I owe you so many explanations. Please baby, please don’t shut me out,” he pleads, as if he too knows our end is near.
It’s upon us. And there is nothing we can do to stop it. Even if he feels for me a fraction of how much I love him, I will never give him his heart’s greatest desire. I will never have children.
Long seconds pass. A part of me wants to push him away and demand answers, about us, about his relationship with Natalie, about the baby, but a larger part wants nothing more than to stay in his arms, blissfully ignorant.
“Zoe.” He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping my cheeks. He bends until he can gaze into my eyes and I see the apology in his. “I’m so sorry.”
My heart twists at the words, my mind playing catch-up to realize that he is the baby’s father. What else would he apologize for?
I nod, bowing my head as I try to control the emotions literally pouring out of me. “You’re going to be a great dad.” I force myself to say the words, even though my voice catches and breaks.
“What?” Eli’s hands twitch against my cheeks. “Zoe. Look at me.” He runs his palm across my jawline, lifting my head. “Natalie’s baby isn’t mine. I’m not the father.”
I blanch, shock exploding behind my eyelids like fireworks. Relief like a tsunami swirls through me, easing some of the pain in my chest and replacing it with the resolve to hear him out.
“Are you sure?”
He nods, his head tilting to the left as his eyes continue to bore into mine. His hands drop to my shoulders, sliding over the cotton of my T-shirt, one finger twirling a damp strand of hair. “Why were you soaking wet in a robe from the pool?”
“I went for a swim.”
An eyebrow raises. “At midnight?”
I shrug.
“You came up to my place.” His tone is gentle, a quiet encouragement for me to share my reasoning, my why.
But it doesn’t matter now, does it? I love him and he’s got his pregnant ex-girlfriend hanging around his penthouse while I await a diagnosis that is going to change my life.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I swallow. “Tell me about Natalie.”
Eli swears, pinching the bridge of his nose and tipping his head toward my bed.
“Come here.” He slides onto my bed, pulls me against his chest, and holds me.
Pressing my ear against his heart, I let the steady beat center me as Eli speaks, the rumble of his chest comforting.
“All I know is what you know. That Natalie is pregnant.”
“Are you sure you’re not the father?” I look up, needing to witness his truth.
“I’m positive.”
“Then, who is it?”
He shrugs, his stubble catching on my hair as he gently brushes it back from my face. “I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask her?”
“I ran after you.”
“Why was she in your room?” I hate that I know he’s telling the truth but feel a flicker of unease with the story. Something doesn’t add up.
He shifts, peering down at me. “She sent me a message when she landed. It was only a few hours ago. I told her we’d talk tomorrow but then she called when she got here.” He scrubs a hand over his face.
“And you jumped to her rescue.” I can’t keep the derision from my tone.
“Things with Natalie…they’ve always been complicated.”
I nod, though I don’t know what I’m agreeing with. In fact, I don’t know how to feel about this situation at all.
I love you! A part of me wants to shout.
The larger part is relieved that now, I don’t have to. Because now, with all the drama and uncertainty, it somehow seems too late.
Eli nudges me and I drop my head back to his shoulder. “What are you thinking, Zoe?”
Hiding. Feeling. Being.
“I don’t think I can do this with you.” I force myself to say the words. How could I possibly be with him when it’s crystal clear that he wants a family, a future, a life? Those are things I can’t offer right now. Maybe never.
“Do what?” He slips out from behind me so my back crashes into the pillows. He peers down at me. Blocking out the light, he looks more like a broken warrior than a savior. I gulp.
“This. Us.”
Eli’s eyes fall closed as he swears. “Zoe, I don’t understand what happened. Last week, we were great. Now,” he shakes his head, “I don’t know what you’re thinking. Let me in, baby.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“I don’t believe you, Violet. I know you want me. This.” He brushes his lips across mine and my eyes flutter closed. My fingers reach for him of their own volition as a sigh falls from my lips. I curse my traitorous body for giving him the proof my words won’t.
He pulls away, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Give me the goddamn truth,” he demands, his concern morphing into hurt.
I falter, my heart racing in my chest. Then I remember my test results, the lump, the searing intensity between Eli and Natalie. Steeling my resolve, I bark out, “The truth, Eli? The truth is you and me, we’re fire together. Everything is intense and passionate, overwhelming. The highs are so damn high but the lows, the lows are brutal. We’re going to scorch each other until we disintegrate. I don’t want to burn out. I can’t.” My hands tremble, my voice catching. “Two truths and a lie, Eli. I’m doing this for you. I’ll never give you the future you deserve. We don’t want the same things.”
“Stop lying,” he growls, his eyes darkening, his hand fisting the material of my shirt. “I know you, Zoe. I know you would give me the best future of all, because you’re supposed to be in it.”
I wince, his words soothing my soul since they’re what I want to hear. They’re the closest he’s ever come to admitting he loves me. And yet they hurt, agonizingly so, because I can’t react to them.
“We burn brighter together, Zoe. And that’s not a bad thing, baby. It’s fucking beautiful.” His eyes beseech mine to understand.
My heart twists in my chest as I force my body to lock down, to grow numb. I feel off-balance, a sail waving wildly in unforgiving winds. One moment, I want Eli to know how I feel about him. The next, I want to protect him from my feelings. And still, I want him to desire me with the same intensity that I feel for him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Let the man go. He’s in the prime of his career, he’s dealing with enough drama to last a lifetime. All I’m doing is adding more stress to his life.
“I can’t do this, Eli. I don’t want to be your island fling. I don’t want to hear you whisper sweet lies about making things work when we go home. We both know that’s not true. You’re going to go back to L.A., to palm trees and parties, and I’m going to go back to Chicago. And Shooters. There is no ‘us’ beyond the Seychelles. All the drama, the paparazzi, the shit Gossip prints, that’s hard enough to handle. But on top of that, everything with Natalie, the ex-girlfriend you always rush to save? I don’t want this life.”
“Violet —” Eli starts, two pools of green boring into me, searching for the secrets I keep locked up so tight that sometimes I can’t even find the key.
Shaking my head, I armor my heart and my words in steel. “Two truths and a lie. Being with you, it’s hurting me. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t want you.”
“No.” He pushes off the bed, his hands going to the back of his head as he glares down at me. Anger ripples off of him in waves, rolling down his shoulders and crashing out from his hips. His expression is barely controlled fury, silent and seething. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care.” I slip off the bed, pulling open the door to my room.
He chuckles humorlessly. “This is how you’re gonna play it?”
> I quirk an eyebrow.
“Fine. You want to play games, baby? Here’s three truths for you to think about. I don’t believe a goddamn word you just said. You’re hurting me too. I’ll never stop wanting you.”
He pushes past me, his arm brushing across my chest, his eyes bewildered and bleeding. I close the door after him, staring at the handle for several long seconds, my fingers itchy with indecision.
My chest aches so deeply, it hurts to inhale. And exhale.
Everything hurts.
I’ll never stop wanting you.
I climb back into bed, throw my head against the pillow, and let the tears fall. They collect in my hair like broken promises. My pillow dampens, my breathing slows, and my anger over seeing Natalie and Eli together subsides.
Isn’t it better this way? Her presence in his life makes what I have to do easier. It provides me with a legitimate out without having to explain my BRCA results or the test results I’m still waiting on. In fact, I don’t need to let Eli in on any of my truths in the light of his ex-girlfriend coming all the way to the Seychelles, begging for his help because she’s pregnant.
God. But then why does it hurt so badly? Why is the pain slicing through my ribs so sharp?
And why do I feel lonelier than ever before?
I’ll never stop wanting you.
I grab my phone and tap out a message to Harlow.
Me: Hey. Sorry I’ve been MIA. I could really use a friend. Can we talk?
Harlow: I’ll bring smoothies in the morning. The green ones.
Turning on my side, I close my eyes and pray for sleep, relief crawling through my mind like a dream when it finally claims me.
2