The Secrets We Keep: Secrets and Revelations Book One

by Selina Marie

  I will find Alexis. If I don’t, I may just suffocate and be crushed under not only my own discretions, but her secrets she keeps hidden away beneath the dirt.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Emilia

  I hear the plaster crack under the force of his anger as I stand in Lukas’s office after he stormed out.

  His mood swings give me whiplash if I am honest. One second he ignores my presence, the next he is worshipping my body in ways no one has ever done before. He taunts and teases, but then he seems to despise sharing the same air as me. I can’t work him out and it’s starting to affect me in ways it shouldn’t. Nothing about us is normal. It’s fire, passion and lust infused with danger, resistance and cruelty. It’s exhausting, but I can’t seem to fight against my better judgment to resist him.

  Lukas didn’t want me to see his aggression. Maybe he thinks I can’t handle it—that it will trigger my very recent past. I come from a home where violence is as inevitable as the sun rising each morning and the moon glowing each night. I’m numb to it.

  In his own way I know he’s trying to protect me, and the thought makes my chest tight. But he’s wrong though, I can handle it. Lukas has no idea what I can handle—nobody does. I’m strong and it’s a quality I love about myself, probably more than anything. After all the shit I’ve been served, my strength is the one thing that continues to blossom and never wavers. I’ve had to be strong my whole life, at times more than others so I would always have my shield drawn close to my chest ready for impact; and maybe that makes it hard for me to let anyone in, but that’s just the way I’m programmed. At this point it will take a freaking genius to even attempt rewiring me.

  I’m upstairs, following the sounds of heavy metal until I’m outside of what I presume is his bedroom door. "Torn in Two" by Breaking Benjamin blasts through the dark wood as I press my fingers into the intricately curved markings on the door, unsure of what I’m doing here. I hear the song coming to an end and turn around, treading lightly on the marble so my boots don’t make too much noise—consciously chickening out on whatever brought me to him in the first place, because maturity is overrated.

  I see a little white sheet of paper on my bed. It’s thick and made of card stock with an elegant inscription of my name on the front. Flipping it over there’s a message:

  Dinner tonight in the dining room. 7pm

  Lukas.

  That should be interesting. I could bet that our dinner would be filled with harsh words and teasing, or absolutely nada. He probably dropped this off earlier when I was at college. No doubt he’s either hoping I don’t show or hopes I forget about it.

  ◆◆◆

  Earlier today, I met up with Melody at the front gates of campus like we always do. She meets me there when she can—Mel attends the college in the city. She wore a fitted emerald green, long sleeved top that made her strawberry blonde hair stand out—I swear that color was made for red heads. I’d snorted when she argued her black ripped jeans which were slashed at the knees and all up her thighs were destined to find her ass because they hug and squeeze it like no man ever has. Yep, that’s my best friend, and she is literally the best person I know. I would die for that girl and I really do mean that.

  People say it half-heartedly all of the time but if it came down to it and your friend had a gun held to her head most people wouldn’t jump in front of them. But I would. Pain and I are sort of on okay terms due to the amount of time we spend together. As a result of that, I don’t run from it. I take it, rolling with the punches.

  We made our way into the building—it’s one of those buildings that’s old but is trying to be modern which isn’t working for it, I mean just pick an era. I study criminal law and Mel does dance—two opposite ends of the spectrum. But the one thing we both love is dancing. There is nothing more freeing than getting so lost in the music, the rhythm and beat that’s playing into your body and soul.

  We used to make up our own dance routines when we were kids. I always went to her house for that, never mine. These days the clubs and bars are our playground.

  I wanted to tell her about everything that’s happened over the last few days—that Robert attacked me, that I’m essentially homeless after the fire (which she already knew and freaked out about, but I told her I was fine and staying with a friend). I wanted to tell her about Lukas, but I didn’t, I didn’t say anything and I’m not sure why but something held me back. In a sick and twisted way, I feel like him and I are our own little secret, and for now that’s how I want it to stay.

  I sink back onto my bed falling into the mattress that softly hugs my body. I think about dinner tonight. Every other meal I’ve just been left with a tray waiting for me either inside of the room or outside of the door. There’s always a knock when I am inside but nobody waiting on the other side. So, my theory of a phantom maid plays on my mind again. I mean no one can move that quickly, surely.

  Maybe he wants to talk to me about Lexi and what our next steps will be. It still doesn’t make much sense to me why he would want to help, but I’ll take any help I can get; I need to find her. Even though Lexi and I weren’t all that close—much at all really—she is still my only family, blood family who I have left… who I hope I still have left.

  Melody is my chosen family and sometimes they end up being just as important to you as blood, and in my case, she is more important. My soul sister. The only true constant who’s been there with me through it all, by my side holding me up when I felt like falling down so far that the demons beneath the earth were clutching on to my ankles willing me to fall into the depths of hell.

  I pull out my phone from my back pocket so I can send a text to Mel to check in and see how her class went because Jensen—my babysitter/driver—said it was ‘imperative that I return as soon as my class is over’ which of course I didn’t listen to because fuck that. I don’t need to follow orders of a scarier version of ‘Joe’ from The Princess Diaries. He sounded Russian too, which made him seem even more scary for some reason. Maybe he’s related to Lukas or something; he did say his father was Russian. I also noted that he said ‘was’ but I didn’t want to push him because it really isn’t any of my business. But I am curious about Lukas and his family.

  I ended up walking around campus for an hour to kill time and make Jensen wait. The weather was still a little chilly, the wind biting at my skin a little as I dragged out my tiny little rebellion of the day, not rebellious at all I know, but it’s all I could do. And if I am honest it gave me some smug satisfaction. Not that it was ‘Joe’s’ fault -- that’s what I’m calling him now.

  My fingers skim the touchscreen of my phone and I send a quick message to Mel, deciding I should probably come out with the truth.

  Me: Hey, I need to talk to you about something, can we meet soon?

  I get a reply within two minutes.

  Mel: Hey babe, yeah sure! How about a few drinks while we catch up?... I NEED them!

  Me: Ha! You and me both, where and when?

  Mel: La Rouge and I can pick you up? Tomorrow night?

  Shit. I don’t want her to pick me up from here, it’ll only end up with her asking questions that I will need a few dozen shots before answering. I also don’t want Lukas to know. I feel like he has too much control over me and there’s a big part of me that hates it. I desperately need something to rebel against, and I guess this is it. Some freedom, fun and dancing with my best friend and maybe (definitely) a few tequila shots. Harmless.

  ‘La Rouge’ is a club about a twenty-minute drive into the city from here, so I assume Mel isn’t going to have more than a couple drinks. It’s our favorite place to go to let loose and lose ourselves in the heat and sweaty bodies who pack the space. It’s grungy but we love that, because it means no snooty, preppy assholes come because it isn’t their ‘scene’.

  Me: Can you pick me up at the beach, I’ll wait in the parking lot for you? 11pm?

  Mel: You and that beach. *heart and kissy face emoji* Sounds good
my little weirdo, can’t wait! X

  I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Rolling over on to my stomach I open the drawer to find my headphones that I stashed in the bedside table, connect them to my phone and crash back into the pillow. I hit play on Spotify settling on Taylor Swift’s album "Folklore" needing the calming and mesmerizing melodies to soothe me.

  Moments with Lukas dance around in my head as I relive his hands on me earlier; his hands inside of my body playing me like an instrument until he stopped. His face plays in my memory like a montage of blue eyes, sharp jawlines, soft and powerful lips that seem to read exactly what I want from them. The perfect pressure and speed when he kissed me was like he was inside of my mind responding to my inner desires. The music and his eyes lure me deeper into a peaceful sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Emilia

  Bang! Bang! Bang! I dart upright in my bed, sweat dripping from my body. I can feel my t-shirt stuck to my back. Is Robert here? My heart is beating out of my chest as my eyes adjust. No dingy, dark box room, no single bed with my dresser pushed up close to it. Lots of space and room to breathe. I inhale as much air as I can, filling my lungs to capacity, realizing Robert is not here. I’m safe. Then I remember Lukas is here, so am I really safe? I believe my life is, but my heart definitely isn’t.

  My head snaps toward the door where the sound came from, blinking my eyes open a few more times as they take in the darkness of the room, I check my phone. 7.45pm. Shit! I take it I’m a little late for dinner with Lukas.

  Quickly changing my shirt that still clings to the dampness of my back, I grab a clean shirt throwing it on, run my fingers through my hair and check that my mascara hasn’t given me panda eyes after my four-hour nap. Licking my fingers and wiping gently under my eyes I wipe away two small smudges of black then I’m good to go.

  Swinging the door open ready to be graced with a pissed off Lukas, I’m surprised when a woman stands on the other side. She is just a little taller than me which isn’t very difficult, quite petite and her deep turquoise eyes are kind looking, although her resting bitch face is the real deal. She has dark hair tied back in a neat low bun, her cheeks are full and her lips a little thin, but that may be because she’s pursing them as we take each other in. I should probably say something, but she beats me to it.

  “Miss Blake, I presume? You’re late for your dinner with Mr. El-Evans.” She clears her throat and continues before I have a chance to open my mouth. “Mr. Evans does not like to be kept waiting. I do hope that you have an acceptable explanation for your tardiness?” She tilts her head to the side clasping her left hand in her right one in front of her body, waiting for my excuse, telling by her expression one was not amused. And damn straight I turned up my impression of a British accent all the way to eleven.

  “Uh sorry, I fell asleep.” I don’t offer any more information because I don’t have any more to give, and she’s a little abrupt and snappy from my first impression of her, so I am not about to make small talk.

  “Hmm. Well, we had better hurry. Your impromptu ‘nap’ has already caused Mr. Evans to have to delay a social appointment.”

  I don’t like her already.

  I reluctantly follow her as she hurries down the staircase around to the left, leading me to a room toward the back of the house. We fly past several doors on the way, and I am still left wondering why one person needs so much space. The nameless woman, who I am assuming is the phantom maid minus the phantom part, stops in the doorway nearly causing me to crash into her back that’s wound so tight and rigid I fight the urge to tell her she might want to loosen the stick that’s wedged up her ass before she causes herself a serious injury. Clearing her throat, she announces us like we just jumped into an episode of Bridgerton. “Apologies, sir, Miss Blake had fallen asleep.” She emphasized the words ‘fallen asleep’ as if I had come up with a grand scheme of pretending to sleep. How outrageous of me.

  I swear if looks could kill she would be a pile of ash on the oh-so-perfectly polished marble floor. The daggers I’m shooting her way aren’t missed though. Lukas coughs roughly, causing my attention to snap from the back of phantom maid’s head to his piercing glare. I hold his eye contact for an intense moment before a glimmer of amusement flashes in his own, and I see the start of a small smirk growing at the side of his pretty mouth. Is my expression that obvious?

  Phantom maid walks to the chair across the table, opposite of Lukas, pulling it out and gesturing with a sharp nod of her head, for me to sit. I do. She scurries off out of the dining room mumbling incoherent things on her way out. No doubt whining about me.

  Silence fills the room except for the persistent ticking of the grandfather clock on the far end of the room. Twiddling my fingers and playing with the hem of my t-shirt, I look down noticing my deep blue lace bra is obscenely visible through the thin white cotton shirt I threw on. Great.

  It really was unintentional. I had just woken up, still slightly comatose with a foggy brain and rushing around because I didn’t want Lukas pissed at me, and here we are. Sitting across from one another, with my less than discreet show of my bra. It is part of a matching pair with the thong I had on, which also reminds me that I’m naked underneath my jeans. That, and the rough seam that keeps rubbing up against my crotch, igniting a small flicker of heat between my legs every time I move. I cross them under the table. The energy between us crackles with chemistry and tension and I slowly lift my head. Lukas already has his eyes on me, his gaze so intense he looks right through me and into my soul, which I know it sound cheesy but there is no other way to describe it. I feel like he sees me, really sees me.

  I squirm a little in my seat as his gaze pins me to the chair. I decide to break the ice first.

  “Sorry… I fell asleep, you can blame your bed for that. It’s literally the best I have ever slept.” I laugh and give him a small smile then return my focus to the place mat in front of me when he grabs my attention and says, “Your bed.” He corrects me. “You haven’t slept in my bed.”

  Something passes between us but this time it’s different, it’s gentle and soft. I swallow and his eyes follow the movement, pausing on my lips on the way down. The air is thick with so many unsaid truths and confessions.

  “You don’t have to feel guilty… about before, in your office.” I speak softly. “And before you say you don’t possess those feelings or care, it’s okay, really. I can take it. I can take a lot.” I smirk and he lets out a husky laugh which makes my stomach warm in delicious ways.

  Lukas nods discreetly, lifting his hands onto the dining table, his fingers on his Rolex twisting it around slightly. I notice he’s not wearing his shirt from before; he was in a charcoal grey fitted t-shirt. The color complimented his eyes beautifully, and the way his biceps and the ropes in his forearms stood out, made my mouth water. There’s something about a man’s arms, this man’s arms.

  Lukas still wears a small grin on his face, and I store it away in my memory for later, when he’ll inevitably say or do something mean. It’s not a grimace or a smug smirk, a genuine smile, small but it is there. I see it and I want more of those smiles.

  When he brings his eyes to mine, there’s a small frown making three little creases appear between his brows, like he’s thinking about what to say next. After a long minute he replies, “I don’t feel guilty. And you’re wrong... I do care.” He lifts his hand, tracing the outline of his lips with his index finger. “I care about a lot of things. But there’s a problem with caring about things—mainly people.”

  I watch him intently as I wait for him to give me a glimpse into his soul. One I don’t realize how badly I want.

  “When you care about others, you’ll start to care about their opinions, their views and judgements. And where does that leave your own opinions and views? Clouded by the need to please those around you, who you care about so much, that in the end you can never truly be you.” There it is… my glimpse into Lukas Evans’ mind.

 
His honesty and the truth behind his words strikes me because I agree with every word he says. I understand this more than most, which is why I shut myself off from the world. I’ve already lost so much of myself—caring about others and putting them before me, and in the end, I feel irrelevant and forgotten.

  “And those people who you take the time to care for usually end up leaving anyway.”

  Our moment is interrupted by phantom maid, who I now know is Anita after Lukas thanks her for the food she lays out in front of us. I still prefer my name for her.

  My stomach growls loudly, and I remember I had slept through lunch, so I haven’t eaten since earlier this morning.

  “Hungry?” Lukas asks with a playful look in his eyes.

  “I slept through lunch, so yeah, just a little.” I look up at him through my lashes, a little flushed after my stomach performed a Broadway musical worthy growl.

  Anita gestures to the various dishes set out on the table, the aroma already making my mouth water.

  “Help yourself to anything… can I get you anything to drink?” she pointedly looks at me. “Water perhaps?”

  There’s an awkward silence that follows until Lukas speaks up. “No, thank you, Anita, that will be all. You can take the rest of the night off. I’ll clean up.” He gives her a small smile and even though she seems like a grade-a bitch it is good to know that Lukas treats his staff well. Just because he’s wealthy doesn’t mean that he treats everyone around him like shit, like they are less than him. I can’t stand that about people in powerful positions. The way I see it is that we come in the same way, and go out the same way—in a box.

  Lukas doesn’t speak until after he finishes his meal, which leaves me overthinking how loud I’m chewing, the sounds of forks and knives scraping together. I hate eating in front of people. Like how do people walk around in the street eating food? I can’t understand it.