The Secrets We Keep: Secrets and Revelations Book One

by Selina Marie

  Once we both finish Lukas stands up pushing his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor. I thought he was about to leave but instead of walking through the door, he stops to the right of it, in front of a cabinet. He pulls out two glasses and a glass decanter of some amber liquid, whiskey I assume. He turns his head over his shoulder looking at me.

  “Are you a whiskey or a wine kind of girl?” He quirks up an eyebrow when I reply.

  “Definitely whiskey, on the rocks. Thanks.” I hear the clink of ice being dropped into the glass just before he makes his way back to the table. Instead of going to his seat he drops into the one beside mine, pouring a generous amount into my glass, doing the same for him.

  He knocks back the contents of his glass in three seconds flat without a single wince at the alcohol that burns down his throat. Pouring another he does the same again. Did I miss the part where we decided we were playing a drinking game?

  Lukas doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to need liquid courage. No, this man does what he likes, when he likes, so I don’t know why this puts me on edge. I toss back my glass pouring the liquid down the back of my throat. I welcome the burn that I feel immediately in my stomach.

  After he downs his third shot of whiskey, he slams his glass onto the table and focuses on me. Grabbing the arm of the chair, he swings it around with ease until we are facing each other, my knees knocking the fronts of his. Looking up at his face, amused by his actions, a smile plays on his lips.

  “We’re going to play a game.” His tongue darts out to lick across his bottom lip drawing my gaze to the movement as he waits for me to argue, I imagine. He’s wrong though, because the alcohol that burns in my belly has given me a little liquid courage of my own and I’m feeling brave. I lean forward resting my forearms on my thighs, looking up at this beautiful deadly creature.

  “What game are we playing?”

  Lukas ponders, screwing up his face pretending to think. The fucker already knew what he was doing when he suggested it, but it’s cute.

  This whiskey is strong. There’s nothing ‘cute’ about this man.

  “Hmmm. How about truth or dare?” His voice is full of teasing and something deeper. Yeah, he knows exactly what he’s doing. I’m starting to feel a little fuzzy after our fifth shot of whiskey.

  “Okay, you’re on.” I smile, the whiskey is making me bold.

  Lukas leans down, mimicking my pose, his elbows resting on his strong thighs. He sucks his lip between his teeth, and something stirs in my belly that isn’t the drink.

  “You ready to tell me all your secrets, Kiska?” he asks.

  “Are you?” I challenge him and something flashes in his eyes but is gone in a second, too fast for me to see what it was.

  He fills up our glasses halfway and sits back, his head tilted causing his gaze to look down at me, his legs spread wide.

  “Truth or dare, Emilia?”

  Weighing my options I choose truth because in my current state of tipsiness I worry I would do whatever he dared me to do, which would not be good for me in the morning when the alcohol fog clears. I’m settled on my answer. “Truth, my dear hero.” Dear God, what am I saying? I shouldn’t drink—especially around him.

  The way he’s looking at me makes my skin prickle with anticipation. Anxiety spreads through me while I wait for what he’s going to ask. What I might have to confess to him.

  Lukas taps his chin dragging out the torture, thinking of what truth he can extract from me. My pulse spikes a little when it dawns on me that he can ask me anything. There’s so much I don’t want to reveal. I like my Pandora’s box sealed up tight. Why do I feel like he’s about to unravel it—unravel me? The problem is, not only does the alcohol loosen my lips—not those lips—but it’s like a truth serum, and I hope it doesn’t take effect anytime soon. On the contrary, Lukas is hoping for the opposite.

  I’m nervously awaiting his question when he clears his throat dramatically. Maybe there’s a sense of humor he hides in there somewhere. Anxiety builds in my body, then he asks, “What’s your favorite color?”

  I laugh with relief. I can feel the grin stretch across my face when I answer, “Blue is my favourite colour. Now it’s my turn.” I squint my eyes and ask, “Truth or dare?”

  Lukas licks his lips staring down at me with his usual smirk in place, and I can tell by the fire and direction of his eyes, that he’s thinking of my bra—which he can absolutely see right now—and my matching blue thong that he tore off. I still haven’t seen it since. His eyes are sparkling with lust and I want to swim in those deep blue depths, like the amber whiskey is swimming through my bloodstream right now.

  “Dare.” His gaze is dark as he picks up his drink and knocks it back, licking his lips slowly. I know what to dare him as soon as the words leave his lips.

  “I dare you to tell me all of your secrets.” My grin leaves my face as I watch his eyes, his pupils blown and black like the night sky.

  “You want my secrets?” His frown darkens his features. “You couldn’t handle all of my secrets, sweetheart. But there is one I can let you in on.” He pauses and his eyes sweep over my body, moving up from my legs stopping at every destination on the way up until his eyes meet mine.

  “Really, and what’s that?” I wait a long minute until he speaks.

  “I’m not who you think I am.” His face is hard as stone as he delivers his words, his tone full of warning and truth. “My turn. Truth or dare, Emilia?” I don’t know what to say to him, so I bite the bullet.

  “Truth.”

  Lukas’s knee bounces up and down ferociously, he pours and shoots another shot of whiskey.

  “How close were you and Alexis? Did you tell each other all your secrets?”

  That alone shakes me out of my flirtatious mood, and it’s too heavy. The atmosphere in the room has changed and I want it to go back to the light and fun energy it was before. But I owe him a truth.

  “Honestly, no. We weren’t close. It was better when we were kids but as we got older it’s like she couldn’t stand to be around me, and I never knew why. Alexis had her own world, but I wasn’t a part of it,” I confess, feeling too vulnerable and I blame the booze.

  “Why not?” Lukas frowns, his eyes fixated on me.

  “You already got your truth,” I say.

  “I want another one. You owe me for being late for dinner.”

  I huff out a heavy breath, emotion making my nose tingle.

  “Why weren’t you a part of her world?”

  “I don’t know. Different lives, I guess. She was popular, always busy with friends and guys.” Lukas’s jaw pops under his skin.

  “And you weren’t?” he asks. I laugh nervously. If only he knew.

  “No. I don’t really like… people.” Lukas sneers at that like he can relate, his eyes still hard. “She barely looked at me for months before she went missing, but I still liked having her home. Robert wasn’t as bad when her and my mom were there. Uh, I’m sorry. I’m drunk.” I stop, meeting his eyes.

  They are slightly squinted like he’s trying to solve an equation, deep lines etch into his forehead, his lips are pursed. He shakes his head subtly, but I catch it.

  “Do you remember what happened the night she went missing?” he asks, his voice raspy.

  “Not really. Just that she went out all night, which wasn’t unusual for her… and she didn’t come back. Something was off before that though. I remember a couple nights before she disappeared, she came home looking like a mess. Her hair wild and her body all cut up and bruised. There was blood on her hands and clothes… everywhere. I tried to ask her what happened and if she was okay, but she just slammed her door in my face. And that was it” I reach for the bottle and pour myself a shot. Lukas just stares, as if he’s seen a ghost.

  I feel bare, naked. I can’t believe I just said all those things to him. Now he’s just looking straight through me, his expression dark, confused and anguished. The glaze over his eyes tells me he isn’t her
e, he’s somewhere else right now. I stay quiet waiting for him to come back.

  I know Lukas carries the weight of the world like I do, I can see it in his eyes. The weight on his shoulders is different than mine though, more sinister, and darker.

  I can’t pinpoint why, but there’s a light about him that calls to me. It’s dim though, as if life licked its fingers and burned out the match. His darkness calls to me just the same. Nobody can resist the allure of darkness, no matter how much they deny it or lie to themselves. Light and dark are a package deal, and you can’t have one without the other. Like yin and yang, good and bad. Newton’s law of gravity even states that ‘for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction’.

  That’s why I choose to embrace both the light and the dark because that alone helps me sleep at night. I don’t sit here pretending to be some perfect saint, preaching to the world that the sun shines out of my ass, I know I’m fucked up… and that’s ok.

  I’m lucky enough to have my strength rooting me to the earth, and a friend like Melody anchoring me to the ground, so I can bask in the delight of both.

  Seven minutes of silence later (minus the ticking of the clock) I start to pile up the dishes and the clinking of the china snaps his attention back to me.

  “What are you doing?” Lukas asks as if it isn’t obvious.

  “Well since your help has gone, you might as well make use of the charity case in the room.” I laugh half-heartedly, attempting to lighten the mood from the intensity clouding over us. Lukas narrows his eyes at me.

  “Look, I don’t want to relive my shitty past, okay? I just want to keep it light.” I look down, not because I’m embarrassed or anything, but because his gaze is so intense once again, and I don’t want it to invade my already foggy, drunk brain.

  There’s a moment of silence as he considers what I said, but when he replies it feels loaded with unanswered answers. “I don’t think it will ever be ‘light’ between us Emilia.” Lukas stands and walks out of the room.

  A minute later I hear the front door close and a low rumble of an engine, the sound of the tires crunching on the gravel, then he’s gone.

  I clear up what’s left after our dinner, stacking the plates and glasses on top of one another and into the dishwasher, before I chug a pint of water to ease my impending hangover. I’m getting a little more familiar with the place.

  Don’t get too comfortable. An insecure little voice warns from inside, but I ignore it.

  Once I’m in my room I jump in the shower and crash into bed. I’ve given my bed the name ‘Aphrodite,’ because the goddess of love seriously delivered when she gave me this divinity. Sleep comes quick and easily.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Emilia

  The next day goes by in a blur and I barely see anyone. I spend most of my time familiarizing myself with the push and pull of the tide as I sit on the balcony waiting for dinner and wondering if there’s going to be a repeat of last night—just the eating part.

  I’m waiting till the time comes when I can sneak out to meet Mel more than anything. I need time with my girl. Not gonna lie, I’m also in shock that I was not cursed with a hangover today at all, not that I didn’t deserve it.

  Thank fuck for water.

  By the time seven-thirty rolls around I get a knock on my door. A tray is outside the door waiting for me and I guess that answers my question—we’re back to eating separately. I wolf it down because my appetite seems to have tripled today, which I am totally blaming on the alcohol. Every time I have a drink or ten, the next day I can eat for England.

  It’s nine-forty-five when I’m slipping into the closet, deciding on which of the dresses I want to rock tonight. I settle for a little black dress. It’s a fitted halter style with the entire back open, the material barely covering the top of my ass. I want to have fun tonight and look good doing it. I always feel more confident when I’m looking my best, and I desperately need that right now.

  Grabbing the makeup bag I found in the bathroom cabinet—which is literally filled with the fanciest brands of makeup and skincare products any girl like me could only dream of—I line my eyes in thick black liner, making the blue of my irises even more striking than usual. Mascara comes next but I only do one layer because my long, curled and dark lashes are apparently the one good thing that came from my father, according to my mom. I wear a little blush with a small amount of shimmer to add to the highlight of my cheekbones, and a deep red lip. I leave my hair in the natural waves it dried in after my shower this morning, brushing it out a little. I don’t like my hair to look prim and proper, I like it a little messy and wild. I throw on a leather jacket from the closet and some military boots because ‘La Rouge’ is not a heels kind of place. Nor am I a heels kind of girl.

  I check myself out in the mirror before I attempt my break-out and am pleased with the outcome: my makeup is really good, not too subtle but not over the top, and my hair looks intentionally messy, a little sexy, and it flows down my back covering the bare skin. I actually look pretty hot, and it feels so good knowing in less than an hour I’m going to be with my best friend, letting loose and letting go of all of my burdens, even if it is just for tonight.

  I grab my purse and phone, opening the door slowly, not hearing any sound at all. I quietly close my bedroom door and tiptoe down the stairs. I’m praying he doesn’t have some kind of security alarm set on the door or something, not that it, or he would stop me. I creep across the foyer, gently pulling the door handle down bracing for a deafening alarm to blow my cover, but there’s nothing, no sound.

  I move fast, running down the driveway and pulling my jacket around my body tight, shielding it from the cold.

  Trying to navigate my way down to the parking lot of Penderal Bay is super fun in the dark… not. I make it with one minute to spare before I hear Mel’s Ferrari speed into the lot. Yeah, she’s fucking loaded, well her family is, which by association makes her filthy rich too. Mel has offered to give me disgusting amounts of money over the years because she knows my situation and wants to help, and I love her for it, but I don’t want it. Maybe I’m too proud but I don’t care. She stopped asking me after a while knowing how strongly I feel about it.

  As she spins the car around, she puts the window down and screams, “Holy shit you look hot Ems, I think I just turned.” She catcalls as she parks, letting me get in as I roll my eyes at her laughing. This, this is what I need. My girl always makes me laugh and feel so much lighter, no matter what is weighing down on me.

  “You turned? The male population will be thoroughly disappointed. You better not fuck off with some hot bad boy tonight,” I joke. Mel gasps dramatically, putting her hand to her heart, feigning insult.

  “Would I ever!”

  The answer to that is no, she has never abandoned me for a guy and neither have I.

  It’s a deal we made when we started going out to bars when we were underage. I mean technically we still are, but we’re both turning twenty-one in a matter of months so it’s not a big deal.

  We didn’t think it was a big deal when we were seventeen either.

  “So why did I just pick you up at the beach at 11pm? You don’t have a secret lover do you?” She jokes with me… little does she know the reality.

  Wait, no. He isn’t my lover.

  “Good one. No, I do not have a secret lover.” I laugh as I answer her, knowing I need to dish on everything that’s gone down.

  “But… there is something I need to tell you but I’m going to need a few hundred shots first,” I confess. Mel looks away from the road and at me briefly. She looks concerned, taking me in before returning her gaze to the road.

  “Ok sure, shots first.” She agrees, focused on driving.

  We sing at the top of our lungs to whatever comes on the radio, laughing so hard we nearly cry. I’ve missed this. I don’t care what anyone says, these moments are pure magic. There is nothing better than spending time with your girlfriends, getting a little tips
y and dancing the night away.

  Guys don’t get it. I think they must think girls go out to meet guys and fuck. We don’t, well, there are some girls that do, but most of the time it’s purely the freedom that comes with letting loose, being yourself and embracing all of those parts of you that are hidden away in the hours of daylight.

  After twenty minutes we’re here. High on life and laughter and feeling ready to drink and dance. Mel parks around the corner from the club because she is ferociously cautious when it comes to her baby (that’s what she calls it).

  She looks amazing in tight black, high waisted shorts, fishnet tights, and a loose fitted t-shirt with strategic rips—she’s tied it at the front so a little of her toned midriff is on display. Like me, she’s wearing combat boots because we know the drill. Her strawberry blonde hair is in loose waves like mine, dropping to her waist, her makeup looking hot, dark smoky eyes accentuating her bright bluey-green color and some neutral lip gloss on her lips.

  Giving each other a look of approval on our outfits, she loops her arm in mine and we walk to the doors. The bouncer gives us a once-over, then a twice-over taking us in, then nodding at the door gesturing for us to go in.

  “Have a good night, ladies,” he says, and we smile in reply, and walk inside.

  The air is thick and smoky, the dancefloor to the left filled with writhing bodies. Towards the back is the bar which curves around to the right where there are some small intimate booths. Some couples are going heavy on the PDA… and I’m pretty sure I see a guy with his hand up his girl’s skirt as we walk by.

  The music blares so loudly we can hardly hear ourselves think, hot sweaty bodies already occupying the space as we push toward the bar. Once we reach it, we sit on two of the free bar stools because most people are on the floor dancing. We order five shots of tequila for each of us. Go hard or go home. And I have some heavy shit to talk about so I’m definitely going to need to take the edge off.