Beautiful Lies

by Gina Whitney

  Needless to say, I stopped on that channel and turned up the volume to see what the deal was. A gushy piano soundtrack overlaid a montage of shots featuring Sig and me fake-posing for photographers, pretending to be a happy couple. The last shot featured a photo of our trip to St. Tropez. Sig was kissing me on the cheek, and I was flashing a toothy grin. However, it was a farce, as usual. On that same supposed romantic getaway, Sig and I did not even share bedrooms. Fuck, we were on different floors of the hotel. And that kiss that everyone cooed over? Well, Sig struggled to even put his lip skin on my face, and when the photographers left, he promptly wiped it off with sanitizer.

  The tabloid news reporter informed the viewing audience about how Klå stock had quadrupled since I had become Sig’s girlfriend and that he was now a billionaire. She remarked that I was his good luck charm.

  So that was it…the reason Sig did not see to it that I was disfigured or Cam was killed. That slime ball was protecting his investment, keeping an eye on the bottom line. He knew the whole time that I was the reason not only for some of his success…hell, I was the reason for all of it. As long as the prospect of Cam getting killed was an option, Sig could manipulate me however he wanted to.

  Sig came downstairs dressed in an expensive royal blue suit. It made him look deader than he normally did. He paused for a moment and just stared at me. He was evaluating my value to him and if it was even worth it to keep me alive. I could see his facial muscles tighten as he went back and forth about what to do with me. After a long while, Sig made up his mind. He abruptly thrust a long-sleeved dress at me and tossed some pumps over to my feet. The outfit matched his in color. “Put this on. We have a meeting with Mr. Wotherspoon today,” he said dryly.

  I assumed that Cam would not be at this meeting. After all, Sig’s plan was to keep us apart.

  “Why should I go? Are you planning on having me jumped or lynched today?” I asked, totally feeling my Wheaties.

  Sig headed in my direction. He displayed his dominance by standing over me. I turned my face away from him, not wanting to expose my distress. I trained my eyes on the television that was still showing my face with a scroll of the millions of dollars Sig had earned in the past year from clothing, fragrances, and an upcoming beauty line.

  The next thing I knew Sig jerked me up from the couch by my shoulders. For such an angular man, he had a tremendous amount of strength to call upon whenever he was angered. He stood me squarely in front of him as he dug his long, pointy nails into my skin. I flinched and reared back at the coldness of his sandpaper touch.

  “Why would I do that to a lovely creature such as you? Though it is business, I am merely offering an invitation for an afternoon out. Ever since you met Chief Pepperdine and Xander, you have been out of sorts,” Sig said in his sarcastic yet psychotic way.

  Really, you have the gall to say I am out of sorts. Those assholes threatened me with acid and tried to rip out my teeth.

  Sig said, “I know you want to pout. But, really, what good is that going to do you? Absolutely none. Your life can be so easy if you only cooperate. I have given you the world. The least you can do is act with a bit of gratitude. You can oblige me that much, can’t you?”

  I tried to disassociate as Sig’s nails became daggers puncturing my skin. I could feel them burrowing down to muscle.

  “No disrespect, but most gifts do not come with blood works. After meeting Xander, I am more than sane to ask what you have in store for me next. What is the meeting about? This meeting that seems to have fallen out of the ether and demands such immediacy,” I said.

  Oops. I had crossed the line with Sig once again by asserting my right to know and have some say-so about my life. I winced in pain as I started bleeding where he placed his clawed grip. I tried to run, but Sig had me trapped. With horror, I watched this hellion. He pursed his mouth into a tiny pucker as a barely discernable twitch enlivened his eye.

  “I’ve already been merciful with you once. Do not test my patience. Just do as you are told,” he said flatly. That moment confirmed that Sig had no soul in his body. He was just a vessel for the manifestation of evil.

  I looked over Sig’s shoulder to make sure Xander was not lurking around. When I did not see the ominous shadow of his menacing form coming at me, I knew I was somewhat safe. This relative safety was threadbare and dependent on my cooperation with Sig. I did not want to give in to him. I wanted to jump on his scrawny ass and beat the shit out him. But he was standing there looking at me with my father’s eyes. My fragile countenance fell as my alter ego took over. She told me I was trapped and to do as I was told. If I did not, she would make sure that I did something stupid that would not only hurt me but Cam also. I did not think that my fucking crazy ego would be so hard to defeat.

  Since I was already down, my alter ego made a suggestion. She thought it would be proper if I begged Sig to let me see Cam again. Yes, I was that desperate. The rationale was that Sig was the gatekeeper that stood between us. There was no other barrier. If I begged enough, made myself look like a fool, then that would be enough to satisfy Sig’s sadistic streak. I would allow him to bully, humiliate, and torture me as much as he wanted. But Sig had to give me something in return, and that was an opportunity to see Cam, no matter how brief.

  “Can I at least tell Cam that I am sorry?” I meekly asked.

  Quicker than a lightning strike, Sig grabbed me by the neck and ran me into the wall. He started choking me.

  “What? Where did that come from? That request is so half-witted that I cannot fathom why you would bring it up,” he said, banging my head against the wall. “I am trying to make your life better, and you bring him up.”

  I felt a blackout coming on. I had to distract him. “Sig, we’ll be late for the meeting. I know you don’t want any visible markings on me. So let’s discuss this at a later time. I need time to get ready. I don’t even have makeup on yet,” I said, trying to appear like I was not scared shitless.

  Sig did not immediately release my neck. With suspicion, he turned his head a bit while keeping both eyes on me. “See what you have done? Because you started an argument, we do not have enough time for you to properly dress. You will just have to put your makeup on in the car. Just put on the dress now.”

  I heard bells and whistles, like cartoonish blasts of smoke coming out of my ears. Something was definitely wrong. Sig was the most anal person I had ever come across. I swore sometimes that his middle name was Sphincter. So it was strange for him not to plan an event or meeting down to the minute details. This all sounded like he was being spontaneous, something he never, ever did.

  Reluctantly, I took the dress with me into a half bath. There was no way I was going to balk in front of Sig; I did not want to have another encounter with Xander. I locked the door behind me to guard against any intruders then placed the dress over the toilet and immediately searched the bathroom like an inmate in prison. Really, that is what I was for all practical purposes. I needed a shank. But there was nothing in the bathroom except toilet paper, soap, and hand towels. I shook my head in defeat and promptly started to take off my clothes.

  I held up the dress before I put it on. Under different circumstances I would have adored its handcrafted elegance. It was a cocktail dress but could easily be worn to any formal occasion. Its royal blue color made it spark with vibrancy. The fabric was cottony soft and smelled of the perfumed paper from the designer box it came out of. However, all of those things made no difference in light of the bizarre circumstance I was thrust into. I still could not shake the feeling that this would be the dress I would be buried in.

  As I slipped the dress onto my body, I could not help but wonder what Sig had planned for me. He was diabolical and knew what he was doing by throwing me off guard. That was one of his many ways to disrupt my equilibrium and keep me mired in confusion and depression. Admittedly, Sig’s method worked. My Stockholm syndrome was well set with my alter ego totally bonded with him.

  I could barely zi
p the dress because of the mad thoughts infiltrating my head. This was how Sig inflicted mental torture on me even when he was not in the room. I was definitely trained. If Sig was not around, his training made me do fucked-up shit to myself. I made sure I remained his property and would continue to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Shit, that is how that motherfucker came up a winner each and every time.

  This was a battle of wills, and right now I was fighting in the dark with my hands tied behind my back. Today the only way to combat Sig was to confront whatever surprise he had lined up for me. I decided that I would at least try to be brave. No matter what that sociopath had in store for me, I would face it. I looked in the mirror once more and wondered if that would be the last time I saw myself. I kissed my fingertips and then pressed them against my sad reflection—a little self-love come much too late.

  Like my entire life with Sig, it was a stressful ride to The Plaza. I sat on the other side of the limousine from him with my arms folded and my knee pressed against the door. I did not want my body anywhere near his. If I could have ridden on the roof of that limousine, I would have.

  Sig looked down at my knee with disgust. It was beet red and chafed from the pressure I put on it. “I have lost all tolerance and patience with you. I have had enough of your insolent pouting. You will put a smile on your face and represent me to the best of your ability. Otherwise Xander may have to pay you another visit.”

  I rolled my eyes and kept my face turned toward the window. I was trying to block out Sig’s threat, but the thought of Xander gave me the shakes. To take my mind off Xander, I watched random people on the street going about their daily lives. These were the same people who envied my storied life so much. They fantasized about having my house, cars, money, and looks. They could not see the beauty in their own lives— lives that they believed to be so mundane or petty. I wished to God that I could switch places with them. At that moment, they had no idea how I prayed that same God would strike Sig down with a stroke, just severe enough to paralyze his mouth. But God was not with me, and Sig just kept at me.

  “Look at you. With that frown on your face, you look like you are a hundred years old. Tomorrow we are going to a doctor and getting you some Botox and schedule a much-needed nip and tuck.”

  “Fuck you, Sig,” I said.

  The driver was looking back at us in the rearview mirror. Though the partition was up and the driver could not hear our conversation, he could tell from Sig’s facial expression and the way he was about to lurch at me that something was very wrong.

  Sig saw the driver watching him and settled back into his seat. He said through his teeth, “I see you picked an opportune time to backtalk me. But let me give you a warning. Do not tread on me, for I am a formidable enemy. I will not hesitate to destroy the object of your desire. I would advise you to at least pretend that you are happy. You do not want your adoring fans to see you looking haggard on all the magazine covers and Internet blogs. Like Xander, they will rip you apart.”

  My shallow insecurity agreed with Sig. I remember once I went out on a casual errand with no makeup and schlumpy clothes. Some photographer caught me, and I was negative tabloid fodder for at least a month. Though I knew I had to work on myself, I could not conquer all my demons with a simple snap of my fingers. This difficult process would take time, and each little monster had to be defeated one by one. However, the little beast of vanity would have a victory today.

  I pulled out my mirror and touched up my makeup, making sure to hide any bruises I received from Xander’s blitz and Sig’s choking. The evidence of Sig’s abuse was minimal, nothing a little concealer around the neck could not handle. Thank goodness he did not choke me for that long. I then focused on the rest of my face. It was tremendously difficult to keep my lipstick from smearing as the limousine seemed to seek out every pothole and bump. But it was a welcome distraction from the pressure-cooker tension building up in the air. As I looked at my perfectly arched brow, I thought that the least Sig could have done was tell me I looked good. But that asshole sat there with that dour look on his aging face, his unwanted stare critiquing me.

  Why do I care what Sig thinks about my looks? He sure as fuck does not give a shit what I think about his. If I did, I would tell him how he looks like the capital of the State of Ugly.

  Sig could not be more barf inducing. I do not know how I did not see it before, but his jawline remarkably resembled my father’s. I stared at him a little while longer as his face seemed to take on more of my father’s features. Anxiety knotted up in my stomach, and I felt the need to search the limousine for a vomit bag. Right there in the backseat, Sig was transforming into my father. Thankfully, we arrived at The Plaza. As the limousine pulled up to the curb, Sig’s true form came back. Never have I been so relieved to see his awful face. Sig scrutinized me with one final once-over.

  “I guess that will have to do. There is not much we can do to correct the abomination called you,” Sig said right before he exited the limo. I sat still and waited for him to at least offer his hand to me. No such luck. The driver saw my embarrassment. He promptly got out of the limousine and opened the door for me.

  “If you will do me the honor, madam,” the driver said as he extended his hand to me.

  Sig immediately grabbed the limo driver’s arm and spun him around. Unfortunately, the driver was not only a small man but one who avoided physical confrontations. Otherwise he probably would have popped Sig one.

  “What do you think you are doing? She does not need your help. Get back in the car,” Sig said to the driver. Man, he did not want anyone to help me.

  Now, what the driver lacked in body size and aggression, he made up for with knowledge of street psychology. Having been a driver for over a decade, he had come across so many people like Sig—entitled, arrogant assholes. He knew their secrets and lies. More than that, he knew what they feared the most. That fear was to be below someone else. They were pushed to be on top of the heap of humanity.

  The driver shook off Sig’s hand. “Sir, I assumed a man of your caliber would insist on only the finest treatment for his loved one. I would.”

  Even though the limo driver’s barb was incredibly subtle, Sig understood that he just had his ass handed to him by what he considered to be a lowly person.

  The driver offered his hand to me again. “May I assist you, please?” he respectfully and kindly asked. I tried not to laugh at Sig, who was standing there with his rage-filled eyes wide open. I took the driver’s hand, and he gave me a friendly wink.

  With a bit more confidence, I slid out of the limousine and slipped the driver a large tip. I approached the hotel’s entrance and noticed that the doormen and concierge were extremely excited to see me. They all looked like they were in on some joke that was on me. I hesitated before walking into that hotel. I just knew that something shitty was waiting for me.

  The concierge took Sig and me to the Terrace Room. There, we were greeted not only by Mr. Wotherspoon but carefully selected members of the firm, media, and major players in the fashion industry. Xander and Chief Pepperdine loomed nearby. The concierge had somehow come up from behind me like a ghost and, under the direction of Sig, took my purse.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” I asked.

  “Ms. Amsel, I assure you that your property will be properly looked after,” the concierge said as he walked away.

  “Sig, my purse.”

  “Quit your whining. Can’t you see these people have been waiting for you?” Sig snapped under his breath.

  Why do I suddenly feel like the last hamburger at a cookout? Okay, don’t panic. Whatever you do, do not let them see you sweat.

  I put on my counterfeit smile and leaned over to whisper in Sig’s ear. “What is this all about?”

  Sig just walked away without any explanation, leaving me there to deal with an onslaught of people converging around me. They offered me the usual compliments, but this time I was not filled up by them. Instead I felt smothered
as my very breath was being robbed from me. As I tried to escape the vultures trying to eat pieces of me, I caught sight of Cam. He was standing off to the side by himself. His brow was furrowed as his eyes revealed how upset he was at me and the confusion that accompanied it.

  Cam motioned to me with his head, making sure not to draw any unwanted attention to him or me. He wanted me to ditch the crowd and join him in a secluded spot. I looked over at Xander and Chief Pepperdine, who were keeping close watch over me. I could not let them see me silently communicating with Cam. I broke off contact and tried to pretend like I did not see him. I hated to do that to him, but I was not taking any chances with his life.

  Sig went up to a podium and began to speak. I was not paying attention to anything emitting from that black hole he called his mouth until I heard him say, “Lilly, my love, could you please join me?”

  The zestful crowd clapped as I awkwardly joined Sig on the stage. I kept glancing up, halfway expecting some pig’s blood to fall from the ceiling. Instead, Sig put his arm around my waist. His touch was so repellent that I started to convulse a little bit. However, the crowd thought I was having a loving reaction toward Sig and let out a rapturous sigh.

  Argh. Cue gag reflex.

  “I know that the world has been straddling on needles, wondering who I would pick to be the new face of my company. It would have to be someone who embodied the style and innovation of the brand. Also, I am not beyond nepotism. Therefore, the choice was not difficult. Today I am announcing the new face of Klå—Lilly Amsel,” Sig said to the enthralled audience.

  My body went numb, and I became a mute. Something that resembled a smile plastered on my face, but it was really a high state of panic. I should have been happy. I had been coveting this position for the longest time, and now it made me want to shit my pants.

  “But that is not all,” Sig said as he removed a velvet box from his pocket. He dropped to one knee.