Twisted Lies 2

by Sedona Venez

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “Shit. I’d let him cuff me and spank me, and I’d call him daddy.”

  An elderly woman looked at Jade with disdain.

  Jade eyed her right back. “Move along, lady. Nothing to see here.”

  I slapped my hands over my mouth to stop the laughter. “I can see you’re planning on making trouble tonight.”

  “What’s new? Besides, you need a little trouble in your life.” She knowingly looked at me. “Now, let’s get back to McKay. His hot sidekick in the white tux looks promising. Who is he?”

  I smiled snidely. “His lover.”

  Completely mystified, she stared at him. “Really?” She twirled her hair. “After arguing with Cate, I don’t have the strength for a sexual conversion.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “No. It’s his business partner, Ram Steele.”

  Her eyes narrowed with interest. “Fascinating.” She looped her arm through mine and pulled. “We must go over and bask in their hotness.”

  I didn’t budge. “Nope. We’re not doing that,” I said simply.

  Jade smiled widely. “Yes, we are.” She paused. “But if you want me to make a scene and call them over, I can do that, too. It’s your choice, sweetness.”

  I growled. Jade had the finesse of a bull in a china shop. I knew she would take pleasure in making a scene for a multitude of reasons.

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  She smugly looked at me. “I knew you’d see it my way.” She pulled me through the crowd toward McKay and Ram.

  McKay’s eyes traveled from the top of my head down my curvy body. His wolfish glare made me feel like a mouse beneath the bloodthirsty stare of a cat.

  “Lick them,” Jade muttered.

  I almost tripped. “What?”

  “Lick your damn lips,” she hissed.

  I scoffed, raising my chin in a gesture of defiance.

  “Do it. He’s checking you out, all marauder-like.”

  And he was checking me out. His smoldering gaze slowly perused my length in a deliberate way. I went breathless right to the pit of my stomach. I didn’t understand how he had the power to make me feel excited, giddy, and turned-on all at the same time.

  His mouth curved in that secret way that said he knew how much I wanted him.

  Damn it. This is not good.

  I wanted to walk in the opposite direction, fleeing from his disturbing heated focus. But McKay was a beast of prey, and any sign of fear would be my doom and his victory.

  I sighed with relief when Bigsby ambled over to McKay and said something to him. McKay nodded to Ram before stalking away from the bar with Bigsby at his heels.

  Jade stopped, incredulously looking at me. “Where the hell are they going?”

  I tried to quash the glimmer of disappointment as I watched McKay navigate through the crowd and up the staircase.

  “Hopefully home,” I said while grabbing a champagne flute from a passing tray before downing it like water.

  SEVEN

  SINTHIA

  The night was turning out exactly as I’d envisioned it—boring. Between Kyle stalking me from the perimeter of the room and no sign of McKay, I drank more alcohol than should have been allowed.

  It was like a fucking circus. Botoxed and silconed-to-death women were trying to catch the attention of the hired photographer roaming with a camera around his neck as he playfully snapped shots of celebrities. Cate and her fiancé Bigsby made the rounds. Erika and Mitch meandered about. And I was drinking solo while Jade did her Bellisario duty by circulating among the boring guests.

  I had many moments of wanting to pull my hair out from sheer boredom or wanting to leave to get some much-needed sleep. I would have, but I’d promised Jade I would stick it out until the end of the event.

  Damn. This night was turning out to be one big epic fail. I thought it couldn’t get worse—until I saw Kyle’s wife making a beeline toward me.

  I sighed loudly. Let the drama begin.

  “Hello,” Claire said, standing in front of me while twitching nervously.

  Her designer gown clung to her slender frame. She looked as though she’d blow away if I breathed too hard in her direction. There was one thing for certain. Kyle’s wife was drop-dead gorgeous. By her whole aura, I could also tell she was well bred and came from lots of money.

  I arched a brow. “Hello.” Nonchalantly, I continued sipping my drink.

  I bit back a laugh, fascinated by the antsy flutter of Claire’s eyes as they discreetly darted around as if she expected Kyle to fly into a rage at seeing her talking to me.

  Her mouth tilted into a brief small smile. “I love the gown you created for Erika. You have a keen sense for design.”

  Raising a dark brow, I said, “Thank you.”

  “This conversation is… awkward, isn’t it?” She chewed on her lower lip in consternation.

  My lips twisted into a smirk. “Yes, very.”

  A smile curved her lips. “Exactly.”

  I shrugged. “But I get it. You’re stuck at a gala with your husband’s ex. It’s natural to be curious.”

  “When did you two date?” she demanded in a low tone.

  I sipped my drink, pointedly looking at her. “He was my high school crush,” I responded. I left out the fact that Kyle was my introduction to fucking like horny rabbits in every position and place we could find—his parents’ boat, under the high school bleachers, the back of his expensive convertible.

  Claire couldn’t hide her incredulity. “High school?” she inquired, her eyes wide. “He just seemed so… happy and elated to see you.”

  I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an enchanting kind of chick.” I kept my tone conversational.

  She bit her bottom lip with a worried look in her baby-blue eyes.

  “Look, Claire, Kyle and I have been over for years. I have no interest in him whatsoever.” I drained my glass.

  “Kyle and I have an open marriage.” She cleared her throat. “Well, the open part is something he wants. From the way he’s been watching you tonight, I just assumed you and he were sleeping with each other.” Confusion clouded her gaze.

  Watching? Kyle was eye-fucking me from across the room.

  With an aggravated sigh, I said, “Absolutely not. He’s not my type.” I paused. “Anymore.”

  “He’s rich and handsome. He’s everyone’s type.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t give a shit what you think, Claire. You came over to me, asking questions, and I’m answering even though I don’t fucking have to.”

  I stared, contemplating where I wanted to go with this conversation since Claire was being very polite. I just couldn’t even muster up the strength to be a bitch and dislike her.

  “So how did you meet Kyle?”

  Years ago, I’d learned that, for some reason, the super rich loved talking about their personal lives.

  “We grew up together,” she offered tentatively.

  I scrutinized her. “It figures,” I muttered under my breath.

  Claire actually smiled. “I know. It’s pathetic.”

  I smiled back. “I’m trying not to judge… too hard.”

  “I heard Mitch warning him to stay away from you.” She frowned. “I was curious because of the way Kyle sounded when mentioning your name.” She bit her bottom lip, apologetically looking at me. “So I asked around about you.” She sheepishly eyed me.

  I stiffened. “Invading my privacy? That’s a pretty fucked-up thing to do.”

  She held up her hand. “I’m sorry, but I had to know.”

  I frowned. “Had to know what?”

  “Who my competition is.”

  There it is. The claws are finally out.

  I laughed, looking her up and down with disdain. “Sweetie, from where I’m standing, there is no competition.”

  She licked her lips. “You’re taking this the wrong way. I’m not trying to fight. I’m telling you to stay away from my husband.”

  I frowned. “Shou
ldn’t you be telling your husband to stay away from me?”

  “I have.”

  I shrugged. “Okay. Well, problem solved. Are we done?”

  She tensely stared at me.

  I sighed loudly. “What makes you think Kyle’s interested in me?”

  Her mouth tightened. “Because you’re exactly his type.”

  I choked and then loudly cleared my throat. No, she didn’t say I was Kyle’s type. “That’s funny because when he broke up with me, he made it abundantly clear I could never be his type.” It was a fact that still stung to this day.

  She anxiously tapped her glass, but the look in her eyes was icy and conniving. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Sinthia. I just—”

  I blinked. What’s up with this passive-aggressive bitch?

  One minute, Claire had been timid and anxious, and the next, she was ready to rip out my throat.

  I cut her off. “For the last time, I’m not interested in fucking your husband.” I placed my glass on the bar. I was so done with this conversation.

  “Sinthia, I’m really sorry for…” Claire blinked as if she were ready to cry.

  Bullshit. She wasn’t sorry. She was a manipulative wench, putting on a show to garner sympathy from the guests, acting like I was a whore who was trying to steal her husband.

  Not giving her a chance to finish, I pinned her under a hard look. “Nice meeting you, Claire,” I said before calmly walking away.

  “Bitch,” Claire mumbled.

  “I heard that,” I responded without bothering to turn around. Weaving through the crowd, I stopped a passing waiter. “Where’s access to the rooftop?” I needed air and space to get away from the bullshit.

  He pointed to the spiral staircase. “Top of the stairs and toward the left.”

  “Thanks,” I responded before making my way up the grand staircase to the top floor.

  I froze when I felt something brush against my ass. Whirling around so fast, I almost stumbled down the stairs before firm hands gripped and steadied me. They were Kyle’s. The idiot was holding on to me with a fucking stupid look on his face.

  I pulled away from him, stepping securely onto the landing. “Did you just touch my ass?” I snapped, pointing in his face.

  He stepped closer, spreading his hand across my hip. I promptly knocked it off.

  “I couldn’t help myself. Damn, you are so tempting.”

  I refused to let him intimidate me. With my chin tilted at a stubborn angle, I held my ground. “Touch me again, and I will fuck you up. I don’t care who’s watching, including your wife,” I said, my voice flat.

  He held his hands up in front of him in fake surrender. “Whoa.” He laughed. “I’m not a fighter. I’m a lover.”

  I was done with his stupid ass. “Why are you stalking me, Kyle?”

  “Seeing you stirred up old memories”—he licked his lips and studied me—“like memories of how good we were together in bed.”

  I scoffed. “First, you’re married. Second, you’re fucking married,” I said with a sneer.

  “My wife and I have an understanding. I’m free to see and sleep with whomever I want.”

  “What you’re suggesting is—”

  His lips twitched into a mockery of a smile. “A no-strings, no-promises night of hot, sweaty sex.” His voice held a cocky confidence.

  I scrunched up my nose. He was truly a worthless piece of shit.

  I pasted a smile on my face and delivered my next line in a saccharine tone. “I wouldn’t fuck you even if you had a thousand-dollar bill stuck to your limp cock.”

  His smile slipped. “Liar,” he accused. “I saw the way you were staring at me.”

  The dude was fucking delusional. I couldn’t believe I’d let him steal my chances for a normal relationship with every single guy I met after him. Well, no more. He wasn’t worth it.

  I balled up my fist, stepping toward him. “That was a gaze of disgust. Get a damn clue, Kyle.”

  “Are you seeing someone?”

  I scrutinized him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “You didn’t answer, so that means no.” He grinned like he’d won the fucking lottery.

  My nostrils flared. “I didn’t answer because it’s none of your fucking business, Kyle.”

  I wasn’t about to divulge that I hadn’t had someone in my life for years. Yes, I’d occasionally had sex with a man when I missed the sensual touch of a lover, but I hadn’t formed any relationships. I was too emotionally detached for that.

  “We can make this work, Sinthia.”

  “Fuck off.” I smiled icily.

  Rage twisted Kyle’s face, but just for an instant. Turning on my heel, I walked away.

  “This is far from over, Sinthia. I’ll be seeing you.” His dark tone rang with deadly promise.

  “Not if I see you first, idiot,” I said in a singsong voice, swaying with a grin. There was nothing better than closing the book on an asshole ex.

  I veered off to the left, only to see two hulking men leaning on each side of the entryway to the rooftop. I watched Bigsby as he exited the rooftop, storming past the men guarding it.

  Shit. He’s heading my way.

  I’d avoided the prick all night. I wasn’t about to have a boring long conversation that involved him leering at me like some sex object. I dipped into the empty ladies’ restroom and waited for him to walk past it. I could hear his footsteps approaching the restroom. Then they stopped and walked away.

  Taking an extra precaution, I waited a beat before stepping out. I breathed a sigh of relief that Bigsby was gone, but the two men were still standing guard by the entrance. Biting my bottom lip, I debated whether I wanted to mess with the two MMA-looking men or just go back downstairs to the gala. Without a doubt, I knew either Bigsby or Kyle would be waiting to pounce as soon as I stepped into the gala. I sighed. That left only one choice—onward toward the rooftop. I swayed down the hallway, stopping before the two men leaning up against the wall with their thick arms crossed. Each one was built like a fucking tank and just shy of six feet tall.

  I smiled winningly at them. “Is the president of the United States out there on the rooftop?”

  They didn’t crack a smile.

  Wow. Tough crowd.

  “As gorgeous”—I winked at them—“and intimidating as you two obviously are, I’m going to have to ask you both to get the fuck out of my way. I need fresh air and lots of it. So if the president isn’t out there, having some kind of clandestine meeting about saving the world, then I’m going to the rooftop.”

  I stepped forward, and they swiftly closed ranks. Irritated, I tried to push them out of the way, but it was like pushing a brick wall.

  “Whoa. Now hang on a minute, sweet cheeks,” said the one with sandy hair, holding his palms out to ward me off.

  I impishly swayed back and forth. “Come on now. Are you really going to make me kick your ass in my pretty dress?”

  They both grinned before the one with sandy hair, looking strong as an ox, said, “Sorry. Not going to be able to let you on the rooftop, sugar.”

  I surged forward again. “Bullshit. I’m not just going to stand here.”

  The one with sandy hair widened his stance.

  “Move out of my way.”

  The other man with a blond buzz cut and a maniacal glint in his eyes said, “It’s reserved, but come back later and I’ll arrange something real private.”

  He gave me an adorable rakish grin and his eyes flirtatiously flicked to mine. I bit back a smile. He was hot, but I wasn’t interested.

  “Private? With you?” I pursed my lips. “Not going to happen.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Move,” I huffed impatiently.

  A deep voice rumbled from the rooftop. “Let her through.”

  They cleared the entrance, allowing me to walk to the lighted rooftop with its medieval architecture and vines hugging the bricks.

  I skidded to a stop when one of them said, “Wicked tattoos, sugar.”

&nbs
p; I turned around to find them both staring at me with sly grins.

  The one with a buzz cut winked at me.

  “I give him two weeks,” the one with sandy hair said to the other one.

  They stepped back to flank the entrance.

  Two weeks for what?

  I turned around to find Core McKay staring at me with no smile. He was standing under the bright moonlight, looking delicious, dangerous, and just plain fucking gorgeous.

  “Making trouble everywhere you go,” he drawled in that ridiculously gruff tone.

  My cunt clenched like it recognized its master’s voice.

  “What can I say? I’m a very bad girl.” I batted my eyelashes almost comically before sashaying toward him.

  Stopping before him, I tilted my head, and my eyes traveled up his well-built tall body. He had discarded the tuxedo jacket he wore earlier. Muscles bunched against his crisp tailored white shirt, and his rolled-up sleeves displayed the tattoos on his forearms. His collar was unbuttoned, and all I could focus on was the all-seeing eye tattoo on his neck.

  Damn. This didn’t bode well for me. I was a sucker for men with tattoos.

  He crossed his muscular arms. “Hmm… that happens to be my favorite type of woman.”

  He was sexy—well, hot and scary. His dark hair was cut short on the sides, but it was stylishly longer on top. His searing steel-gray eyes made me visualize seriously wicked, naughty things.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Sin, focus.

  As the cool air whirled around us, I sauntered past him to take in the beautiful views of both downtown and uptown Manhattan as well as the Hudson River.

  Feeling his intense gaze, I sighed before turning and leaning a hip against the ornate railing. I glared coolly at him. Nothing about him was pretty-boy like or classically handsome. He was just very attractive in a rugged and dangerous way.

  He regarded me for a long time before smoothing a hand across his blunt-cut midnight-black hair. And just like that, he smiled an actual bad-boy smirk that made my pulse race and sex clench as I imagined all the sexy, kinky possibilities.

  McKay was lethal. I shook my head, feeling possessed by his presence. With one look, the man could turn my brain into mush every single time.