White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1)

by Kristin Mayer

  Husband. Son. Millions.

  Realization dawned, and I paused outside the utility closet in the musky hallway. I whispered to myself, “I am the other woman.”

  The door to the closet cracked open. Someone was in there, so I resumed my path to the restroom. As I passed, one hand yanked me inside while another came over my mouth to muffle my scream. I thrashed about as I was held against the wall.

  This wasn’t happening.

  I thrashed more.

  Carson. I needed to get to Carson.

  The grip intensified as I used everything I had to get free. I was immobilized. The pitch-black room made it impossible to see. They were here for me.

  My movements were restricted as panic surged through me. I wasn’t strong enough, but I refused to give up as I clawed and kicked my way to no avail.

  “Shh… I’m the man from the phone.” I stilled. The voice with the Irish accent filled my ears. His strong frame held me, eliciting goose bumps from within. “I hoped you would come this way so we could talk.” He paused. “I’m going to take my hand off and step back to give you space. If you want my help, don’t scream.”

  I nodded, and instantly his hand left my mouth and the pressure of his body vanished. Even with my eyes adjusted, I was unable to make out anything.

  My heavy breathing was the loudest noise in the room, followed by the sound of people walking by the door. He asked, “Did I hurt you?”

  “You scared the shit out of me. You’re a complete stranger who broke into my car and now yanked me into a closet. Who are you?” It felt good to release some of the pent-up emotions.

  “Someone trying to right a wrong.”

  I snapped, “You keep saying that. What wrong are you trying to right? I’m tired of the games.”

  A few feet away I heard a sigh—like on the phone today. He sounded frustrated. “I can’t share that yet. I need to know I can trust you.”

  “You’re asking me to trust you blindly after everything that has happened to Alex?”

  The voice was a little closer. “Yes, I know. It has to be this way for now, Willow. I wish I was able to tell you everything, but it will put you in more danger.”

  More danger? I massaged my temples as I listened to him. He stayed still and wasn’t moving closer to me. I wanted to argue with him, but I didn’t have the energy. Should I leave? Against my better judgement, I was going with my instincts, which were to stay and hear him out.

  But… I needed a little more information. “Have we met before?”

  “I’ve met Alex before. Did Candy or Harley recognize you?”

  The acid feeling returned to my veins. The woman now had a name… Candy. “No. Did you know Alex had a child?”

  “Yes, Alex is a bastard.” The venom in his voice pierced the air. At least we felt the same about Alex.

  How many other people knew? My fingers dug deeper into my temples. “I hope I’m not pregnant.”

  “What?”

  Fuck, why did I choose this moment to have word vomit? The stress was getting to me. This information was too personal to share at this point, let alone admit out loud. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

  “Are you pregnant with Alex’s child?”

  The silence felt suffocating. “I don’t want to talk about this.” More silence, but I could hear his breaths. I wanted to move past this to see what else he had to offer. “I don’t know if I am or not yet. We had a slip-up right before he died.”

  Another tired sigh. Oddly, he brought me comfort with his presence, which was insane, considering the circumstances. Something stirred between us. I was drawn to him… undeniably, as I felt myself wanting to gravitate toward him. With some effort, I forced myself to remain on my side of the room. Only so much crazy could be tolerated in one day. The automatic response toward this stranger jarred me.

  “Did you tell anyone about me?”

  I guess my reveal was too personal for him, too, since he changed the subject, for which I was thankful. “No. I went to Carson’s after I opened the envelope. I left the part about you out of it.”

  No response. I felt the need to explain who Carson was all of a sudden. What if he thought Carson was someone I saw on the side since Alex had not been faithful to me? The last thing I wanted was for him to think I took my vows lightly. “Carson is my best friend. We’re like siblings.”

  “Why?”

  The man was driving me nuts with his nonanswers and rapid-fire questions. “Why are Carson and l like siblings or why didn’t I tell him about you?”

  “About me.”

  In the dark, I shrugged even though he wasn’t able to see me. “I don’t know.” Every fiber in my being wanted to shut this man out of my life, but my heart told me I needed this man to figure out what was going on. If I wanted to know… if I wanted my life back… I needed him. Even with Alex’s betrayal fresh on my psyche, part of me trusted this man, and I had no idea why. The thought both sobered and scared me at the same time. I found it hard to keep my guard up around him. An unstoppable draw kept me entranced. Fear shot through me at the strength of emotion I had around this stranger.

  Panic ensued.

  “I need to get back. Will I hear from you again?”

  Again, a one-word answer that infuriated me. He offered nearly zero insight. “Yes.”

  Though I was the one ending this conversation, I wanted to prolong it. To give me something to hold on to. Maybe I needed to add "Get checked out by a psychologist" to my list. I was becoming certifiably insane. “Will I ever know who you are?”

  “Yes.”

  The frustration created by this situation left me in a foul mood. “Can you give me anything? Something to go on?”

  “You’ll be safe. I promise.”

  The words stirred something within me, which filled me with guilt. I needed to get out of there and clear my head. “I have to go.”

  Without warning, I left the room and made a beeline for Carson. I looked at the other woman, and she appeared to be calmer. She hugged Harley. “Thanks for listening to me, Harley.”

  Seeing I was ready to go, Carson dropped some bills on the counter and led me out of the bar. Everything from the last few minutes in the closet was on replay in my head. The mysterious man seemed genuine. And he was certain we would meet some day. Why was that so important to me?

  I wasn’t ready to answer that. But I knew I wanted to talk to him again, and the truth of that reality scared me. Shouldn’t I be more focused on what happened with Alex? Tonight, life as I knew it had altered.

  Alex lied to me.

  He had a wife.

  All he wanted was my inheritance.

  There was a possibility I was pregnant.

  An even greater possibility I might not be safe.

  What else was there to uncover? However, instead of worrying about the Alex situation, I was focused on the strange man I’d just met. The man who broke into my car and pulled me into the closet to talk to me.

  What was wrong with me?

  My defenses were helpless around this man. All common sense left me. And worst yet… I wanted more. Mentally, I scolded myself, knowing I needed to break this habit immediately in order to keep my wits about me. This was unlike me. Completely.

  Once in the car, Carson said, “Shit, that was fucked up.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  Carson’s knuckles were white from holding the steering wheel so tight as he drove. “I know once Alex got back, we had our issues about how he treated you. But he was a bastard.”

  Laying my head against the window, I watched the rain hit it. The tears tracked faster. “He was a bastard. A bastard who lied and cheated on me.” A sob broke free. “But I was the other woman. He was married, Carson. I feel so disgusting inside.”

  He pulled the car over to the side of the road as I let the tears spill free. I sat further back into the soft black leather seats and let the anguish rip through me. The truth was hard. But I would be stronger than it.
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  “You did nothing wrong, Willow.”

  When his hand touched mine, I let it all go, yelling, “I hate him, Carson! I hate him with every fiber of my being!” Then I sagged. “I know it’s wrong to hate someone… but I do! He stole so much from me that I’ll never be able to get back.”

  I was barely able to see through the curtain of tears. Carson leaned over and hugged me. “He can’t break you, Willow. You’re stronger than that. I know it.”

  An unladylike sniffle came from me. “It gets worse.”

  Concern laced his face. “What else is there?”

  I paused, hating to say it out loud. It only made the reality of all the lies worse. “I think Alex’s business deal to get millions was to take mine. I think he was looking for holes in the trust.”

  “Oh fuck.”

  Two weeks had passed since Alex died. Nothing new surfaced on Alex, and I hadn’t heard anything from the mysterious man. The entire situation was an enigma.

  I wanted to hear from him, but I hoped Alex’s double life stayed away at the same time.

  Inside I was still a mess, but with painting, I began to heal. The loss of Mom and Dad helped prepare me for this, in a way. The hate fueled me, too. Three days ago, while I cried in my studio, I was glad Alex was dead and out of my life. I knew I wasn’t taking the high road with those thoughts, but I truly despised him with all my heart.

  Sometimes, I thought about the good times we had in order to rationalize why I had been so imperceptive. Love truly made you blind.

  I’d debated with Carson about whether or not to go to the cops or tell our families about what we’d found out. For now, we were doing neither. Instead, we contacted an investigator named Trent. Apparently he’d done some work for Carson. After I talked to Trent, I would determine if I wanted to use him or not.

  With Commander Taylor being dirty, I wasn’t sure who I could trust. It seemed smarter not to disclose everything until we knew more.

  The waves crashed against the shore as I sat in a chair and looked out at the ocean. My bare feet sifted through the soft white sand. Seagulls dipped into the ocean for a snack. I loved it out here—always had, ever since I was a child.

  I glanced back to the house and saw no one. Carson was going to join me when he finished his conference call. For now, I asked him to temporarily live with me. Since I decided not to go to the cops, I felt safer having him here, and he agreed. Before Carson left, the security system on the house needed upgrading. I also needed to look at the possibility of having someone added to the staff. That was on my list to talk to Trent about. Carson had done extensive background checks prior to using him. In fact, he helped him set up the initial structure for his company.

  Once we decided on what to do with security, more would have to be explained to Nonno, Chris, and Mildred. I knew it was going to require telling them a version of white lies. The thought made me nauseous since honesty was so important to me. But hopefully when that time came, I had a better option.

  I focused back on the soothing motion of the waves as they crested and crashed onto the shore and waited for Eva to emerge from my studio. She was an art gallery manager, in the studio looking at my latest paintings to see if she wanted them for a show. After I finished the last one the day before yesterday, I called her to see if she was interested.

  Now that the emotions lay on the canvas, I wanted them out of my house. These paintings were a little darker than my norm and I was nervous what her response would be.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the ocean as my thoughts drifted. Part of me wondered what Commander Taylor had to gain by sharing the conversation with me. There had to be more to that. When we met in his office, he’d only revealed part of the puzzle. Why that piece, I wasn’t sure. He was still in it somehow. After all, Candy knew Alex was dead. Since his office handled the case, they’d had to orchestrate telling two wives their husband had died. How could each of us get remains?

  Maybe Commander Taylor was involved in the scheme to get my trust fund. It was easier to go with the words of the mysterious man and trust no one… with the exception of Carson.

  Five days ago, Nonno picked up the remains from the crematory. When I received them, I idly wondered who got the real remains… me or Candy.

  For now, Alex’s supposed ashes were in a closet to keep me from dumping them down the garbage disposal where they belonged. Part of me felt guilty I wasn’t mourning Alex, but then I remembered all he’d done and anger diminished the guilt. My eyes were now opened to his true self.

  All I wanted was to piece my life back together and move on.

  The thought that he had a son kept occupying my thoughts. What kind of father had he been? What did the kid look like? How old was he? I pushed away the thought of meeting him. It wasn’t worth the potential consequences, but the fights Alex and I had had about children made the revelation hit home.

  Going to the precinct two weeks ago left me with more questions than I ever thought possible. If only I hadn’t gone to the precinct that day… if only.

  The biggest hurdle I had left was getting my period—less than two weeks away. I relaxed back and my thoughts wandered back to a time when I was truly ignorantly happy for the last time with him.

  He moved within me, and I arched my back, relishing the friction. My nipples tingled as they brushed against his chest while he thrust in and out of me.

  I was close. So close.

  Gabe kissed along my collar bone before sucking the sensitive flesh of my neck. I reveled in the moment since he was leaving tomorrow to return to base.

  On a plea to reach my orgasm, I whispered, “Gabe, please.”

  A light sheen covered our bodies. “I’m with you, sweetheart.”

  Our orgasms rolled through us as we called out each other’s name. Gabe collapsed on me and quickly rolled me on top of him, keeping us connected. “I love you, Willow.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Fingers trailed up my back. “One day, I’m going to make you the mother of my children.”

  I wanted to be with Gabe forever and have his children.

  “Hey, angel.”

  Leaving the bittersweet thoughts, I smiled at the term of endearment Carson had used since we were younger. One time in the tree house, the light shone behind me, and he swore I looked like an angel. Plus, I’d helped bail him out of more than one situation throughout our childhood, earning me the name.

  Opening my eyes, I responded. “Hey, you. Is your conference all done? I thought it would be longer. Eva is still looking at my paintings.”

  Wearing athletic shorts with a T-shirt, Carson squatted, bringing him eye level with me. Those blue eyes were gorgeous—they always had been. “It is. I have an idea.”

  I quirked a brow. “That sounds dangerous. You’ve gotten us into a lot of trouble throughout the years with your ideas.”

  A hand went to his chest in mock surprise. “When?”

  “The time we played hooky from school and got caught drag racing your father’s car along the shoreline.”

  His eyes lit up as a hand raked down the stubble on his face. “You may have a point. Are you in the mood to be daring?”

  “I could be, depending…”

  He gave me a mischievous wink. “Good. I need you to pack a bag.”

  “A bag?”

  “I need your help.”

  Standing, I watched Carson. He was serious. “Help?”

  He chuckled. “Are you going to answer everything I say with a question?”

  “Hey, Willow. Am I interrupting?”

  I turned to see the brunette art gallery manager approaching. Her attire was not appropriate for the shore at all as her heels sank into the sand. Carson stood beside me as the familiar artistic nerves took over while I waited for her verdict. Ultimately, I never had to sell a painting and I would be financially secure. But I loved it and wanted to be successful on my own.

  “Of course not, Eva.”

  Since I let them obs
erve my art by themselves, I was never able to ask what gallery managers thought about my work after they looked at it. I was fine with criticism, but asking felt like it forced people to give disingenuous compliments if they didn’t like it.

  Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she kissed them before moving them away in an exploding motion. “Willow. My word. I must have all of them for a show. You can’t say no. I have to have them.”

  Eva was my favorite art gallery manager because of her energy and passion for art. The gallery on Madison Avenue in Manhattan drew huge crowds any time she hosted an event and generally sold out within hours. “Wow! Are you serious?”

  I was stunned. Eva rarely took entire collections. She was very selective.

  She waved her hand. “Of course I’m serious. They’re fabulous! I’m going to showcase them as soon as possible.”

  Nearly hugging Eva, I remembered myself before exclaiming, “Yes, yes you can have them! This is amazing!”

  She gave a quick clap. Needless to say, she was… eccentric. “Oh, you’ve made my day! I’m going to get to work on this immediately. We’ll go through any you want to keep and all the specifics later this week, if that works.”

  In all the excitement, she leaned in to kiss both my cheeks, like in Europe.

  “That sounds great. I don’t want to keep any.”

  Squeals erupted from her, and I took a step back at the unexpected screech. Eva was oblivious to the scene she was causing. “This is your best work yet, Willow. They are so raw and emotional. Oh, I love them. Okay, I need to get back to the gallery. Can I send someone to get all the paintings tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Eva!” I remembered Carson asked for my help and told me to pack a bag. He knew he’d be able to get me to say yes. “I may be out of town. Mildred and Chris can let them into my studio.”

  Carson beamed, knowing I basically agreed to go.

  “Perfect. Let me know. I have their numbers from the last show, in case you do decide to leave town. I’ve got to go plan this fab event.” Eva waved as she walked to her car, completely ignoring Carson.