It Started with a Lie (Truth and Lies Duet Book 1)

by Lisa Suzanne

  * * *

  “I’ve got an excellent proposal for you, Mr. Porter,” I say. “I’m just confirming our meeting time tomorrow morning.”

  “Eight o’clock,” he says.

  “I’ll be there.” It’s early for me considering we’re three hours apart, not to mention the fact that I’m planning to make a move on Viv tonight...but I’ll make it work. I’ve completed successful business transactions on far less sleep.

  “Bring that lovely young woman with you again, would you?”

  A twinge of anger pulses in my chest. Why does he want me to bring her again? My intuition tells me it’s business-related—she took good notes that helped me draft the new proposal and she interjected some good ideas during our meeting—but the caveman in me tells me it’s because she’s a gorgeous distraction in a room full of men.

  I have the call on speaker as I usually do when I’m talking with a client, and Viv glances at me and nods a confirmation that she plans to come with me again.

  My heart leaps a little higher than it should as I wonder if somehow we can manage just a single hotel room to share again.

  “She’ll be with me.”

  “Great. See you both tomorrow, then.” We say our goodbyes and I end the call.

  “Lovely young woman?” I mutter.

  She laughs. “I am lovely. You just haven’t given me a second look to notice.”

  My eyes meet hers across the office, and I feel the heat of our connection from where I sit. “I wish you understood how wrong you are.”

  She doesn’t say anything, simply returns her attention to her computer, but I know she’s affected. I can tell in the pinch of red in her cheeks and in the way she holds her gaze as far away from me as she possibly can.

  I wrap up what I’m working on mid-morning since I have to stop home to pack before I head to the airport—this time with Viv in my passenger seat. “You ready to head out?” I ask as I stand and slide my laptop into a bag.

  “I’m thinking of renting a car when we get back from Miami,” she blurts.

  I raise my brows but don’t say anything as I step around my desk.

  “It’s cheaper than a hotel, and I just think it’s a bad idea for us to spend so much time together,” she says. “I’m staying with you, working with you, and now I don’t even get my own time on my commute?”

  I lean against the backside of my desk as she throws up her defense. “I already told you you can borrow one of my cars. You were the one who agreed to travel with me today.”

  She sighs. “I just didn’t expect all this.”

  “All what?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  I walk toward her desk and lean forward. I set my palms on her desk and look down at her, and the predominant emotion I see on her face when her eyes meet mine is fear.

  Fear.

  Not that she’s scared of me, per se. I’m sure she isn’t. She’s a fucking viper who could take me down if she needed to.

  She’s scared of what she’s feeling for me when she thinks she has no business feeling it.

  But that’s where she’s wrong.

  “I won’t accept nothing as an answer,” I say, my voice gentle despite the strong words. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t expect all this?”

  She looks away from me and lets out a breath, but she doesn’t answer, not right away. I wait her out, though. I keep my eyes on her, waiting for her real answer, and when I finally get it, her words pack such a punch I actually stagger back a step.

  “I didn’t expect to have feelings for you, Brian. Okay?” She stands up, and it comes across as a power move. She can’t say her next words sitting down, and her volume increases as all the passion she feels spews out of her. “I didn’t expect to want you when I can’t have you. I didn’t expect your hatred to come on so strong and to morph into something entirely opposite in a matter of days. I didn’t expect the passion and the emotions and the confusion. I didn’t expect to see you in a suit and tie every single day and feel so ridiculously attracted to you, to think about what you keep hidden beneath it.” Her eyes widen on that confession, but it doesn’t stop her from charging forward. “I didn’t expect to be going back and forth to one of my favorite cities with you and wanting you to kiss me again when you can’t. You can’t. I really didn’t expect to be living with you and working with you and unable to escape your searing green eyes when I feel them all over me, inside and out and everywhere.”

  I don’t know what to say to any of that. I want to argue and to tell her she can have me, that I’m here and ready to offer her more than just one fun roll in the hay, that I think we have potential beyond her three months here...but the way she crosses her arms over her chest when she’s done talking and the way she looks away from me tell me she doesn’t want a response. She doesn’t want me to say anything at all, and even though it goes against every instinct I have, I don’t.

  Instead, I clear my throat, nod once at her as I press my lips together, and head for the door as she follows behind me.

  chapter thirty-two

  The ride home was awkwardly quiet as she stared out her window for the duration of our trip. She beelined for the guest room the second we walked through the doors. I head to my own bedroom and change out of my suit, and I’m reminded of the words she spoke to me less than twenty minutes ago. I didn’t expect to see you in a suit and tie every single day and feel so ridiculously attracted to you, to think about what you keep hidden beneath it.

  I want to fucking live in my suit and tie if that’s the way she feels about it.

  But, to be fair, I change into jeans and a casual black shirt. It’s one less strike of ammo I have against her, one way to try to make her feel just a little more comfortable with me.

  I knock on her door. “Viv? You ready to go?”

  She throws the door open. “It’s Vivian!” she yells at me. “Stop calling me Viv! It’s VIV-I-AN.”

  I’ve never seen her like this. “Whoa. Sorry.”

  She heaves out a huge breath and shakes her head. “No—don’t be. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It’s the stress of getting on a plane in a few hours. And beyond that, I’m sorry for what I said at the office. You just...I don’t know. It’s like you create this passion in me where I spew things out of my mouth I don’t mean to. Those thoughts should’ve stayed in my head, but when you pin me with your eyes, it’s like a truth serum.”

  I chuckle. “I promise not to look at you.”

  My words elicit a small giggle from her, and it chips away a little more of the ice between us.

  “Can we just start over?” she asks.

  “Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “Because if we start over, I have to get past hating you for taking my company from me again, and I don’t really want to go back there.”

  Her lips tip up in a tiny smile. “Agreed. Then can we go back to where we were before my word vomit at the office?”

  “Word vomit may be the single most disgusting phrase I can think of.”

  “That’s a dangerous game to start,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “Is that a challenge?”

  I laugh. “I’ve never seen this side of you, Viv-i-an,” I say, purposely drawing out the syllables at the end of her name. “I think I like it.”

  “You’re not allowed to like it. Or me.” She turns around to grab her bag. “Let’s just get through this Miami trip and take things one day at a time.”

  I nod. “Deal. Can I get your bag?”

  “No. Don’t be a gentleman. Things worked better when you were a jerk. I liked you less back then.”

  The ride to the airport is quick and painless, as is the check-in process. Soon we’re sitting at the gate, and she takes a bottle of pills out of her purse.

  “Time for the drugs?” I ask.

  “It’s the good stuff.” She winks at me then pulls two pills out of the bottle. She swallows them down before I can grab her hand to stop her.

&n
bsp; “What if I told you that you didn’t have to take those?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “I’d probably tell you you’re nuts.”

  I laugh.

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re already down, and they’ll last me six hours. Hopefully I’ll be awake by the time we land, and hopefully I don’t use your shoulder as a pillow again.”

  “Hopefully you do,” I murmur, and she gives me a look of warning.

  She can warn me all she wants with her glares and her words. It’s not going to change the way I feel.

  By the time we board the plane, her sedatives have kicked in and once again, I have to escort her to her seat. Just like last time, we didn’t book first class tickets, and some guy is already sitting by the window when we get to our row. He doesn’t even acknowledge us as we slide into our seats. Viv is able to get her seatbelt buckled on her own, and as soon as we take off, her head hits my shoulder. I lean back and breathe in the scent of her hair close to my nose.

  I relax into my seat and close my eyes for just a minute to enjoy the moment. When she’s drugged up and asleep, she’s not yelling at me. I can almost pretend for a minute we’re not bitter enemies, that she doesn’t really hate me that much, even that we’re together and she wants to be with me as much as I want to be with her.

  After her speech earlier today, though, I fear that even if she does want that, it can’t ever really happen.

  When I open my eyes, I realize I fell asleep for nearly the entire plane ride across the country. I never sleep on planes. It’s typically the only uninterrupted time I have to work, yet I let nearly five hours slip through my fingers while I slept with my cheek resting on the top of her head.

  The plane starts its descent. It’ll be dinnertime once we land. I let Vivian choose the hotel where we’ll be staying, and to my utter shock, she chose the Ritz. That means we’ll be on my turf, and I can make choices that steer us in the direction of romance under the guise I’m just taking her to my favorite places in Miami.

  Tonight, though, instead of meeting old friends or business associates, it’ll just be Vivian and me. No matter how hard she’s fighting against her feelings for me, I just know she won’t stay cooped up in her hotel room when she only has one night in town.

  And so I’ll make it a night to remember.

  I gently shake her awake once we land. It takes more than a few gentle shakes before she stirs and finally starts to move. She stretches lazily, and if she wasn’t sitting right beside me, surely my eyes would fall to her tits. But I focus forward.

  “Did I sleep on your shoulder the whole time again?” she asks, her voice raspy from sleep. It makes me want to kiss her.

  I shrug and shoot her a small smile. “Maybe.”

  She twists her lips and runs her fingertips beneath her eyes. “Sorry.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t be,” I murmur. “Best five hours I’ve spent in a long time.”

  She glances away from me and doesn’t respond as she pulls her purse out from under the seat in front of her. I notice she keeps herself busy when she doesn’t want to face something I’ve said.

  “Are those reservations at Viv still okay with you for dinner? We can go over the plan for tomorrow.” I add that last part to make it seem as though it’s related to the business purpose of why we’re here.

  She nods and yawns widely.

  “It’s Italian. Does that sound okay?” Viv is a little place that sits right on the water. It’s got candlelit tables and oozes romance.

  “Mm,” she murmurs lazily, “pasta sounds perfect.”

  Her mm sends a spike of need right through me, landing squarely in my already aching balls. I shake my head to try to get the sound out of my head, but it’s useless. It’s tattooed on my brain now, a gorgeous hum that’ll haunt my dreams.

  Once we’re checked into the hotel—in separate rooms right next door to each other—we agree to meet up in a half hour for dinner. She wants to freshen up, and I want to jerk off.

  Scratch that. I don’t want to jerk off...I need to.

  I obviously don’t say this to Vivian, but I’ll be a total asshole all night if I don’t let go of some of the need building up inside me. I can’t sleep with my cheek resting against her head, breathing in her scent, and expect not to wake up hornier than ever.

  So as soon as I’m alone in my room, I sit in the chair by my balcony, open the door so I can hear the waves crashing onto the shore, unzip my pants, pull out the big gun, and set to work.

  I stroke myself slowly at first then pick up speed as I think about her creamy tits always hidden behind such modest shirts. I think about kissing her on the pier the last time we were here. I think about wrapping my arms around her, and then I think about getting her naked on my bed back at home, a place where I can settle in every night and be reminded of what we did, where I can still smell the scent of roses she leaves behind.

  It’s that final thought, her scent still fresh in my mind mixed with her moan for pasta, that causes my undoing. I come on my hand with a grunt, grab a tissue, and clean up my mess.

  And then I’m ready for a night out in Miami with Viv.

  I knock on her door, and she answers a minute later. She’s wearing a tan blouse and jeans, and she’s barefoot. My eyes catch on that damn red toenail polish again. It’s red and racy, everything she’s not, yet it’s there—a piece of her she keeps hidden away but she’s allowing me to see.

  She eyes me for a second before opening the door wider to let me in. I wonder what her look is all about, and then I get the strange feeling she heard what I just did in my room.

  I don’t know how she could have, and it’s certainly not a cringe-worthy movie moment where the evidence is hanging off my face somewhere, but I feel like she knows. Beyond that, I feel like she knows I was thinking about her while I was doing it, and somehow that feels like a betrayal. Like if it’s going to happen, it should be with her, not be me thinking about her.

  “You ready to go?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  She nods. “Let me just get my shoes on.”

  Her room looks pretty much exactly like mine, and then I see her balcony door is open. I was going after myself pretty hard there at the end, and I feel a little embarrassed I had to whip it out the second I got behind a closed door. In all honesty, though, it’s her fault I’m a walking hard-on.

  She doesn’t ask and I certainly don’t tell as she pulls on some heels that cover up the toes.

  “Covering up the red toes?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  She shrugs and brushes off my comment.

  “Why red?” I press.

  “It’s my favorite color.”

  I wouldn’t have guessed that. I lean against the wall and stare out the window only so I’m not staring at the bed and thinking naughty thoughts, and then we head out the door toward dinner.

  It’s a short walk to the restaurant, and there’s a small line waiting outside the door. The hostess lets me know it’ll be twenty to thirty minutes even with our reservation. She takes down my cell number and lets me know she’ll text me when our table is ready.

  Viv stands outside, her hair swaying in the gentle ocean breeze, and she is perfect in this moment. Her shirt is demure and simple, even crossing the line into professional territory, but the jeans give her back a casual edge. Her blue eyes glow in the twilight as the sun sets. It’s so picturesque I actually want to take out my phone to snap a photo, but I don’t. Instead, I memorize the moment.

  “What?” she asks. She brushes her hair aside like something’s wrong. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say. “You just looked so beautiful with the sun setting behind you.”

  She looks away from me without acknowledging my words. “How long of a wait?”

  “Twenty to thirty. Want to check out the boats again?”

  “No,” she says. “That got me into some trouble last time.”

  Damn. “Okay. Want to tak
e a walk on the beach?”

  She narrows her eyes then points her finger at me in accusation. “No funny business.”

  I hold up both hands in surrender. “No funny business.” There’s absolutely nothing funny about what I want to do to her.

  We walk a few feet apart as I fight every instinct I have to touch her—either by sliding my hand into hers or wrapping my arm around her shoulders. I give her the space she needs as my confidence completely bows down to her.

  I thought I had it in the bag, thought I could easily seduce her into wanting me as much as I want her, but I was wrong.

  We take off our shoes before we hit the beach, and as soon as she sinks her feet into the warm sand, she lets out what sounds like a sigh of relief.

  “Feel good?” I ask.

  “Feels like perfection,” she says.

  Sand between my toes isn’t exactly how I’d describe perfection, but I don’t say that. “Why?”

  “I know I have dark hair, but I’m a California girl through and through. Born and raised minutes from the beach. It just always feels like home. When I’m not there, it’s where I want to be.”

  “Didn’t you say you don’t live by the beach now?” I ask as we walk along the bumps and ridges of the beach.

  She nods. “I did say that.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugs and turns her eyes out over the water. “The proximity to the beach wasn’t convenient. I’d love to move back, though.”

  Her vague response leaves me feeling confused. I want to get to know her, but she’s so guarded all the time. I have a feeling it has to do with the way I treated her at first. It’s true I won’t get the chance to make a new first impression, but I have no idea how to prove to her I’m not the guy I was at first.

  Maybe because I am that guy. Maybe I actually need to change before she can see me differently.

  I think about what that might entail.

  Being honest with my friends—my business partners.

  Thanking my brother for his help over the years rather than expecting yet another handout.

  Treating women better in general instead of leading them on or using them to get what I need, whether that’s a new contract for the company or a night of fun.