Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1

by Magnolia Smith

  “Have you asked yourself why that boy has returned to you?”

  “He’s not that boy, Dad. His name is Kael. Kael Brady. Maybe you’ll meet him one day.

  “You don’t want me to meet up with him.” He frowned. “I might just knock him upside his head. I remember how hurt you were. You know I didn’t agree with that cooking school nonsense, but you were going to Europe. I was happy that you were going. Everyone should go to Europe at least once in his or her life.” His gaze upon me softened. “I was hoping once you returned from your trip you’d get this business out of your head.” But then his countenance changed. “So why is the boy here, after all this time? Have you asked him?”

  My cheeks burned in shame. “He said he was here for me.”

  He sipped his tea and slammed the glass down on the table. “That boy is a damned liar. Don’t you believe a word that comes out of his mouth.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kael and I stood in front of a tall glass case. There was a long, heavy silence before I spoke.

  “I can’t take your check.”

  He stepped closer to the glass case and peered at the Egyptian sarcophagus. “That’s why you wanted to see me?” He sighed. He didn’t turn to look at me. “Why not?”

  “It’s too much.” I couldn’t look at him. “Besides, it would only complicate matters. We haven’t worked out the issues of our relationship yet.”

  Then he looked at me. “What issues?” He sounded genuinely puzzled. “You made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “When the hell did I do that?”

  His face blanked and he turned, moved to the next exhibit.

  I followed him, my eyes focusing on a miniature Egyptian barge complete with stone figures with oars. “I don’t know if I can do this again.” He got a stony look in his eye, which I chose to ignore. “After Jamaica, I thought we had something. It almost destroyed me to find out I was wrong.”

  He looked away. “It was bad timing at first.”

  Ah, that explained everything. “But you never told me that.” My voice rose slightly.

  An usher in a monogrammed blue polo looked at me with a stern expression and I lowered my voice to a whisper.

  “You never told me it was bad timing for us. I left Jamaica with the distinct impression that we would pursue a relationship immediately after. You never told me different.”

  “Yes, we lost touch for a while.” He looked at me. “But I contacted you as soon as I was able.”

  I turned away from him. “Six months later.”

  “Yes, six months later.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me close.

  “Jamaica was wonderful but it wasn’t the beginning of anything.” I rolled my eyes and looked away.

  He looked mystified. “What was it then?”

  I pulled away from him, not caring who saw me. “Kael, you are full of shit.” I stalked away, escaped into the Greco-Roman room.

  He stood in the center of the museum staring after me and then finally followed. He stood behind me as I pondered a statue of Hercules. “It’s not like you to make a scene.”

  I whirled around. “How do you know? You don’t even know me.”

  He stepped back. “So now we don’t know each other?”

  This day had taken a tragic turn for the worst.

  I couldn’t understand Rain’s attitude. She was so angry, so bitter. Had I really been that horrible? Yes, six months had passed before I had written her, but I did reach out. I’d poured out my heart to her in each and every letter. I asked, no begged her to wait for me, to wait for us. I promised her the freaking stars and moons if she’d just wait for me.

  And she hadn’t responded. Hadn’t even had the decency to say, “Thanks but no thanks.” I wasn’t angry or bitter. Why was she?

  I watched as she moved restlessly around the dimly-lit room, reading the various plaques beside white marble statues and busts illuminated by recessed lighting. She was so beautiful, especially with her hair a mass of silky, soft springy curls floating past her shoulders.

  What could I possibly say to make her feel better? To fix this? She’d been the one to reject me. Shouldn’t I be the angry one? I was here, after all this time even when she’d refused to wait.

  She glanced cautiously over her shoulder and looked at me, as if she wondered if I’d still be here. That was kind of insulting.

  I clearly remembered last night, and she still responded to my touch. Still had feelings for me. So why the pushback?

  I approached her slowly, enjoying the way her body looked in a gauzy lime dress that landed mid-thigh. When I was directly behind her, I gently tapped her on her shoulder and she jumped before turning around.

  With her arms wrapped tightly around her chest and her face pinched, it was clear she was still something.

  I exhaled. “Maybe we should leave. I don’t really see us enjoying the exhibits anymore.”

  She followed me silently out of the museum.

  A moment later, we were in my black Ford F-150 pickup truck. My hands were on the keys of the ignition but I couldn’t start the engine just yet.

  We needed to talk. I’d imagined our reunion going several different ways, but never like this. There had to be something I could say or do to crumble the walls Rain had put up.

  I turned to look at her, not sure what to say. “I have very fond memories of us, Rain. You are extremely close to destroying them.”

  The taut lines of her face dissolved into slack-jawed disbelief. “Mine have already been destroyed. How do you think I felt when I realized that you were never going to call? Never going to email me or write me?”

  “I did write you, Rain.”

  Why was she so completely dismissing the letters I wrote her? Then it came to me. She was probably with another guy at that time. That’s the only thing that made sense.

  I tried to keep the edge out of my voice. “Is this about some other guy you were dating? You could’ve told me that. You could’ve been honest with me.”

  She looked at me and just laughed. And not a ha ha-funny laugh either.

  That had to be it. She was dating somebody, didn’t want to tell me and just didn’t have the decency to even respond to my letter to let me know that she wanted nothing to do with me.

  My hands gripped the wheel. She could’ve told me that—would’ve saved me months of wondering. I couldn’t look at her now. Now I felt stupid for even being here.

  I tried to keep the heat out of my voice, but it was hard. It hurt. “I know you’ve had other relationships.”

  She shrugged dismissively. “I’ve dated off and on. Nothing serious.”

  She was killing me right now. Probably didn’t know, probably didn’t care. It wouldn’t hurt to spread some pain around, see if she cared anything about me.

  I’d been with other women in the past two years, had coffee, lunch, dinner, drinks… Okay, I’d had a few Dom sessions with women. Suspended them by ropes, flogged their bags, paddled their asses, applied clamps to their nipples, inserted things inside of them when they begged me. But I hadn’t fucked them. Not a one. I’d get them off and then I’d service myself.

  I hadn’t been with another woman. I’d been fucking saving myself for her, even if she didn’t know. Even if she didn’t care. And now that I was face to face with her…she just hadn’t cared to respond? Pain sliced through my chest and I wanted her to feel my pain.

  I looked at her. “I was in a relationship when I met you.” That was not completely true. I wouldn’t call what I had with Zelie a relationship, but it was something. And if she cared anything for me, it should hurt.

  A thick heavy silence enveloped us both. My eyes stung, so I looked away before he could see a tear slide down my face. But he’d said it. The awful truth. He had been cheating on his woman the whole time they’d been together.
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  Nausea roiled in the pit of my stomach and I wanted to bend over and ruin the floor of his shiny, brand new, new-car smelling truck. But I didn’t.

  “The relationship had already come to its natural conclusion, we just hadn’t technically ended things.” His voice was flat now. I’d never heard it quite so cold before.

  I kept my face turned away so he couldn’t see the tears. They wouldn’t stop flowing and if I wiped them away, he’d know I was crying. Instead, I stared out of the passenger side window.

  “So, you met me, made me feel like I was the only girl in the world, and then decided that you wanted to work things out with your girlfriend? That’s why I never heard from you?”

  He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t have the courage to turn and look at him. I thought my heart might burst. The pressure over my chest was immense. The lump in my throat huge. I could barely speak. The words came out in a hoarse whisper.

  “I was a vacation fling, nothing more. You thought I’d actually be fine with waiting for you after you did your disappearing act. Could you be more arrogant?”

  I had sunglasses in my purse. Quickly as I could, I wiped the tears from my face and put my sunglasses on.

  “Don’t cheapen it, Rain. It wasn’t a fling.”

  I turned to look at him then. His voice sounded harsh and his eyes turned to slate. I had no clue what he was thinking.

  He turned the key in the ignition and the truck roared to life. “Where to?”

  “What was her name?”

  “What?”

  “Your girlfriend.”

  He looked forward as he expertly maneuvered out of the parking lot. “Is this really necessary?”

  “Yes, actually, it is.”

  “Her name is Zelie Chang. I met her in Paris three years ago. She works for her country’s French embassy.”

  “Who ended the relationship?”

  He turned out of the museum and onto Blue Ridge Road. “I did.”

  We drove in silence for several miles. Then he looked at me, bewildered. “I explained everything to you in my letter. How could you not respond? Boyfriend or no, how could you not at least respond?”

  “I tore your letter up, unopened.”

  He shook his head. “And the second one?”

  I just looked at him.

  “And the third one?”

  There was a metallic taste in my mouth. “There was only one letter,” I spit out.

  “I sent you seven.” He swerved onto the shoulder of the highway and placed the truck into park. He turned to me, his eyes more intense than I’d ever seen them. “I sent you seven letters.”

  I guess I looked unmoved, so he repeated himself. “Seven long-ass, handwritten letters explaining everything to you, telling you how I felt about you, how I wanted to have a future with you.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “You’re telling me that you were so heartless, or angry or bitter or whatever you were feeling, that you could tear up seven letters from me without reading even one?”

  All I could do was shake my head. “You’re lying. There was only one letter.”

  The image of me and Charlotte literally dancing over the burning letter in a trashcan was still vivid in my mind. The experience had been cathartic and what I needed to finally move on.

  “One measly little letter from you. That was it. I never heard from you again.”

  I blinked back tears. “After a while, I thought I’d dreamed you up. Only Charlotte could confirm that you were real because she’d actually seen you in Jamaica, saw the one letter you mailed me. She kept me strong, when I thought I would…”

  I stopped then. I could not, would not let him know how hurt I’d been by his lies, how crushed I was by his disappearing act. “I was… disappointed.”

  The hollow feeling that had carved a place in my chest, the irrational heat of anger, the coldness of despair, it all washed over me just then and I felt like slapping him, backhanding him, anything to make him feel my pain. My hand trembled, itched to hit something.

  He seemed to read my expression correctly, a slight smile cracking the somberness of his face. “Don’t.”

  He stared at me, the appearance of levity gone as quickly as it appeared. Expression unreadable, he jerked the gear stick into drive and moved back onto the highway. His jaw was set and his eyes hard. Fists clenched the wheel as he raced down the highway.

  I held on to the seat arm as he accelerated. I was the one that should be pissed but he suddenly seemed very angry. “Are you okay?”

  “I sent you seven letters, Rain.”

  I shook my head, weary of his lies. Why wouldn’t he just stop?

  He didn’t look at me as he drove. “I’ve never been able to stop thinking about you, Rain. I’ve had so many questions, like what happened? What could have been?” He exhaled loudly. “Why didn’t you respond? Why didn’t you wait for me?”

  “You ask these questions like you had no say in how events were played out.” I glared at him. “I don’t understand you at all.”

  “I’m flying to DC in the morning. I had hoped I would be leaving on better terms. Spend the night with me. Please.”

  Did he really think he could just pick up where he left off? Like we had just left Jamaica? I hadn’t been good enough for him then. But now I was?

  “Weren’t you enough of a bastard the last time?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I want to do things right this time. Now is our chance.” He looked at me, his face bright with hope. “Now is the best time for us to try and make this work.”

  “No.” I choked back a sob. He would not see me cry, no matter how hard he tried.

  “Rain, I don’t care what’s going on in your life, or who you’re with, I want us to reclaim what we had in Jamaica and give this a try.”

  “Arrogance. Arrogance fairly drips from your pores, you know that?” I pointed my finger at him. “This is precisely what happened last time.”

  I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head, so he could see my eyes. I wanted him to see the pain and the anger that lived there.

  “With absolutely no regard for my life, my dreams, my goals I latched on to you and all of your lies with the hope that we could have something awesome.” I stopped for a moment as tears poured down my face.

  My voice was shaky, but I had to continue. He had to know what he’d done to me. I’d never had a chance to tell him. Yes, yoga and running half-marathons was therapeutic, but finally being able to yell at the guy who’d hurt you was so much better. My palm itched to slap his beautiful face.

  I wanted him to hurt, hurt just like I had, like I still did, damn it. The pain was fresh and stinging as if we’d just parted.

  “I screwed up my whole way of thinking, began to doubt my decisions. Changed all of my plans because of you.”

  I could see the slow rising of his chest. Hadn’t he heard anything I’d said? Hadn’t anything touched him? He sat there emotionless as a block of ice, just looking at me.

  “Please take me back to the coffee shop.” I’d left my car at The Coffee Grind, so Kael and I wouldn’t have to run into Charlotte and her disapproval. Or her I told you so, which would be deserved, considering.

  “No,” he finally said in a low voice.

  “No?” I said, my voice rising again. “Didn’t you hear anything I said? I don’t want to see you. I don’t want—”

  He reached for me then. He actually grabbed my arm and yanked me toward him. And then his other hand went behind my head and he pressed me to him, his lips finding mine. I struggled to keep my mouth shut but the sensations flooded back. The smooth touch of skin, his masculine scent. Electricity ran up and down my spine, and I tried to recall the hurt, the pain, everything that had kept me strong since he disappeared.

  But all I could feel was the delicious sensation of f
alling, of drowning. I wanted the feeling to deepen, to intensify. I wanted him to push my head under, have me gasping for air and begging for more.

  I wrapped my arms around his massive shoulders, just wanting to cling to him, hold him if only for a moment. Then his lips parted mine and my head swam.

  I kissed him back. Despite everything. It felt like heaven. And sin. His kiss was a poison that dripped, flowed then poured through my veins. It hurt. It stung. It reached my heart and made it ache. I wanted more.

  I felt the edge of his teeth graze and then tug at my lips and another tear fell down my check. I’d missed him so much. Where had he been? Why was he gone for so long?

  His fingers curled into my hair, driving me closer. I allowed myself to melt into him for a moment longer before sanity reared its ugly head.

  Shaking the fairy dust from my head, I pushed against his chest, my voice barely a whisper. “Stop. Please, just stop.”

  I felt spent. Emotionally drained. Two years of pain, anger and frustration painfully, violently sucked out of me. He acquiesced and gently let me go.

  I collapsed against the seat and closed my eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I hadn’t meant to kiss her. Not like that…roughly, out of frustration and raw need for her. But I could only take so much. She was beautiful, especially when she was mad. Normally calm and restrained, her anger, her passion for me—albeit good or bad—was a turn on.

  And it let me know, despite how she acted or what she said, she still had feelings for me. That meant there was hope.

  But I still had questions. Something didn’t feel right, and I always trusted my gut.

  I shifted the car into drive and turned toward the coffee shop. My mind was working, making connections. Nothing made sense. Our time together in Jamaica, her lack of response then and her anger now.

  She’d kissed me back eventually. That was another good sign. I gave her a sideways glance and grinned. She looked wilted, like a pretty flower on a too hot day.

  Something still jiggled in my belly. Unanswered questions. “Tell me something, how soon after Jamaica did you start dating?”