Little White Lies

by Lizzie Shane

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s different.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted, not sure what she was getting at.

  She sighed, frustrated that he didn’t seem to quite understand what she meant. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Keep believing in the good in people after a lifetime of everyone wanting to use you. You make it look so easy.”

  “It isn’t easy. Seeing the best in people, keeping your rose-colored glasses on when sometimes it feels like the whole world is trying to rip them off—that’s the hardest thing in the world. You just try to do it anyway. Take your little victories where you can.”

  She sighed. “How are you so well-adjusted? How did you turn out so well when I’m such a mess?”

  “First off, you aren’t a mess.” She rolled her eyes, but he let that one go for now. “Secondly, I had a great foundation.” He traced another lazy pattern along her spine. “My parents somehow managed to keep the fame zoo outside when I was small. It never touched us. I was always secure in the knowledge that I was loved—and that my parents loved one another and everything was going to be okay.”

  “But they died when you were so young. Everything wasn’t okay.”

  “I know and it was horrible, but in a way I was insulated even from that.” The pattern reversed, traveling up her back now. “I was supposed to be in the car with them, did you know that? My mother liked to bring me along to my father’s gigs so I could hear him sing, but I had a cold that night. A few sniffles. So I wasn’t in the backseat when the paparazzi chased them after the show. I’ve always wondered if my parents would still be alive if I had been. If my father would have driven more carefully. If he wouldn’t have driven at all. If the chase wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand.”

  He’d never admitted that to anyone—the way he couldn’t help wondering if his parents would be alive if he hadn’t sneezed. His father never drove high with him in the car.

  “I’m glad you weren’t in the car,” Candy whispered.

  “Me too. But it’s hard not to wonder. You can kill yourself with what ifs. What if it hadn’t been one of the five days it rained in LA that year? What if the roads hadn’t been slick? What if he hadn’t taken such a twisty road to try to evade the paps?”

  “You were so little. How did you find out what had happened?”

  “Uncle Javi. My grandparents flew in, but they were living in Miami at the time. It was Uncle Javi who had to identify the bodies and had to come wake me up and tell me what had happened.”

  Candy breathed out a curse against his skin.

  “I think he’s a big part of why I wasn’t more traumatized. He held me on his lap and told me my parents were angels in heaven, but I was going to be okay because he loved me and Poppy and Abuela loved me and they were never going to let anything happen to me. He stayed with me until my grandparents arrived and we grieved together.”

  “No wonder you can never say no to him.”

  He stopped tracing. “I say no to him plenty. But he’s my family. And nothing he can do will ever change that.” He studied the moonlight on the wall, seeing old memories there. “He was just as crushed as anyone. My father was his best friend and I’m not sure they were on good terms when he died. But Javi still protected me every way he knew how. I remember the one time I saw him lose his cool—he punched a reporter. Some asshole who tried to show me a picture of the wreck—”

  “Jesus.”

  “I was too small to understand what I was looking at. My grandparents and Javi had kept me so insulated I didn’t recognize the metal pancake that had once been my dad’s car. But Javi lost his shit. Put the asshole in the hospital—and nearly went to jail for assault, but he told me he’d do it again for me. He was my champion and because he was there, I never felt like I wasn’t safe.”

  He flattened his palm over her back, running it down to her hip, but she shifted beneath his hand uneasily.

  “I never felt safe. After.” Candy’s words were uneven. Jerky. “Everyone was so relieved that I was back, that nothing had happened to me, but all I could think was that it wasn’t nothing. They acted like because I hadn’t been raped or mutilated, everything was okay, but I was missing for four days and I was so angry at the people who were supposed to protect me. I wanted to scream and scream. What took them so long?”

  He wrapped both arms around her, holding her close, and Candy burrowed closer, like she couldn’t get warm.

  “Then I heard the staff talking—there was one of the kidnappers who would whisper to me in English, tell me my parents didn’t love me, that they weren’t coming for me, that they were bartering for me, trying to get a better price. I tried not to believe it—they’d gotten me out, he must have lied—but it had been four days. And then I heard the staff. Things I wasn’t supposed to hear, but Scott knew. He’d heard it all too. How they’d tried to negotiate down the price for me. How my parents refused to pay for our nanny’s daughter, who had been taken with me. How they’d lied. To all of us. How do you trust someone after that?”

  “Jesus,” Ren whispered.

  “Yep. No wonder I’m so fucked up, right?”

  He rolled her over until she was tucked beneath him, his body keeping her warm as he cradled her face between his hands. “We’re all fucked up. You’re a fighter. And the strongest woman I know.”

  He kissed her before she could argue with him and she kissed him back, hungry, with an edge of desperation that made him feel a little uneasy, like she was smothering her emotions in sex, but he couldn’t deny her. If this was what she needed, he would give it to her. Anything Candy needed.

  *

  Candy arched against him, drowning in him, the warmth and heat and rush of Ren. She drew her knees up on either side of his hips, urging him on with every touch and whisper until he sank into her and she closed her eyes, clinging to his shoulders, gasping at the fullness, feeling the pressure of impending climax in every inch of her body, but especially in her chest where her heart seemed to clench tight around a knot of sensation she couldn’t quite let go, no matter how she reached for it as he murmured darkly into her ear and reached between their bodies, touching her—

  “Oh, God, oh, Ren, yes.” Her orgasm ripped over her, tearing loose the moorings of her soul and setting her flying… but that little knot remained, tight and tense as he followed her over the edge, groaning his own grateful curse as his muscles went rigid and he jerked against her.

  She stroked down the sweat-slick line of his back, thankful for his weight pressing into her, not ready for him to disengage and move away. Until the reminder that she was a responsible adult reared its ugly head.

  They hadn’t used anything. Not now and not earlier.

  Stupid. So stupid. She had an IUD, but they knew better.

  “Have you been tested since Jessica?” She didn’t want to think of him with anyone else, saying the words out loud almost choked her, but if she was grown up enough to sleep with him she was grown up enough to talk about it.

  “Clean,” he grunted, rolling off her, and at least he didn’t bitch about her ruining the afterglow. “And I was never unprotected with her. Never with anyone but you.”

  He didn’t say he hadn’t slept with Jessica. Just that they’d used protection. Well, what had she expected? They’d been dating for months. The woman was making him dinner. Feeding his freaking dog. Of course, she’d slept over.

  “What about you?” he asked as she slipped out of bed to go wash up.

  “Clean,” she echoed, before shutting the bathroom door. She didn’t need to tell him that she hadn’t been with anyone since him. That the idea of a one night stand with anyone else had lost all its appeal.

  At least she could take comfort that she was the only one with whom he’d ever gotten tested and moved from condoms to birth control. That was something, right? Romance in the twenty-first century.

  She was also the only one, besides Max, who knew the truth about his pa
st. Though she’d found that out herself. Would he have told her, if she hadn’t known? He’d said he loved her again tonight—words that hadn’t scared her in the moment, but now made that little knot in her chest ache and her breath come short.

  Casual. She needed to keep things casual. Easy. At a distance. He already saw too much of her.

  Candy stepped out of the bathroom and pulled on one of Ren’s soft T-shirts before climbing back into bed with him. “That was a beautiful song tonight,” she said, light and conversational as she settled into his arms.

  “I thought you might recognize it. First song I ever played for you.”

  She twisted to frown at him. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Sure, it was. It was my birthday. You brought over pizza—”

  “Oh, I remember the first time you played for me, but that wasn’t the song.”

  “Yes, it was. It’s my favorite love song and I’m pretty sure I was trying to get you back into bed after you’d cut me off—”

  “You got me,” she reminded him. That night had felt like a tipping point. Not unlike tonight. When everything shifted and she was scared to think about the morning. “But it was Promises.”

  “No, it was—” He broke off, frowning. “I might have played Promises,” he admitted. “What can I say? My dad wrote so many great love songs for my mother, it’s hard to keep them all straight when I’m trying to seduce you.”

  “Promises isn’t about your mother. It’s about you.”

  “No, it was for her,” Ren insisted. “About how she made him a better man and he promised he would be good enough to deserve her.”

  “Ren, I’ve seen pictures of your mother. She was kind of famous.”

  “So?”

  “The second verse? About trying to deserve the faith he sees in those green eyes? Your mother’s eyes were brown.”

  Pale green eyes blinked at her in confusion and dawning realization. “I’ll be damned. I must’ve sung that song a hundred times and I never thought of that.” He met her gaze, something unreadable glittering in his. “Thank you.”

  She linked their fingers together, resting them on his chest. “Any time.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A little over a year ago…

  “Pretty Boy looks happy.”

  Candy looked up, alarmed by Max’s calm observation, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. “Does he?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as pinched to her boss as it did to her own ears.

  Ren stood across the wide stone patio, discussing security specs with Tank for the celebrity wedding-of-the-century they were working next weekend. He gestured while he spoke, not smiling any more than ever, but he did look happy. And Candy felt inexplicably guilty for that fact. Like she was somehow leading him on even though she’d been clear from the beginning that she still wasn’t marriage material.

  Everything felt different this time. But then, of course it would. They were friends now, genuine friends-with-benefits rather than the fuck-buddies or co-conspirators in a secret workplace affair they’d been before. Of course emotion would come into play, but it was the warm, comfortable sensation of friendship. Nothing more.

  She didn’t do more.

  Not that he was pushing for more, but she knew he wanted it. Knew he wanted let’s grab dinner to turn into a date. Knew the little presents he bought her weren’t friendship gifts. Knew friends-with-benefits wasn’t supposed to include hours cuddling on the couch and confiding in one another about every little thing and sleeping over nearly every single night. And she felt like a certifiable bitch whenever she tried to put space between them, fussing at him for being too good to her.

  Then she’d get pissed at him for making her feel like she was doing something wrong when she had never promised him more. She’d pick a fight and shut him down—for a minute or an hour or a day before they were having make-up sex and he was telling her they were good. He didn’t need more. Everything was good. He was content.

  But he wasn’t just content. He was happy. Getting a dog. Dreaming about the white picket fence. And she felt like the worst person in the world because she didn’t want that. But she couldn’t walk away.

  *

  Present day…

  “Looks like somebody got laid last night. Don’t you look smug this morning?”

  Candy was almost relieved Alicia was the first person she ran into the next morning upon descending from the carriage house, even if she was annoyingly cheerful before coffee.

  Not even chirping before caffeinating could ruin her good mood.

  After their midnight talks and Ren dropping the L word again last night, Candy felt surprisingly relaxed this morning. Though that might be the half-dozen orgasms she’d had in the last twelve hours talking. She felt lighter after talking to Ren—which was silly because nothing had really changed. But still she felt different.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked Alicia, tugging her hair into a sloppy ponytail as she walked.

  Her mother had informed her that her presence was required at the rehearsal though she had no idea why since she wasn’t in the wedding, but until then her Friday was her own. Ren was still in the shower, but Candy had descended to track down coffee and investigate the breakfast options. And to find out if there was any pressing reason they couldn’t sneak away for a few hours, just the two of them.

  A nice picnic on the beach sounded like the perfect way to get away from the family drama for a few hours.

  “Charlotte is having brunch with her future motherin-law while Tug sleeps off last night’s excesses.” She smiled archly. “Although you probably didn’t notice how he tied one on, since you and your handsome hubby snuck away so early. Not that I blame you. If a man sang like that to me, I’d be ripping his clothes off with my teeth as soon as humanly possible. Where did you find such a stud?”

  “California.” She kept her tone flat, not inviting further inquiry, and headed toward the terrace where a buffet was usually laid when the family was in residence and the weather was fair. “I think Ren and I are going to sneak off for a few hours today. He hasn’t been to Virginia before and I’d like to show him some of the sights.”

  “From the way you were looking at one another last night, I didn’t think you’d step foot out of your bedroom today. How long did you say you’d been married?”

  “Four years.” Spotting the coffee carafe on the terrace, she started to move past Alicia—who was entirely too good at sniffing out gossip. “Is my mother in the sunroom?”

  “She was headed out to the cottage to check on Aiden and the twins last I saw.” Alicia fell into step beside her, not to be shaken off. “What did Charlotte say your married name was?”

  “Xiao.”

  “Candice Xiao.” Alicia hummed. “Doesn’t quite have the same ring as Lily Xiao, does it?”

  Candy flinched—and then immediately tried to cover it by tripping on the path and cursing her shoes, but Alicia was already crowing.

  “I knew it! I thought I recognized that song and when I Googled it last night, whose name should come up but Lorenzo Tate—a man famous for writing love songs for his wife Lily Xiao. Whose parents raised his only child after he died and whose son would be exactly the age of your husband! God, this is good. How are you keeping this a secret? Do your parents even know?”

  “Alicia, you can’t say anything.” Candy had stopped moving when Alicia started reciting her evidence and now blocked the path.

  The petite brunette blinked innocently. “Why not? Why the big secret?”

  “It’s our life, okay? Ren is a very private person—”

  “With an extremely public past. Besides, it’s not like I would sell the story to the tabloids. I would only tell Charlotte.”

  “You can’t tell her. Please.”

  “Well of course I won’t tell,” Alicia assured her. “We’re friends, aren’t we? But I would feel just horrible lying to Charlotte. Lying to your whole family about the fact that your husband is
the son of one of the most famous rock stars of the last century. That’s big. That’s a secret I could only keep for a very special friend.” Alicia smiled, batting her pretty lashes, the expression making her look even more fragile and guileless.

  And Candy’s stomach dropped. Of course. “What do you want?”

  “I suppose one night with your husband is out of the question?”

  Candy decided Alicia didn’t really need her teeth.

  “A joke! God. Your face. You’d think I asked you to assassinate the Pope.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t find the idea of you blackmailing my husband into bed amusing.”

  Alicia smiled. “Oh, honey, if I want a man in my bed, I don’t have to blackmail him to get him there.”

  Alicia apparently wanted to get her teeth knocked out.

  “Relax.” Alicia pouted. “All I want is a favor. One teensy, little harmless favor among friends.”

  Candy narrowed her eyes. “I’m pretty sure we don’t share the same definition of harmless.”

  “It’s a little nothing,” Alicia assured her, though something serious entered her eyes. “One of my father’s shipments was seized by a foreign government and we need someone with international connections to work a little magic and get that shipment released. Someone like your father.”

  “And you can’t ask him yourself?”

  “Of course I could, but don’t you think it would have more impact coming from you? I really don’t think it’s much to ask. If we’re friends.”

  And what was a little blackmail among friends? Candy huffed out a disgusted breath. “I should have known it would all come down to political favors.”

  “You’ve been away from DC too long, honey.” Alicia smiled. “You have fun today, Mrs. Xiao.”

  She waggled her fingers and sashayed off toward the pool—probably off to go arrange the overthrow of small European nations between tanning sessions.

  Candy’s cell vibrated as she continued up toward the terrace where a continental breakfast had been laid out for the guests. She dug out the phone and absently thumbed open the message as she examined the pastry options. Her stomach was gnawing at her and after the calories they’d burned last night, she had a feeling Ren was going to be in a similar state.