Kiss Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 1)

by S. M. Soto

  For a second, I don’t think he’s there, and I start to deflate. My thoughts run awry as I try to think of where he could be. He left with Dan after dropping me off last night. Did he go somewhere with the rest of the guys?

  I perk up when I hear heavy footfalls, and the door is suddenly opened, revealing a shirtless Baz, dressed only in a pair of luxurious looking drawstring pants. I can clearly see the imprint of his cock, and Jesus Christ, I’m back to square one all over again.

  Quickly darting my gaze up to his, I clear my throat, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear.

  “Morning.” I rock on my feet anxiously when he doesn’t say anything. My heart is hammering in fear. Maybe last night really was the last straw. He has the pick of the litter; he doesn’t have to deal with my nonsense. “Thought I’d bring this back. Thank you again for yesterday.” I hold out the dress from last night, but he doesn’t take it. He just cocks his head to the side, watching me.

  I heave a tired sigh. “Baz, please. I really am sorry about last night—”

  “You still haven’t brought your stuff up.”

  My brows slowly inch higher. “My stuff? Wait—what?”

  “Was last night your answer?”

  My eyes slowly widen with understanding. “No! God, no. I was just giving you space last night. Everything got so messed up. I didn’t want you to be angry with me, but it felt like you were.”

  Baz sighs. He glances up at the ceiling for what I assume is strength and jerks his head over his shoulder. “Come on. There’s breakfast.”

  Out on the balcony, the sun shines brightly. Beacons of light pour over the table and the spread of food. It smells heavenly, and on cue, my stomach growls embarrassingly loud.

  I cough into my fist, trying to drown out the noise. “Expecting company?”

  He takes the seat across from me, sliding a mug of freshly brewed coffee toward me. “Nope.”

  Bastard.

  We enjoy our meal in a relatively comfortable silence, looking out at the view of the hills. The sun shines on his golden skin, and when our eyes meet, it’s easier to make out the green flecks in his eyes. It’s a blend of beautiful colors fit for a beautiful man.

  “So,” I say, placing my now empty mug on the table. “Should we talk now?”

  Baz nods slowly, almost thoughtfully, moving his gaze toward the sunny hills. “I probably should’ve warned you about the guys. They can be … protective.”

  I mull that over. “Have they always been that way? I mean, I get it. I can be protective of the girls, too, but to what extent?”

  Baz laughs, but it’s without humor. “The guys don’t have limits. They take things too far, and more often than not, I’m left to clean up the mess.” My eyes shoot toward him at the admission.

  What does that mean?

  “Bringing a woman into the mix is always frightening for them. It’s why the bachelor lifestyle works for all of us. We don’t have to worry about a woman changing the dynamic of our friendship. It’s been the five of us for as long as I can remember. We’ve always had each other’s backs and bringing you to the gala was—”

  “It was like I was stepping in on their territory, wasn’t it?” I sigh, shaking my head. “That definitely explains why they all felt the need to belittle me last night.” Baz’s lips thin at the news. Obviously, the idea of me being hounded by the guys doesn’t sit well with him.

  Reaching across the table, I take his hand in mine, diverting his attention from the scenery to me.

  “Look, Baz, the last thing I want to do is cause rifts between you and your friends. There’s no telling what this”—I gesture between us—“is, but while I’m here, I do want to see where it goes. So if that means I need to prove to your friends that I’m not a threat, I’ll do it. What about dinner? Or we can pop in at the club?”

  A frown mars his face at the suggestion. “They’re not going to like it, but if you’re comfortable being around any of them again, especially Trent, I can … I’ll see what I can do.”

  I smile in victory, popping a kiss on his cheek. I finish off most of the fresh fruit on my plate, turning back to gaze at the hills. Baz wasn’t lying when he said the guys wouldn’t be happy about me inserting myself into their lives, but after the way they tried to bully me last night, they have it coming. I’ll play the part of the sweet “girlfriend,” but what they won’t know is I’ll be there to take them down. No matter what the cost.

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth. Dread takes root in my belly as I try to process why he’d say this. Slowly, I lower the strawberry, the fork clanging against the plate as I turn toward Baz, the color slowly draining from my face.

  “How did you …?” I can’t even finish the sentence. I’m thrown for a loop because this is exactly what I’ve tried to steer clear of. Baz remembering me. My two lives colliding.

  Mackenzie and Scarlett.

  The real me and the false prophet.

  “At the gala, I heard you talking to Ava.”

  Tightness grips my chest when I hear her name. I still don’t want to dwell on the fact that I’ll probably never see her again. She was a little slice of heaven while I was dealing with the assholes from the Sixth Circle of Hell.

  I replay the conversation I had with her last night in my head, and I silently curse myself for spilling parts of my real life. He heard. There’s no denying it now. Now, it’s just the waiting game to see if he’ll put the pieces of the puzzle together.

  I swallow and work to keep the tremble in my tone steady. Just the thought of speaking about Madison with Baz feels wrong, but in a way, it also feels right to share this part of my life with him. I’ll just need to bend the truth a little.

  “That friend I was telling you about?” He searches my face in silence, waiting for me to go on. “I was really talking about my sister. I don’t know why I didn’t just say it. Maybe it’s because I try not to think of her very often, but that’s impossible. She’s everywhere. Even when I wish she wasn’t.” Baz’s eyes soften, and my own start to sting. It’s not even for show. Every time I say her name out loud, it takes me back. It brings me back to the pain her death brought our family. “We were twins,” I whisper, my throat tightening with emotion. “She was always so … beautiful and extraordinary, and compared to her, I was always second best. It was always a competition with her. She had everything on me, and she knew it; yet, it was like she always had to push harder. Leave me in the dust just to show me what I was worth.” A tear glides down my cheek, and I swipe it away angrily, hating that after nine fucking years, I still can’t seem to hold it together when it comes to Madison.

  There were times I wanted to hate her—hell, there’s a small, minute, part of me that still does. After everything she put me through, after the way she treated me from the moment we entered high school, I should despise my twin sister. I should’ve said good riddance after her death and went on to live an extraordinary life. But the bigger part of me that loves her won’t let that happen. I love Madison, despite all the bad.

  “Mackenzie, you don’t have to finish. I get it.” The understanding on his face makes me shake my head because he doesn’t get it. Even though we hated each other, I still loved my sister with my entire heart, and without her here, I’ve been fading. I’ve been dying without my other half.

  “Even though we fought like hell, she was still … everything I wasn’t. I looked up to her. She was the beautiful version of myself I wished I could one day grow into. The night she died, we fought.” I laugh without humor, sniffling. “We always fought, though, so that wasn’t really a surprise. But … I keep thinking, maybe if I’d done something different, then maybe she’d still be here. Maybe she would’ve had the opportunity to live her life much better than I’ve lived mine.”

  Baz drags my chair toward him, leaning into me so our gazes are level. With a gentle touch that is so unlike him, he swipes the tears off my cheeks. We stare at
each other. Me, my eyes glimmering with tears and him, looking gentle and well put together. My heart starts to grow angry because even though he’s wiping away my tears, his friends and possibly even him had a hand in Madison’s death. Had a hand in taking her from me.

  I grind my teeth together, fire suddenly soaring through my veins. “But she’ll never get to do that. She’ll never get to live the life she was always meant to because someone thought they could play God. Someone took it upon themselves to take her from me. To ruin my family. And the real kicker is I still don’t understand why. All these years later, I still don’t have the answers I need.”

  Baz’s expression clouds with anger. “You mean they never caught the son of a bitch? Wasn’t it a boyfriend, the one she was dating?”

  And this is where it gets tricky. Because I said my best friend had moved and her boyfriend there had hurt her. How the hell do I possibly connect both stories without jogging his memory?

  “My sister was angry when we had to move. She had to leave her friends and her boyfriend behind. Sometimes, she wouldn’t tell anyone when she’d go back to visit. And one night, she just never came back. They found her body a few days later. He had an alibi, so it could’ve been someone else. It might’ve been.”

  “But you don’t believe that.”

  I glance back at him. “No. I don’t. He has everyone else fooled. Everyone but me.”

  Baz rakes his fingers through his hair and blows out a sharp sigh. “I’m sorry, Mackenzie. I had no idea.”

  I sniff back the pressure in my nose and force a smile. I squeeze his hand that’s still covering mine. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to get so heavy, but … I’m also really glad you know. I’ve never told anyone that.”

  Surprise flashes over his features. “No one?”

  I shake my head. “Her death was the reason I left California. Our family was never the same again, and I just needed a fresh start. One where I wasn’t shrouded in memories of her death. None of the friends I made on the East Coast knew anything real about me. Everything about me has been a lie. And now”—I blow out a sharp breath—“you know why.”

  “Do you ever regret leaving?”

  I purse my lips, mulling it over. “Sometimes. But I don’t think I would’ve survived had I not. I was in a dark place. I don’t think people realize just how connected twins are. Not having her there when I needed her was … torture. Absolute torture.”

  “Starting over like that takes a lot of courage.”

  “Or cowardice,” I mumble.

  He grows serious. “Don’t do that. Don’t belittle yourself or your decisions. You’re strong, despite whatever you may think of yourself.”

  My chin wobbles. “You really think so?”

  Baz smiles. The small dimple on the left side of his face makes an appearance, causing my stomach to dip with a floating sensation. His dimple is a rare sight, maybe because he rarely shares a smile like this, and when he does? It has this beguiling effect on me, nearly stealing the very breath from my lungs.

  “The second you stumbled into The Den, when there were signs specifically stating it was closed to the public, I knew you were different. So yeah, I really think that. Now, come on. You up for a swim?”

  My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I roll my lips together, nodding. I watch Baz rise from the lounger, heading inside, and as I watch him go, something warm curls inside my chest and around my heart. It’s at war with the deep pit in my gut. What I feel for Baz isn’t safe for either of us. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Because no matter what I feel for him, I’ll never stop trying to get justice for Madison.

  I can only hope when all is said and done, my heart will survive the wreckage.

  Past

  I shift upright on my bed, my brows pulling down into a frown when I hear the silent sobbing in the room next door. Trapping my bottom lip between my teeth, I contemplate going to check on her, but if I know anything about my sister, it’s that she likes her privacy. The last thing she wants for me to see is her crying.

  Blowing out a haggard sigh, I get off the bed anyway. A glance at the clock on my nightstand tells me it’s past midnight. I didn’t even hear her sneak back in. Madison’s a master at slipping in and out of the house without waking our parents and, obviously, without waking me, too.

  I pause in front of her bedroom door, trying to summon the courage to push inside. With a soft rap of my knuckles, so as to not wake my parents, I tiptoe inside, finding Madison lying on her bed, face-first into her pillow, sobbing.

  My feet freeze, and I suddenly wonder if this was a good idea after all. I don’t know how to comfort anyone, so what the hell am I doing?

  My parents aren’t the most expressive when it comes to showing affection. We’re not a family that hugs it out or shares air kisses or anything of the sort. My dad has always been too closed off for that. I think the lack of affection transferred to Mads and me, making us incapable of showing our affection physically.

  A tightness settles in my chest, constricting with each inhale as I eat up the distance between us. Ever so gently, I perch on the edge of her bed and tentatively place my hand on her heaving back. Her sobbing ceases, and her entire body goes rigid beneath my touch.

  “You okay, Mads?”

  Within seconds, she rolls around to face me, a glare painted across her beautiful face.

  “What the fuck do you care?” she snaps.

  “Of course, I do. I hate hearing you—”

  Madison slaps my hand away from her as though my touch disgusts her. “Don’t touch me and leave me the fuck alone. The last person I want to see right now is you.”

  A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes burn with an onslaught of emotion. I open my mouth, but wisely shut it, unsure of what to say. With a sad sigh, I push upright and slip out of her bedroom as quietly as I came in.

  Instead of going back to my room, I go downstairs. I fiddle with objects in the cabinet, pulling out flour and sugar. I grab two mugs and start measuring the ingredients in each cup, mixing and perfecting as I go.

  One at a time, I cook the cake mixture in the microwave, and when both mug cakes are made, I clean up the mess and head back upstairs. Summoning an ounce of courage I surely don’t have, I suck in a deep breath and quietly push back into the bedroom. Madison’s murderous gaze swings to mine, and I can see the anger coloring her cheeks.

  I hold out the mug toward her. “Mug cakes always make me feel better. Here.”

  Maddie’s lips thin into a grim line. “Do you really think a mug cake is going to fix my fucking problems? The last thing I want is to end up fat and boring like you. Maybe try going for a run instead of turning to food to solve your fucking problems,” she snaps. Madison whirls, giving her back to me.

  I sniff past the pressure in my nose and ignore my quivering chin. Gently, I place the mug on her desk and slowly turn on my heels, leaving her alone. Just as I grip the knob, her voice halts me.

  “Why are you always so nice to me even when I’m a bitch to you?” She sounds confused as if she honestly can’t comprehend why I’d care about her.

  I pause over the threshold and grip the doorframe. Tossing her a sad smile over my shoulder, I say, “Because I love you. And that’s what sisters do.”

  I tiptoe back into my room and nestle under the covers. I dig into my cake, and with every bite I take, I hate myself. I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I didn’t always turn to food for comfort or to solve my problems.

  When I’m done, I lie on my side, staring out the window at the moon hanging above the stars. The sound of my door creaking on its hinges has me shifting. Surprise colors my face when I spot Madison creeping in, carrying the mug cake I made her. Without a word, I scoot over, making room for her. She climbs on the bed beside me, staring up at the ceiling, looking thoughtful.

  “I know I don’t act like it, but I love you, too, Mack. Always.”

  Tears trickle down my cheeks at the memory. The cool dirt seeps into
my jeans, but I make no move to get up and leave. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been sitting out here. We laid my sister to rest two days ago, and even though she’s gone, well and truly gone, I still feel her. She’s everywhere. She’s in my head, consuming my thoughts. In the air filling my lungs and the blood pumping through my heart. She’s in the brisk wind and the constant rain that won’t seem to let up.

  Drawn to her gravesite, I arrived here earlier this morning, and I haven’t gotten up, not once. I tip my head back, glancing up at the darkening sky, and I blow out a harsh breath. I should probably go now. I know my mom and dad will worry, or maybe they won’t. I went back home after the funeral. My parents seemed somewhat more open to having me around. Grandma and Grandpa made it clear if I ever needed a break, I could always stay with them. And maybe I will.

  My parents are zombies, just barely going through the motions of day-to-day life. They hardly speak to each other. They hardly even look at me. The house has been so silent, you can hear everything. I hear my mother sobbing. I hear them whisper-shout at each other. The sound of the grandfather clock ticking downstairs.

  We haven’t spoken. Not about Madison, not about the assholes in town, not about anything at all.

  The only place I truly feel content and welcome is here with Mads. It’s strange, the comfort I get from just sitting in front of where she’s laid to rest. She listens to me cry over her, and she listens to my fears and the anger that reside in me, but she never says anything. Not that I expect her to.

  Pushing off a portion of the damp grass, I wipe a few stray blades and dirt off my backside and sling my backpack over my shoulder. My Converse crunch through the blades as I weave through the dead. A tremor rolls down my spine as I walk through the cemetery toward the exit. I’m used to it by now, though.

  My stomach growls violently as I make my way downtown, past shops closing for the evening. I pause in front of the bakery, the only one still open, and decide to get something to eat. It’s not like we’ll have anything at home. I think my parents have been surviving off coffee and their tears.