Truth: A Sinful Series, Book One

by Trilina Pucci

  Truth

  The Sinful Series, Book One

  2018 © Trilina Pucci LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including by photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for inclusions or brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Designer—Steamy Designs, Steamydesigns.net

  Formatter—Champagne Book Design

  Editor—Ellie Mclove, www.grayinkonline.com

  Proofreader—oneloveediting.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Part One

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Part Two

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Other Books

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To Anthony, our truth will always be love.

  Intense, unbridled sexual desire often manifesting in perverse, immoral sexual acts.

  It’s said the impurity of lust transforms one into “a slave of the devil”—Henry Edward Manning

  RUNNING MY HANDS OVER THE rectangular glass name placard on my desk, I can’t help but whisper my name, Drew Matthews, VP of Branding and Marketing, as I trace the etching. This was the glass ceiling, the one I ran toward at a million miles per hour until I shattered it at the Cohen Management Team. Damn, just looking at my name makes me bounce in my chair, kicking out my legs and wiggling my arms in silent celebration. I’m not sure I allowed myself to fully process the promotion; I’ve been trying so hard to act like I expected this, to never validate the idea that this really is a dream, a wild, fucking incredible dream come true.

  I worked my ass off for this position and this corner office. I would’ve sold my grandma for this view alone. I definitely traded having any form of a life over the last ten years. When I started at this company right out of college, I knew I was going to have an uphill battle, but I’ve never been the kind of girl to shy away from a challenge. I refused to let anyone ignore my voice or take my success, so I guess they didn’t really have a choice but to give me this damn promotion. I decided it was mine years ago.

  Relaxing back into my cool white leather chair, I throw my legs up onto my mahogany desk and look out at the city view. My view.

  A knock at my door grabs my attention. “Come in.” Pulling my legs from the desk, I sit more formally as the door opens, bringing with it my best friend, Gretchen. She transferred two years ago to start working in marketing and alongside me.

  “Holy shit! Drew, this view…these windows—it’s a whole wall. You have a fucking wall of windows. Damn girl, you did it.” Her happiness is contagious, and I stand, then walk around my desk to hug her. This is exactly why I love my best friend so much: she doesn’t know how to not be proud of me. Squeezing her tight, we turn and look out the windows in silence for a moment.

  “I did it.” My voice is disbelief, not out of a lack of confidence but out of the surreal feeling that has me in its hold. It’s a rare occasion when your dreams come true. I feel shell-shocked but grateful that I dug in and stuck it out. I earned this—every square foot and piece of gold-leaf stationary is deserved—but it wasn’t without help.

  “Gretchen, I’m about to do something else. It’s my first line of business as head of this department. You might want to sit down.” Her head swings so fast, I almost burst out laughing, but keep a serious look on my face. Walking to the desk, I lean my backside against it, motioning for her to have a seat in one of the chairs facing me.

  “If you fire me, I will burn your office down.” She might. She’s a genius, no-nonsense but slightly crazy; it’s part of her charm like her foul mouth and addiction to cat videos.

  “Shut up! I’m not firing you. I want you to be here, in these offices with me. You deserve to be here.” Seeing her face change as the understanding sinks in is priceless. “Your ideas are fresh and inventive, and that’s what badass chicks do…we lift each other up. So, what do you say? Director of Marketing sound good?”

  “Hell yes!” Leaning out from the chair, she high-fives me, and I finally laugh. She rubs her hands conspiratorially. “Now we can go out for a double celebration? You can’t say no, not now. This is the one time we go out and celebrate. I’ll quit if you say no.” Smirking, she leans back into the plush chair, clearly loving her ultimatum.

  “I’m so not saying no! I deserve this. Let’s go all out—it’s Friday after all.”

  “Perfect. Meet later…your place?”

  “Sounds like a plan, G.”

  Walking out, she leaves me to finish getting myself settled into my new office and do some work I can’t neglect. The remainder of the afternoon flies by, and I rush home to get changed to meet Gretchen. This is exactly the night out I need. I’ve been so focused on this goal that my love life is nonexistent. It’s all about balance, I whisper to myself, smiling as I apply my red lip stain.

  After locking my apartment door, I walk down the hall and push out of the doors of my building in Old Town, Chicago. I love this city, and tonight embodies why: the weather is perfect on this June night, even with the humidity; people are buzzing around, amped up for what Friday brings, their laughter finding rhythm with the music wafting down the street from the music venue and mixing with the smells teasing people from the pizza shops. Everything is alive and vibrant.

  I look around for my bestie, who said she’d be here ten minutes ago. I love her, but the girl needs a better watch. Gretchen waves from the end of the block as she walks toward me. Waving back, I start toward her to meet in the middle. As we meet, I hook her arm. “I’m never leaving this neighborhood.”

  “Absolutely, it’s the best.” She motions ahead, and we walk toward a cluster of restaurants and taverns just a block down. “But one day we will be in the suburbs with two kids each, planning playdates.” We both laugh in unison at her statement.

  “Have you met me? I will be in this city with two kids and an assistant who plans my playdates, but for now, it would be great if I could just find a date to play with me.” Grimacing at my own pathetic date life, I’m met with her pursed-lips and an eye roll.

  “Ha, yeah. Your lady parts need some loving for sure.” She motions her head to the bar just ahead as a question, and I nod yes as an answer to both.

  “She does, she really does. I’m not sure I even remember how to flirt, Gretch.”

  “It’s like riding a bike. If all else fails, just tell him you give good head.”

  Coughing out of shock, I knock her shoulder with mine.

  “Gretch! I am not telling some random guy I give good h
ead.”

  She shrugs and grins as if it was a perfectly reasonable idea.

  “Or just tell him you want to see his dick,” she says, snapping her fingers and winking.

  “What is wrong with you!” My eyes are tearing at her silliness, and we laugh as we walk in, finding a spot at the bar and surveying the spot. Gretchen leans in, asking me to order her martini as she leaves for the ladies’ room. I nod and grab the bar menu, still entertained by our banter while perusing the appetizers. Ooh, mini steak sliders.

  The bartender walks up and places a napkin on the bar in front of me. “Hi, anything look good, or would you like a minute?”

  “What would you recommend?” Looking up, I smile at the shaved-head hottie, taken by his sexy grin and brown eyes.

  “Depends on what you’re up for…” Placing an elbow on the bar, he leans in. We are definitely not talking about food, or are we? Shit, I’m way too rusty. Is he flirting? Dammit, I need to answer…

  “I like meat.” As soon as I say it, my eyes grow wide with embarrassment, exacerbated by the awkward look on the bartender’s face.

  “I mean, sorry…uh…I’m a meat eater.” Fuck. This is embarrassing. Why can’t I make the words stop. “What I mean is, I would love the steak, but I’m not sure if I can fit that much meat in me.” Death would be welcomed. What is wrong with me! This is all Gretchen’s fault.

  Pushing back off the bar, he nods his head. “Okay, so I’ll give you a minute to look over the menu?” Smiling awkwardly, he walks away.

  If I could disappear, that would be perfect.

  Gretchen walks back to the bar and grabs her purse. “Hey, so, let’s hit another spot—nobody cute here, and now that you annihilated any chance of either of us sleeping with the hot bartender, we can’t stay.” Her giggle is joined by my own as I grab my clutch to follow her fast getaway.

  “Yes, please.” I put my hands over my face to as we exit the bar. “I’m embarrassed of myself…I couldn’t stop it from coming out! And I kept making it worse!”

  She grabs my hands, pulling them down, her face serious. “You think it was bad being in the moment? Try watching it, Drew…I almost peed my pants! You were like, ‘I like meat.’” We both double over with laughter, not caring what we look like on the sidewalk.

  “It’s your fault—you put the idea of dicks in my head, and that’s what popped out.” My laughter increases.

  “Don’t blame me. I told you, it’s like riding a bike; you’ll be fine with some more practice. But maybe let me do the ordering this time?” Calming down, she points to a bar across the street that looks crowded. “There.”

  “Done.”

  The place is packed full of people, some talking, all drinking. We have to wait for a minute at the bar, but Gretchen puts in our orders. When the bartender brings the drinks back, I take a long swig of my cool bourbon rocks. The feel of the burn and the spread of warmth is a welcome relaxant. I’m going to need some liquid courage for this night. I’ve been chasing my dreams instead of guys, but tonight I’m going to jump back on the saddle. Who says a girl can’t have it all?

  Gretchen has already jumped into the deep end with the new bartender while I pretend not to eavesdrop on their banter. A tap on my shoulder has me turning to look in the direction it came from, although I wish I hadn’t because this guy has sleazeball written all over him. Everything from his cheap suit to the cigarette smell turns me off.

  “Hey, beautiful, can I get you a drink?” He wags his eyebrows to complement his offer.

  Lifting my drink, I shake my head no and turn back around to Gretchen, who rolls her eyes to me but continues her conversation with her bartender hottie, who is decidedly hotter than the first one.

  Tap, tap, tap. No way. I turn back again to face my Beetlejuice caller.

  “Sorry, I’m not interested in a drink or anything else.” I’m polite, but there’s no mistaking my message.

  “You a lesbian?”

  I hate guys like this. Amazed at his audacity and arrogance, my voice fills with my disdain. “Seriously? I’m starting to see the draw. However, I wouldn’t want you to think it’s not you. So, no…I like dick, just not yours.” Smiling sweetly, I start to turn away when he reaches out for my arm, knocking my elbow and causing my drink to spill on the guy to my right.

  “What the hell!”

  Pivoting immediately, I reach to the bar for napkins to hand to the now-wet guy next to me. I blush with embarrassment as I look apologetically to my new bourbon soaked friend. “I’m so sorry.”

  He smiles down at me with the most perfect set of white teeth and winks. “No worries. I was just about to tell that guy to back off, but you seemed to handle yourself just fine.” His baby blues crinkling just a little as he smiles causes my hand to slow as I wipe at his shirt…his rock-hard shirt…shit, those are abs.

  Jerking my hand away before my wiping becomes indecent, I extend my hand. “Thanks, and thanks for almost stepping in. Drew—my name is Drew.” My cheeks feel flushed with the heat I’m feeling.

  “I’m Nick.”

  Well hello, Nick.

  He takes the wet napkin from my hand to add to the pile in his own and we both step closer to the bar. “Happy to almost help, but now that your drink is empty, can I buy you another one?”

  Yes, please.

  “Sure.” I smile, happy about his offer. “But I should really buy you one since I spilled mine all over you.” Tucking my hair behind my ears, I give my best flirty smile.

  “Oh, come on, let me do one gentlemanly thing? Plus, if he comes back, I’ll be here to show you how to really handle it.” Smirking, he leans his arm on the bar and faces me, blocking the jerk who made me spill my drink in the first place.

  “Oh, will you now? Here’s your chance—he’s still behind you.” I bite my lip to stifle my laugh.

  Turning, Nick looks at him and leans in and whispers something close to his ear. Creepo nods and lifts his drink to cheers me as he takes his leave.

  “What did you say to him?” I don’t want to admit it, but that was a pretty smooth move and my curiosity is piqued, but I’m only met with a devilish grin. A grin that only serves to highlight his adorable arrogance.

  “I’ll never tell. I’m sure you can handle yourself, but that’s my job—I mean, now that we’re dating and all.” He shrugs, his eyes lit with humor. Man, he’s a charmer.

  “What?” Laughing, I shake my head wondering how to even respond.

  The bartender walks up, and Nick orders himself a gin and tonic and me a Chardonnay.

  “White wine, is that what I want? Are you always this much of a bulldozer?”

  “Yes, and I’ll tell you why. It’s my favorite wine, and later when we kiss, I’ll be able to taste it on your lips. Plus, you’re a lady; you should let me treat you like one.”

  I’m speechless. This guy has red flags all over him, but I accept the wine because I can’t help wanting him to taste it off my lips too. Lust is a very good negotiator.

  One Week Later

  “Has he called you? It’s been exactly a week since you met him, so I want some news, Drew.” Demanding as always, Gretchen takes a big bite of her salad. This is our daily ritual most of the week—we order in to my office and catch up on our days—but this week has been a bear. I’m trying to get settled into my new position and feel like I’m in high school waiting for the popular boy to call me again. So, I’ve been mostly eating while working and going straight home to sleep.

  “Yes.” I shoot my hand out to stop her from attacking me with questions. “But before you go crazy, you should know that I told him during our only conversation I wasn’t the kind of girl that was DTR. I want to take things slow, Gretch. He seems great, but I don’t want to jinx anything.”

  “DTR? Define the relationship?” Her eyebrows raise, the humor apparent in her face.

  “Oh shit, wait, I meant DTF. See what happens when I try and be cool.” Rolling my eyes, I grab my pizza for another bite.

&n
bsp; “Oh my god! Drew, you basically said you wanted to keep it loose. Now he’s really going to think you are down to fuck, and by the way, nobody grown-up says that.” She can’t help but laugh at me while I shrug.

  “Whatever. I saw it on a Netflix show. I thought it was back in.”

  “You know what? You should fuck him.”

  My eyes jump to her face with surprise. “Slow down, I barely know him. He seems great, but we’ve had one really nice conversation, and he hasn’t called since.” Reaching over my desk, I grab a napkin and blot the grease from the top of my pizza.

  “You’re a thirty-one-year-old executive with no life that devotes herself to this, albeit rad, office. Get laid, Drew. I feel like it was invented for people like you.”

  I toss my napkin at her, and she gives me a hard stare, mumbling something about silk as she pushes the napkin off her lap.

  “Why does your compliment feel like an insult?”

  “Because it was. Listen, I love you the mostest, but you don’t have a life!”

  Putting my head in my hands, I look down at my desk and wonder if I’ve let it go too far, my drive toward ambition. I’ve been so focused on getting ahead, I forgot to have a life. It’s all about balance. My mother’s voice in my head reminds me of the day she signed the divorce papers from my father. She left him because he put everything before her, his career always coming first. I don’t want to end up like my dad. He’s alone and repentant, and she’ll never take him back.

  “I know, you’re right, but I’m not a total loss yet. I have a little bit of a life. I went to yoga just yesterday with that girl. The one that works on the floor below.”

  Pushing her lips together, Gretchen folds her hands in her lap, as if she can barely stand my denial. Her reaction to my lie makes me grin through another bite of pizza.

  “You don’t even know her name, and just because she was there at the same time doesn’t constitute a life and friends. Don’t play. Call Nick; break out of dork jail.”

  “Shut up,” I say, rolling my eyes at her.