The Secrets We Keep: Secrets and Revelations Book One

by Selina Marie

  Nate took fucking forever to respond to the dozens of texts I sent him, and by the time he’d responded that she was ok, that didn’t answer the question as to where the fuck she was. I was losing my goddamn mind when I had driven all over town looking for her, my first stop being Grotleyton. My body shook with tremors of rage thinking about the last time I were there.

  I scanned the streets looking for her, among the scumbags that lined the sidewalks, huddled together doing drug deals and shooting up coke.

  There wasn’t a lot of time left in between tracking down Emilia and getting ready for this stupid fucking fundraising event I had to attend tonight.

  I couldn’t give two shits about it, but I was donating what some might consider quite a hefty amount. Of course, it was pocket change to me but whatever. I had also assured Nate I would go because his father was attending, and that would only end badly for one of them, most likely Alexander, Nate’s father.

  I tried to reassure myself that she’d be fine, Nate told me she was, and if there was anyone I trusted, it was him, so I know he wouldn’t bullshit with me, especially when it came to her.

  ◆◆◆

  Stepping into the Carmichael’s home is like any other event I have attended. Full of hungry little leeches, who will literally suck up to you so much they might as well be on their knees giving my cock a good time, at least then one of us would be mildly satisfied.

  We knew it would be this way though, the men looking at us with envy, wishing they were us. The women with lustful and longing stares, flocking and gravitating toward us hoping that they’ll capture our attention, and we would later feast on their pussies, their husbands be damned.

  It isn’t long before I’m sick of the boring suits I’ve been entertaining with talk of politics and corporate matters. If I could pull out my Glock and blow my own brains out, I would. I need a fucking drink, something stronger than the champagne that’s being passed out.

  A flash of porcelain wrapped in a silky satin gown catches my attention, and I’d know that petite little body anywhere. Emilia stalks through the guests with her head down a little, clearly not wanting to make any small talk with anyone. Judging by the perverted stares of the majority of men she’s passed, she has the right idea.

  Me on the other hand?

  I want them to look into my eyes and watch their reflections as I pummel them into the marble pillars that are dotted around the room.

  Following her and avoiding every mind numbingly vapid person here, I get side-tracked by Alexander Grayson, Nate’s father.

  The devil himself.

  “Lukas, son, I don’t suppose you’ve happened to see Nathaniel this evening?” The air of arrogance this man exudes is something else entirely.

  “Not your son, and nope, haven’t seen him.” I sneer, my disdain more than obvious, and he knows exactly why. I wouldn’t subject Nate to time with his father even if someone bought my father back from the dead for me to kill him all over again. He’s a piece of shit and Nate had an even more fucked up childhood than Elijah and I had.

  He knows I’m lying due to the smug-as-shit smirk playing on my lips. The twitch in his jaw declares his irritation, and it’s a shame I don’t give a fuck.

  “Gorgeous girl here tonight, long dark hair, blue satin dress. I might go and see if she wants to play.” He knows exactly what he’s doing, trying to press my buttons. I don’t know if he knows there is something going on between Emilia and I, and as much as I would love to put a bullet between the man’s eyes, I cannot deny that he’s an intelligent man. However, he clearly isn’t smart enough to know that my buttons are already so close to detonating. He should keep going though, I ache to feel my Glock in my hand and get a little trigger happy.

  I played a little too nice with Alexis for my liking, and it’s gotten me all pent up, ready to break some bones.

  Alexander doesn’t want to push me right now, that’s a certainty.

  His eyes flicker between mine, curiously. He’s trying to see if his words have an effect on me.

  Doesn’t he know anything?

  We learned from the best and surpassed their gift of an impenetrable poker face. If he thinks he can get even a flicker of a reaction out of me, the man’s an idiot.

  “Be sure to tell your wife hello from me,” I spit out the words with conviction, lacing them with venom and accusation, crystal clear on my tongue. Alexander leaves, his eyes brimming with annoyance that he wasn’t able to crack me when Emilia was mentioned. He stalks away into the crowd of black, white and color.

  My eyes scan the room, searching for Emilia after that asshole distracted me from finding my girl. Darting from face to face, I finally find that gorgeous head of silky dark waves that cascades down her back, my fingers itching to touch her. That isn’t what sets the raging beast inside of me off though, and the sensation isn’t really rage but more along the lines of jealousy which isn’t possible. I don’t do jealous.

  Emilia has her back to me, but I watch as her head tips back, downing her drink almost in one go. I can’t quite make out what is being said between her and the waiter. The way his eyes roam over her body, looking at every curve that I’ve had my mouth on, sends a current of electricity through me and I have to stop myself from storming over there and snapping the motherfucker’s neck. I don’t need to hear the words they’re speaking because the glint of desire in his eyes says more than enough.

  Is she looking at him the same way? I can tell she’s smiling from the way her face fills out a little bit more around her cheeks. The thought that maybe this boring, safe prick made her smile does something to me. Pathetic I know, but she’s mine.

  I move in, curving my arm around her waist, to make sure that this little prick knows she’s off limits. My eyes threaten that he should move his ass, and fast, unless he wants to be on the receiving end of my fists. Like I said, I didn’t get my usual fill earlier today in the warehouse, and I could be ready to burn this place to the ground if pushed far enough.

  Patience isn’t exactly my strongest attribute, not when it comes to Emilia Blake.

  When he realizes who I am and starts squirming like a little bitch, I know I don’t have anything to worry about regardless, but his actions confirm it for me.

  Sending him one final death glare, he scurries off and I’m left alone with Emilia, as alone as you can be in a hall full of two hundred people, give or take.

  The heat radiating from her stomach, through the satin and straight into my hands is making my dick stir, and just when I think I can move in a little closer, she spins and shoves me back. Tried to shove me is the operative term, and when I don’t budge she takes a step away from me instead. I want her body back on mine, in my hands so that I can play with her and claim her. Fuck if she isn’t determined though, the glare in her eyes speaks volumes at just how pissed she is at me.

  I grab her and drag her fine ass along with me until I find a vacant bathroom. I don’t care where we are, but I need her alone.

  When I’m on my knees gazing up at this beautiful, broken girl, the pain in her eyes and her soft cries are like a bullet to my chest. The thing that makes the connection, the chemistry between us even more tormenting, is that she can’t see how seeing her in pain kills me.

  Emilia can’t see how fucking gone for her I am. I know I fucked up by not being honest with her, but I never thought I’d feel the way I do about her. She was just supposed to be a pawn to get what I wanted from Alexis. She was nothing. Well, if there’s a God I bet he’s fucking laughing at me now.

  Emilia Blake went from being the woman I hated, the woman who meant nothing to me, to the woman who means everything.

  I pace the floor, restlessly as I fight with myself. Expressing my feelings has never been something I’ve been good at, hell the only way I know how to show how I am feeling is through the ecstasy that comes with sex, or with blood and violence. Neither of which are fucking helpful right now when the girl who plagues my mind constantly, cannot see just
how fucking amazing she is.

  I know it’s my fault though. I know she doesn’t trust me and it’s understandable. All I’ve done is lie, but that’s my nature and trying to erase something that has been so deeply engrained and conditioned into my being is not something that will happen easily, if at all.

  I am desperate for her word that she’ll stay the fuck away from Robert, Grotleyton, and anywhere he might be—fuck I’d take her out of Penderal Bay if she wouldn’t lose her shit over it. I know that’s out of the question though, as much as she despises Robert and that hell hole town, her life is here. It’s where she grew up, went to school, goes to college, her best friend is here and it’s where I am.

  Asking her to promise me she’ll stay safe, she didn’t get to answer my question because some motherfucker with a death wish is on the other side of the door, pounding with no sign of letting up.

  I’m ready to rip this bastard a new asshole when I swing the door open and find Mrs. Carmichael on the other side. Her face has seen better days, I mean yeah, she’s attractive but the woman has taken a few too many trips to the plastic surgeon and it’s no longer subtle. Her shock quickly morphs into a smile and then as she winds her neck around the door, the bulge of her eyes almost has me smirking. It doesn’t reach my face though, because between the apologies and stutters she grabs Emilia and drags her out of the bathroom.

  Who the fuck does she think she is? This might be her house, but she just pissed off the wrong guy. I’ll let my anger reflect in the reduction of zeros I will be writing out to her little charity on the fundraiser cheque. It might be a dick move but she has herself to blame entirely.

  I follow slowly behind keeping my eyes locked on Emilia, and the grip that Mrs. Carmichael has around her arm causes me to grind my teeth together in fury. This woman is really begging to feel my wrath if she doesn’t get her fucking hands off of my girl.

  As if she hears me, she releases Emilia, and I watch as they all make their way to the staircase that leads to the left wing of the house. Trying to avoid the lingering looks of the people around me, persistent in their bid to talk, or flirt with me, I step closer to Emilia, waiting for her promise. I need it and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because if she’s still willing to promise me something, then maybe there is a little trust there after all.

  Inhaling her hair that smells like papayas and a little hairspray, I prompt her, “I asked you to promise me…” I can’t explain the relief that floods my body when Emilia says, “I promise I’ll stay safe.”

  For now, it’s enough for me. At least while she’s here, she is safe. Nowhere near as safe as she would be with me, but it’s not going to happen anytime fucking soon, and unfortunately my stubborn ass doesn’t get a goddamn choice.

  The rest of the night is so fucking tedious, and I don’t have a damn clue where Nate has gone. I haven’t seen the fucker all night and he’s one of the reasons I even showed up to this over-the-top excuse for a party, and to boast who has the bigger dick.

  I call it a night a couple hours later and get into my car, thanking Sergio for coming out this late. Loosening my tie and removing the cufflinks around my wrists my phone vibrates in my pocket. Wrestling it out of my pants, the screen lights up with the last person I expected.

  Emilia’s messaging me. I glance to the clock at the top of my screen and it reads 2.33 a.m. What is she still doing awake?

  I don’t need to wonder for long because the message waiting for me is enough to threaten my food and drink to come back up. The warmth from the beginning of her words instantly turns to ice, when I realize what she’s found out. Another thing I’ve kept from her is out. My true identity.

  Emilia: Great seeing you tonight Mr Elin. Another fucking lie.

  Fuck!

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Emilia

  The hangover from Hades has been keeping me up all night, praying to the porcelain Gods. My hair sticks to the sides of my face, drenched in sweat. When I get sick, I get feverish and my body doesn’t know if it wants to be hot, boiling or freezing, so it just jumps between them all, making me feel even more like shit in the process. Self-inflicted, I know, but it still doesn’t make it suck any less.

  Mel and I had been knocking back tequila until we both passed out. She didn’t have to stick it out with me, but she wouldn’t be Melody Carmichael or my best friend if she bailed and let me drown in my self-pity and sorrow alone.

  I sit back cautiously hoping the worst of the vomiting is over. There’s no way I have anything left in my stomach at this point, and it aches from the void of food and the persistent tightening of the muscles as they expelled everything in my body. If only it could expel the pain that I feel in every part of me, burned into my DNA.

  I cling on to the sink, next to the toilet as I pull myself up. I barely have any energy to move but I manage to stagger back toward Mel’s bed. All that I can see are wild red tendrils of hair vibrant in contrast with the white bedspread. She’s still out of it, but I am grateful that she’s managed to actually sleep through most of the night.

  The old me would be having a fit right now. I honestly have no idea what day it is; they all seem to blur into one. I lost my grip on reality the more I got caught up in this world, and in Lukas.

  I won’t even let my thoughts take me there right now. I can’t deal with it. I’m also pretty certain I’ve missed so many of my college classes I am going to be in serious trouble soon, if not already. After everything that has come out though, I can’t bring myself to care. And that realization throws me through a loop. I had been so set on becoming a lawyer, so I could help and protect the innocent like my sister, or so I had thought.

  Everything has been flipped a full one-eighty and it turns out that Alexis is no innocent at all, she’s the criminal; she is the bad guy and the knowledge of that changed everything for me. The goal of becoming a lawyer had possessed me entirely and now?

  Now I don’t feel that fire in my belly for it anymore. Maybe that’s because the girl I did it all for is a liar and a fake, to the highest degree.

  Crawling into the bed and burrowing myself under the thick duvet, my body starts to get the memo that a healthy ninety-seven degrees Fahrenheit is what it should be, the shivers settling until they become nothing. I nudge Mel and get a moody grunt in return.

  “Mel, do we have school today?” I croak, my throat protesting and desperate for water.

  Throwing her body out from under the cocoon of covers she was bundled up in, Mel scowls at me and if looks could kill right now… well, you get it.

  “I don’t fucking care if we do. I’m running on—” Her eyes flick to the clock on the nightstand behind me, “Urgh, three fucking hours of sleep. I’m not moving for shit,” she grumbles, tossing the duvet back over her head and going back to sleep.

  I wish I could do the same, but now that the drunken haze is clearing, the events from last night are all coming back to me with a vengeance. Pain in my head throbbed against my temples, and I begrudgingly get up and grab a bottle of water from the little minifridge Mel keeps hidden away in her walk-in closet.

  Draining the contents in less than a minute, I feel a little better, my stomach, protesting against the cold and sudden intrusion, soon calms and accepts the water gratefully. My head still hurts, but it’s a little less prominent now that I’ve hydrated. I move and crash back into bed curling up, willing for sleep to take me, gently.

  It takes me into a deep unconsciousness, but it doesn’t take me kindly.

  A pair of bright blue eyes pass over mine carelessly. Everything is fuzzy and I don’t know the face, it’s a blur, as if this is a forgotten memory. I can’t place it.

  A lady picks me up and I must be young, surely too young for this to be a memory. My consciousness recognizes her, and I know that it’s Felicity, but the young version of me doesn’t know this woman.

  I feel as if I’m the child, the younger version of me, but also looking in from the outside as myself—who I am now.
The way it fluctuates between the two is dizzying.

  This man’s face though, I can’t shake it and I feel like I’ve seen it maybe, ever so briefly. The fog of this dream or memory with what I know of the real world outside of my sleeping state is confusing, but I try to pay attention. It’s hard though because this is unlike any dream I’ve ever had, no matter how vivid.

  “Felicity, you know what you have to do. No one is to hear of this, do I make myself clear?” The man scares me as he speaks to my mother, his voice hissing and so brutally cruel that I cling to her, frantically. The sound of sobbing catches my attention, and I can see a woman on the ground in the corner. She cradles her knees to her chest, sobs wracking her body as she struggles for breath. Her eyes watch me, pain-stricken grief and no room for any other emotion fills them, not letting up even though she cries out her sadness, each tear soaking the fabric covering her knees, as she rocks slightly back and forth.

  I want to go back to her and help her. She looks so sad and a part of me worries that she is with this cruel man who speaks, his voice void of any emotion except for aggression and hate.

  His voice makes me jump when he spits out his next words. I think my mother flinches as well as she holds me in her arms loosely, but I can’t be sure.

  “What did you name her, bitch?” His voice is loud, and I know it’s meant for the lady cowering in the corner when she flinches and her sobs quieten for a moment.

  Seconds pass, the man looks over at me in disdain, and I want my mother to hold me tighter and protect me against the viciousness of the man in front of us.

  “She’s called Emilia,” the woman cries, unable to reign in her emotions for long.

  “Will you shut up, you fucking whore, you got yourself into this mess. You should be thanking me.” When the monster swings around, marching over to the woman, I bury myself into my Felicity’s chest, hiding away, terrified. He grabs her, yanking her on her feet and smashing her back into a cold hard wall, and I swear I hear a crack. She wails and sobs struggling to break out of his grip.