Empire of Lies

by Whitney G.

  Empire of Lies

  Whitney Gracia Williams

  Copyright © 2020 by Whitney G.

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs.

  Editing by Evelyn Guy of Indie Edit Guy.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Visit my website at

  http://www.whitneygbooks.com/

  Created with Vellum

  Also By Whitney G.

  THE FIRM

  Filthy Lawyer

  (April 2020)

  Sinful Witness

  Dirty Judge

  Empire of Lies Series

  King of Lies

  Queen of Lies

  Legacy of Lies

  Empire of Lies: Full Series

  Steamy Coffee Reads Collection (Volume 1)

  Naughty Boss

  Dirty Doctor

  Cocky Client

  Steamy Coffee Reads Collection (Volume 2)

  Selfish Suit

  Wolfish Player

  Devilish Stranger

  Reasonable Doubt Series

  Reasonable Doubt #1

  Reasonable Doubt #2

  Reasonable Doubt #3

  Falling for Mr. Statham Series

  Resisting the Boss

  Loving the Boss

  The One Week Series

  On a Tuesday

  On a Wednesday

  On a Thursday

  On a Friday

  On a Saturday

  On a Sunday

  On a Monday

  Sincerely, Carter

  Forget You, Ethan

  Turbulence

  Over Us, Over You

  Two Weeks’ Notice

  The Fine Print

  The Layover

  For myself.

  I wrote this story just for myself.

  Preface

  Dear Awesome Reader,

  Thank you for downloading my new dark-ish/erotic romance, Empire of Lies!

  This book includes all three parts of the trilogy: King of Lies, Queen of Lies, & Legacy of Lies!

  Please know that although this book opens in a contemporary/sexy manner, it is a bit of a departure from my usual stories. Nonetheless, I fell head over heels in love with these two characters, and I’m excited to share their crazy & twisted romance with you.

  F.L.Y.

  (Effin Love You)

  Whitney G.

  King Of Lies

  Book 1 in the Empire of Lies Series

  Whitney G.

  About King Of Lies

  From the New York Times bestselling author of Reasonable Doubt & Turbulence, comes part one of a sexy and thrilling serial.

  The man I fell in love with is a fucking liar...

  I don't have much time to reveal all the details, but I will say this: The “Woman Disappears after Wedding” and “Woman Flees after Honeymoon” headlines are lying.

  I'm not missing.

  I didn't run away after my wedding.

  And I would've never run away right after our passionate honeymoon...

  My husband has taken me.

  No, correction: He's kidnapped me because he claims that "It's what's best." That I'm a mere pawn in his twisted game of chess.

  Despite the fact that my heart is still tethered to his, or the fact that he's still the most gorgeous and beautiful man I've ever met in my life (he can still make me wet with a single sentence), I have to focus on getting away from him.

  I have to accept that he's no longer the man I fell in love with.

  He's the king of lies...

  King of Lies is the first episode in the Empire of Lies Series.

  Prologue

  Michael

  Before you begin this story, I need you to know that I’m not a good man. I never will be.

  I’m telling you this now so that you won’t get your hopes up, so in those moments when your heart races and the tears prick your eyes—right when you start to believe that I’m a changed man or a ‘hero’ worthy of being on your book boyfriend shelf, you’ll already know that I’m two pages away from disappointing you.

  Everything that I once lived for has been burned to the ground, and all that remains are the ashes of my past. Every now and then, I’ll feel a flicker from a stubborn cinder that still burns—a desperate flame that craves more emotional attention, but I always blow it out.

  My days of attempting to be ‘a good person’ like everyone else are long gone, and I choose to live my life using a simple series of questions: What’s in it for me? How will this benefit me? Why the fuck are you asking me to do something when there’s nothing in it for me?

  All of that said, I have a few redeeming qualities that I’m more than happy to discuss, if you like: I’ve been more than blessed in the endowment department; I can be a gentleman when I want to be, and I own my fair share of properties on the Amalfi coast. (Feel free to do the math on my bank accounts. Plural.) When it comes to ‘relationships,’ I’ve never been interested in learning what that term means, but I more than make up for it between the sheets: I can devour your pussy in ways that will make you forget every man who came before me, leave you orgasming in utter bliss after a session of unforgettable fucking, but I’ll never love you. (Well, anyone, for that matter.)

  I’m not that guy.

  You’ll never find that in this story…

  The only thing you’ll see, if you look closely enough, is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. The woman who brought me to my knees and almost shattered everything I thought I knew.

  Keyword: Almost.

  Translation: ‘Almost’ doesn’t count.

  You see, even when the stakes have been dizzyingly high, I’ve never lost a single game in my life. Never hedged my bets or folded when all the chips were down.

  I’ve always known that the best player is the man who has nothing to lose, and in order to be a “hero,” you have to have something (or someone) worth fighting for.

  I never have.

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  Meredith

  Now

  Don’t stop running, Meredith. Don’t you dare stop running…

  I struggle to breathe as my lungs catch fire, stumbling through the woods with every step I take. My clothes are soaked from the night’s pouring rain, and tears are falling down my face. Even though my mind is telling me that I’m doing the right thing, my heart is begging me to turn around and run back.

  I refuse to listen.

  Last time I managed to escape, I miscalculated—tried to do too much, too soon, but this time, he won’t catch me. My lying, unfortunately—gorgeous and charming as ever—husband won’t have enough time to realize that I’m gone.

  And when he does, it’ll be too late. Far too late.

  Making my way past the mouth of the small town’s river, I stop and lean against a tree. Looking up, I can see my guiding light—the brightly lit billboard with my name and face printed on it. It takes everything in me not to break down and scream.

  MISSING:

  Meredith Alexis Thatchwood

  If found or seen, please call: 1-855-MER-TIPS

  Reward: $500,000

  (for any information leading to her safe return)

  www.meredithmissing.com

  The large picture onscreen features me smiling in front of a sunset, wearing my one-of-a-kind wedding dress. It’s an off-shoulder black gown, all in lace, with hints of silver in the seams. I can still remember the stunned look on my husband’s face when I walked down the aisle, the way the fabric lay on the floor of our honeymoo
n suite when he fucked me against the windows.

  Since I’ve been gone, I’ve managed to read one article by The New York Times, one where a so-called journalist wrote, “Perhaps Miss Thatchwood knew something no one else around her did. Perhaps she was well aware that she was dressing for her funeral, and not her wedding.”

  His attempt at treating my disappearance like a pretty poem still hurts.

  Trying to block out unnecessary thoughts, I start running again. Harder this time, much faster this time.

  Our memories cross my mind in hallucinatory flashes—him fucking me, him loving me, him promising that he’d never hurt me. I try not to blame myself for agreeing to marry him so soon, for being sucked into the instant pull he had on me, but there’s no one else I can fault for this.

  I honestly thought I was marrying the man of my dreams. Not the monster who locks me in a house seven days a week and keeps me on a schedule, like I’m some type of pet.

  Focusing on the path ahead, I keep my eyes on the ferry in the distance. It’s eight miles at best, but if I can make it there by midnight, I’ll be able to finally breathe.

  Headlights suddenly appear around the bend of the road ahead. Not wanting to risk trusting a stranger right now, I move behind a tree and keep still as it picks up speed and races down the street.

  It moves past me, and I let out a sigh. Before I can make a move, the car comes to a complete stop. Then it rolls in reverse.

  It takes me all of five seconds to realize that the black luxury car doesn’t belong to any random stranger. It’s my husband’s.

  My heart pounds loudly in my chest as he drives a few feet away from me. His lights flash a few times, and my heart races as the vehicle comes to a complete stop.

  I freeze as the sound of the driver’s door opening and shutting cuts through the night. The sound of footsteps on the gravel is behind me, to the left. Then to the right.

  The footsteps come nearer, and I sense him as he gets closer.

  Suddenly, he’s stepping in front of me, his deep green eyes looking stunning under the moonlight. His chiseled face of perfection is inches away from mine, his expression torn between anger and relief.

  “Please just let me go,” I say, feeling fresh tears fall down my face. “Please. I won’t tell anyone that you took me, I swear. I’ll keep quiet, and we can pretend like this never happened.”

  “That’s not an option,” he says, closing the gap between us. Keeping his eyes on mine, he looks exactly like he did on the night we met. Perfect. Tortured. Pained.

  “I’ve been missing three whole weeks,” I say, trying to plead my case again. “Don’t you think my family is crying and wondering if I’ve been murdered? Have you ever thought about the toll this is taking on them?”

  He doesn’t answer. He wipes my tears away with his fingertips until they stop falling. Then he slips an arm around my waist and holds me against his side as he leads me to his car.

  I know there’s no point in screaming, no point in making a threat I have no power to deliver, so I try the emotional route once more.

  “You’re hurting me,” I say as he opens the back door. “You’ve hurt me more than any other person in my life.”

  “I haven’t hurt you at all.” He looks offended. “I’ve given you whatever you needed.”

  “Except freedom.”

  “Because that’s the last thing you need right now.” He cups my face in his hands, and the warmth from his skin instantly soothes me; my body reacts against my will. My foolish heart feels at ease for some strange reason.

  He runs his fingers through my hair for several seconds, looking directly into my eyes. “I honestly don’t want to do this to you,” he says.

  “Then don’t.”

  He looks as if he considers that option for half a second, but then he shakes his head. He presses a cotton swatch over my lips, two strips of duct tape over my mouth next. He picks up a rug and tightly rolls me inside of it. Then he lifts me up and places me onto the backseat, so that my eyes are in perfect view of his via the rearview mirror.

  Sliding behind the wheel, he turns on the heat and pulls onto the road. He gazes back at me and looks as if he wants to say something harsh, but his cell phone begins to ring.

  “Yes?” he answers via the car’s speaker.

  “Mr. Anderson, this is Sergeant Ware, do you have a few minutes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to call you so late, but we just received a few tips about your wife,” he says. “Someone thinks they may have seen her at a diner two hundred miles outside of the city, so I have a team heading there to check it out.”

  “Fingers crossed that it’s really her this time,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. “I’m really struggling to cope with her missing for yet another week.”

  “Trust me, sir. We have our best guys on it. Would you mind coming to the station tomorrow morning? We’ll keep you posted throughout the night on when the officers arrive at that town.”

  “Absolutely,” he says. “Thank you so much for working so hard to find her.”

  “You’re welcome, sir. See you in the morning.”

  The call comes to an end with a long beeping sound, the same sound I hear whenever I walk through the rooms of the secured mansion where he’s been keeping me.

  “I need you to trust me, Meredith,” he says. “That’s the entire foundation of a marriage, is it not?”

  “Fuck. You.” I mumble through the tape. “Fuckkkk you.”

  He smiles as if he understands my words. “We haven’t done that since our honeymoon, but I’m more than open to that again, if you like.”

  I repeat my words a little louder this time.

  “Question,” he says, as he veers the car onto a bridge. “Let’s assume that you could have anything in the world right now, that I had the power to give it to you. What do you think that would be?”

  Even if I could answer, I wouldn’t.

  I shut my eyes in protest and ignore him.

  Without a doubt, I already know how the rest of the night will unfold. Half an hour from now, he’ll let me out of the car and lead me through the terrace. He’ll let me roam freely in the abandoned mansion, the gilded prison where no windows unlock, no doors open from the inside. He’ll be more careful this time when the housekeeping worker arrives; I won’t be able to sneak into the bed of her flower truck to get away again.

  And then he’ll feed me more lies. My heart will hang onto every word he says, my body will react to seeing him in any way it can, and I’ll have to fight like hell to hold onto the truth.

  The man I married no longer exists. The king of my heart is long gone, and he wears a new name. He’s the king of lies.

  “There’s really nothing you would want right now, Meredith?” The deep sound of his voice makes my eyes flutter open, and I realize we’re at the mansion. He peels the duct tape from my mouth. “Nothing at all?”

  I say nothing, even though there is one thing I’d want above everything else.

  I just want things to go back to how they were before.

  How ‘we’ were before…

  Meredith

  Before

  I’m getting exactly what I deserve right now…

  I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, counting down from twenty for the last time. The man I brought home from the bar—my first one night stand in years, was currently having a conversation with his cock. Literally.

  “Come on, little buddy.” He patted his thighs. “We can do this. We can get this stroking done.”

  Thirteen seconds.

  “You were hard when you saw this woman at dinner earlier…You can get hard again and pound her pussy.”

  I held back a groan as he continued. I should’ve known that my expectations were way too high, that his promises of “making you come more than you ever have in your life” were far too much for him to deliver. He also repeatedly mentioned that I was “uppity” and “a little smarter than ex
pected” throughout the night. He’d followed up those sugarcoated insults with, “Uppity girls tend to have super high expectations in bed. They’re not as patient, and they don’t believe in enjoying all the motions I have to offer before the climax.”

  “It’s two weeks before the new year, man. It’s time to score big.” He now sounded like a football coach. “We’re going to wear a condom since we got gonorrhea the last time, I swear.”

  What the hell? I sat up and looked over at him, shaking my head as he cradled his manhood. Half of me was curious to know if this pep talk would end with him kissing his own shaft.

  “Um, Scott?” I cleared my throat. “I just remembered that I have to be up for work early in the morning, so—”

  “Can you give us a second, please?” He scoffed, looking up at me. “I’m trying to fix this, so we can fuck you tonight.”

  I wasn’t even sure how to respond to that, and he didn’t give me a chance. He looked down again, rendering me invisible to their conversation once more.

  Rolling off the mattress, I left the room and pulled the door shut behind me. I grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter and slipped into the bathroom.