Lies & Secrets (Boston Latte Book 1)

by Fiona Keane

  “I think you’re not entirely who you claim to be.” I swallowed the air violently swirling in my dry throat, continuing in a quick breath to not give him an opportunity to respond. “I think your family isn’t who they claim to be. I think you’re using me as a pawn to get something. All of you. There’s something you need or want and—”

  Liam interrupted my rant, his posture erecting rather arrogantly as though I pressed a button along his nerves. Yet his smile softened, his words confidently tumbling from his grinning lips.

  “Could it possibly be that all we need or want might be you, Aideen?”

  Liam’s words repeated in my mind, the inflection of his voice on my name becoming eerily familiar.

  “Your brother was right about one thing.” I nervously licked my lips, my head beginning to shake dubiously.

  “Oh? What’s that, bird? How incredibly handsome his younger brother is or, maybe, that I should be responsible for protecting the loveliest of birds? Instead, it’s Julian who has your wings clipped,” Liam sighed, glancing away at the approaching server. His eyes briefly flickered to mine while the interloper refilled our coffees and water, hastily retreating.

  “So what exactly was the old man right about?” Liam repeated his question, taking his vibrating phone from the interior pocket of his suit coat. He absentmindedly scanned the screen while awaiting my response.

  “Two things, actually.” The thought tickled my lips with a smile. “First, you’re a ruthless flirt. Second, it isn’t polite to avoid eye contact when someone is speaking to you.”

  “Ha,” Liam playfully scoffed, “speak of the devil. I’m sorry to cut short our lunch, bird, but I need to excuse myself.” Liam’s thumbs typed a message on his phone while he spoke to me, his mind in two separate settings.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “That depends on what we agree to disclose as everything.” His wink was a threatening flirt, opening the opportunity for more. “Aideen, have you ever found yourself trying to think of a word, but nothing comes? It’s right there, on the tip of your tongue, but nothing comes?”

  “That happens to everyone.” What the hell is this character talking about? Maybe he isn’t the nicest after all. Maybe he is the craziest. Liam stood from the table, removing a wad of cash from the same pocket that previously housed his vibrating phone and dropping it onto the table. I never heard money make a sound, but that thud was horrifically expensive.

  “Have you ever wondered why you can’t think of the word,” he continued, reaching for my hand, “or maybe felt like déjà vu?”

  “Forgive me,” I accepted Liam’s hand, my skin melting like a damn dairy-free ice cream cone in the middle of summer, “but what are you talking about?”

  I noticed David return to the room, his empty expression less frightening than Mr. Ferrell’s but equally befuddling.

  “Just something to think about.” Liam helped me stand, promptly releasing my hand and accepting his wool coat from David, whose long steps were quick to join us. I observed Liam’s silent reminder that our conversation ended, the lick of his lips and playful lift of his eyebrows, all hidden behind a glorious grin that radiated to his blue eyes. How did this family master the gene pool? I can’t handle them.

  “Sir,” David muttered, pulling Liam’s gaze from mine, “we need to leave now if we’re to make the hearing.”

  “Hearing?” I inquired, struggling to keep up with Liam and David’s pace as they promptly exited the restaurant. Wait. I’m still hungry. I turned, my body whimpering at the plate full of gourmet fries that would just go to waste. Rich assholes. I was tempted to return and grab my plate as a souvenir, but Liam waited for me at the restaurant entrance, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. If I squinted, I could pretend he was Julian. Wait. Why the hell am I squinting? Open your eyes, bird, babby, Aideen, whoever the hell you are around these people.

  “Senate hearing for some legislation my grandfather is working on securing,” Liam replied, my nerves satisfied that a Molloy actually gave me information. “I have to go meet your landlord at the State House. I apologize again, Aideen.”

  “I didn’t know they let normal people into Senate hearings,” I whispered while we stood just outside, my toes chilling as I stepped into freshly fallen snow. “Oh, wait. You’re not a normal person.”

  Liam flipped up the collar of his coat, muffling the sound of his warm chuckle. He turned toward me, his eyes sparkling me into submission. “David will get you home.” Liam’s right hand fell to my shoulder, searing through the layers of fabric. “And soon enough, you’ll have Julian home to protect you.”

  “I’m starting to wonder if I need protection from him.” I bit my upper lip, forcing back the muffled laugh that threatened to expose itself.

  “That’s,” Liam leaned forward, quickly kissing my forehead with enough gall to fill Fenway on opening day, “what I’m here for. Have fun tonight, bird.”

  “Hmph,” I muttered at his retreat, my fingers lifting to the tickling pulse along my forehead. David escorted Liam for the two-block journey to the State House, leaving me alone in the frigid, gray air. Isn’t David taking me home? My frozen breath swirled in paralyzed suspension as the air chilled everything it touched. He left me alone. Outside. Another test? Liam’s retreating figure now a blur, I scanned the sidewalk in both directions. There were too many people out for the weather. I didn’t remember what day it was, and the thought of walking across the Common to work was enticing. I took two steps forward, my feet entering the plowed pavement of Beacon Street.

  “Aid!”

  I froze, my skin crawling with painfully frozen icicles. I was rigid, unsure of which direction to turn. There are too many people. Don’t make a scene.

  “Aid!” His volume grew in proximity, its inflection drawing blood from my soul. I began to heat, my core building with a burning rage. The last time I saw Elliott, heard his pathetic voice, was when he told me his truth. Julian’s words trickled into my mind. His threat, his possessively arrogant assumption that people would hurt me and he would need to kill every single one. I imagined Elliott’s demise, my mind twisting with improbable scenarios for how Julian would end him. Why did I even want to picture Julian in that way? Why am I believing any of this?

  “Aid.” Elliott grabbed my shoulder, my body quick to reject his touch. “Hey. I haven’t heard from you. I…how…are you okay?” Am I what? What the fuck did this fucking fuck just fucking ask me? The arrogance, the supreme condescending notion that Elliott Daly would even think to ask if I was okay was far from okay. I began to close in on myself, protecting my heart with a shield of my crossed arms.

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  Elliott’s lips dropped into a frown, his hands nervously tapping against his hips. “Aideen, I am so sorry. You have to believe me. I have an addiction, a problem. I’m…I don’t know how to make this right between us.”

  “I have nothing to say to you,” I repeated, glaring at the pathetic imbecile, noting how disheveled and pale he was. Elliott’s skin was gray, thinning from exhaustion. His eyes were hollow, almost entirely void of self. Elliott again reached for me, his bony fingers attempting to adhere themselves to my wrists. All I could think of was Julian. His warmth. His kitchen. His trinity knot. His hair. His smile. His tattoos. Julian. I officially crossed over into the zone of Stockholm syndrome with those thoughts, but there was something else. There was an inkling, a secure feeling that came along with the mere and beautiful thought of Julian. Safety. Comfort. It was beyond his fairytale film, beyond his threats, but a feeling that returned my heart to Liam’s notion of déjà vu.

  “Aid, please,” Elliott’s voice was low, his grasp tightening, “we need to talk.” Celtic cross. D for Diana. Blue eyes. Heavenly blue eyes. Honey lattes. Rope. Blanket. That kiss. It wasn’t a mistake. This isn’t a mistake. Déjà vu.

  “It’s probably best for you to fuck off, Elliott,” I told him, my voice cold. “It’s in your best interest if you
leave me alone.”

  “I can’t do that, Aid. You’re family to me.”

  “You’ve got a messed-up sense of family then,” I scoffed, pulling my wrists away, only for his hold to tighten. The winter wind was blustery, kissing my exposed skin with its painfully frigid breeze. I wasn’t aware. I was alone, vulnerable, and feeling abandoned. Boston was proving to be a dangerous place to the unaware after all. Julian. God! What the hell is happening to me?! I found myself praying for Julian, asking Buddha to send the devil to protect me. I was so close to his family at that moment, under two blocks from at least three of them and entirely isolated in another dimension. Where the hell is David?

  “Family is everything, Aideen. You know how important it is to me, and you know you’re part of it. I’m sorry I’ve destroyed us. I’m getting help. Trust me.”

  “I don’t.” I trust Julian. Whoa. Where did that come from?

  “Can we just go somewhere and talk about this? Please, Aid. I’ll do anything.”

  I glanced around, willing Elliott’s hands to loosen their grasp as some men approached, deep in discussion. As they stepped closer, I pulled my wrists away, evading Elliott’s hold while he tumbled into one of the men.

  “Hey,” one snarled at Elliott, helping him stand. “Watch where you’re going. It’s too damn slippery out here to be messing around on the sidewalk.”

  “Thanks.” Elliott brushed off his coat, nodding to the men as they stepped aside. “Why won’t you just come talk with me, Aid?” Elliott, not getting a damn clue, came closer to me with extended arms. I stepped to the side, afraid to turn my back on him. Who knows what this idiot is capable of doing? I need Julian. I could see the State House, its dome taunting me with the reminder of just how close Liam and Julian were while Elliott harassed me on the sidewalk.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you, Elliott,” I informed him, my voice struggling to gain composure. “Our friendship died the day you stole money from me.” It died the moment you introduced Malcolm to me, the moment you tried to have me killed for a measly fifty thousand dollars. I couldn’t let him know what I knew, if it was even the truth. What did Julian have to gain by lying to me about Elliott? He had to be telling the truth. I needed to pick a truth. I needed to find a story and stick to it. I needed to run. Inhaling a shaky breath, I quickly spun around in an effort to flee Elliott, only to smash directly into a pedestrian. He smells too fucking nice. My lungs collapsed as my gaze wandered to the trinity knot while his hands curled around my shoulders.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Jesus Christ, babby.” The familiar tone, alive with irritation and scolding frustration bellowed from above me in a hushed whisper. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I…” I couldn’t. Julian’s head lowered, examining the features of my frozen face for evidence of something. Maybe he is just trying to rate his potential responses by level of anger based on how I appear. Or maybe he actually cares. Ha. Well, he cares a lot more than this other prick over here. Julian never stole my money. He just kidnapped me and keeps me in his home. Oh, wait.

  “You…” Julian muttered, his blue eyes deepening while he frantically searched my face. “What? Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No. Yes. No,” I whispered, my eyes finally contacting his. I trembled beneath his burning stare, his incensed expression filling me with fear and relief. Julian’s hands slid around my shoulders, pulling me into him. Thank Buddha. I was overcome with my reprieve, securely in his hold, in his possession and care. I almost forgot that the gesture was most likely because we were standing on the open streets of Boston, plenty of press and pedestrians available to capture Julian’s every movement. His lips pressed against the top of my head, sending waves of warm reassurance into my calm mind.

  “Ah,” Elliott quietly sighed when he caught up to me.

  “Good morning, Mr. Daly.” Julian’s voice rumbled through his chest, my ear burning with delight at the reaffirming sound of my safety. Two weeks ago, this sound was my death and now it was my life. Just keep still. Keep listening.

  The way Julian’s chest vibrated with each word calmed my mind, my ears keen on every pulse of his speech. Julian’s hold was stabilizing, reminding my soul that I could move. What the hell is happening to my mind right now? I’m supposed to hate this guy. I do…in the total opposite way. Shit. I lifted my head from Julian’s chest, instantly missing the warmth his coat provided against the crisp air. I noticed Elliott’s fingers violently shiver, trembling with more force. I didn’t know if it was in response to Julian, his own nerves about being a stupid excuse for a friend, his truth, or…he can’t know about Julian…could he? My eyes blurred while I pondered the likelihood that my theory of who Julian Molloy really was could be true, and even more shattering, Elliott knew and wasn’t smart enough to back away. Smart enough? I’m still standing here, in Julian’s arms. What does that say about me? That I’m smart enough. I’m a fucking genius.

  “Mr. Molloy.” Elliott stepped back, pulling my focus from the blurry sidewalk. “It’s great to see you again.” I wanted to laugh at that. If Elliott knew what I did, seeing Julian would signal a finality not desired by anyone. I’m losing it.

  “Is it?” Julian questioned, his voice rigid and deep, frightening me with its mysterious scoff. The echo of his words was already spinning through my mind before he spoke them. I glanced at Julian apprehensively, hoping to catch his forceful glare against Elliott’s disgusting face. If looks could kill. But he does it beautifully. I would let Julian destroy me with those eyes.

  “We should go,” I whispered, swallowing the fear of appearing entirely submissive and weak beneath Julian’s consuming hold. But it feels so nice. I didn’t want to move away from him, and that wasn’t my goal. Instead, I was naïvely hoping to prevent bloodshed on the sidewalk at my expense. Julian’s shoulders softened with my words. His eyes fell from Elliott, melting as they met mine, shifting entirely from arrogant to an expression of something more sincere…fondness? Affection? Losing it. His left hand reached for mine, intertwining our icy fingers. Before Julian could say anything, Elliott’s voice disturbed the fantasy that Julian might actually be looking at me instead of simply observing his actress on her stage.

  “Wow,” Elliott exclaimed, his voice eerily calm. “Emma was right. You do have a boyfriend. Interesting.”

  “What are you getting at?” Julian probed, his hold tightening against my warming skin. I slowly leaned against his protection, reaching for our intertwined fingers with my other hand. I was holding him, holding onto him, and securing myself at his side along the snowy sidewalk. The devil and I were staring down a demon, engaged in a silent battle for the truth. The truth. Whatever the hell that is!

  “It’s kind of a big thing to keep secret, don’t you think?” Elliott inquired. “I mean…we had a contract and everything, yet you didn’t disclose any of this.” I felt Julian’s skin tremble with warmth, although he remained entirely collected and still.

  “A big thing to keep secret, Mr. Daly, is one of the infinite ways you planned the demise of your closest friend. I’d say that’s probably a much greater issue than the fact Aideen and I are together.” Together. Wait, clear my mind, please…did he just come out and accuse Elliott of hurting me?

  “What are you talking about?” Elliott demanded, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. I was sure he couldn’t believe I told Julian anything because friends didn’t gossip. Friends. Or maybe he’s afraid Julian really knows…

  “Stealing her money,” Julian continued, his tone calm and direct. It was too casual for him to develop arguments, to sustain an accusatory conversation. He will make a terrifying father. What? Oh, Jesus.

  “We don’t need to do this now,” I mumbled, squeezing Julian’s hand, only for him to ignore my hushed suggestion and continue threatening Elliott.

  “Allowing yourself to fall further into debt by having me secure what you stole from Aideen is an offensive definition of friendship, Mr.
Daly.” Julian’s words began gracefully placing nails along the walls of Elliott’s coffin. “Had I known the money you needed was at her expense, I wouldn’t have signed my name on that contract.”

  My eyes, dry from the cold, flickered between the devil and demon, tentatively expecting one to crumble beneath the other’s fiery demeanor. Do it, Molloy. Take him out! Uh…Aideen? The longer I allowed myself to look at Elliott, despite the comforting protection of my savior’s cologne swirling around me while it danced with the blustery wind, and the warmth of his hand against mine, I wanted to throw up. I could have, had I eaten my lunch. Stupid Liam. I think I hate him the most now. Those fries looked amazing.

  “I’m sorry,” Elliott groaned, his cracked lips dropping to a pout. “I’ve tried telling you how terrible I feel, Aid. You have to believe me.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “She doesn’t,” Julian repeated my words, releasing my hands from his and placing a strong arm around my shoulders. I melted even deeper into his side, feeling absolutely nothing within me except for the terrifying sense of safety, of promise. I stole a glance, observing Julian’s expression stiffly placed upon mine. He wasn’t smiling; his eyes weren’t sparkling. He’s pissed. Now this is not a Julian I would like to be around later. Liam? Come back. Bring the fries! I could keep up the act a little longer, hoping it would secure my life for a few more hours before Julian forced me back to his house and killed me through overexposure to fairytale movies or, finally, his gun.

  “Aid,” Elliott repeated my name, the sound burning my frayed nerves. He reached for me again, despite my pleasant restraint at Julian’s side. I thought Liam had the most gall, but now Elliott paid no mind to Julian’s existence and attempted to touch my hand. Big mistake, pal.