Dark Secret

by Summer Cooper

  It was also the place that shattered my heart and the fragile bond of trust I’d given to Stephanie. Or, Emily, as it would seem her real name was.

  Emily Thompson, aged twenty-six, was the youngest sibling of the Thompson brothers and youngest child of their father. There in black and white was all the evidence, the secrets she’d kept, and the instrument of my doom.

  I’d been fucking a Thompson. Which could only mean she’d been sent to me to spy. Or that was what I thought when my brain finally started to function again. I went through Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and a few other social media sites, and found pictures of her, always in the background. She was always pictured with a child in her arms once the Thompson brothers started to reproduce.

  I scanned the images with eyes that wanted to find some difference, a mole that wasn’t there in the pictures, or a change in eye color that would say that Emily wasn’t Stephanie, that the woman I’d thought I was falling in love with wasn’t a conniving bitch. The face changed, and sadness took over where the happiness had once shone. I didn’t really notice that, though. I just noticed how Stephanie was undoubtedly Emily.

  I sat there, stunned, unable to move. I couldn’t see her wall on Facebook, she had that locked down, and her other social media had kind of tapered off more than a year ago, but I could tell it was her. There was rarely any conversation from her posts, and most of the time, there were no likes, shares, retweets, whatever people called that stuff. It wasn’t something I was interested in.

  It was obvious she’d had nobody to talk to, and that she’d been posting to a world that didn’t care that she existed. Even when she spoke about one of her nieces or nephews, she rarely got a comment or a like for it. No wonder she’d seemed so lonely.

  The question now was, had she been lonely enough to give so much to me to spy on me? I could see Trent, that fucking bastard, ordering his sister to do whatever it took to get information out of me. I still couldn’t understand his dislike of me, but if my suspicions were true then it was more than dislike. The man wanted to do whatever it took to keep me out of his playground. That was hatred.

  I didn’t understand it. I hadn’t done anything to him, and a little competition could be healthy, but yet, the man still couldn’t stand me. Which made me wonder how he could send his sister off to fuck the secrets out of a man like me. He obviously didn’t care about her, or he wouldn’t have used her like that.

  I couldn’t move after a while. I just stared between the television screen and the laptop screen. My Stephanie was actually Emily. A woman whose own family seemed to care little for her. My brain whirled, and remembered little snippets of thoughts. There’d been very few articles about her, and even her Wikipedia page was just a branch of Trent Thompson’s page.

  Daughter of, sister of, no marriages or education to report. Not that I doubted Step … I meant Emily was educated. She obviously was, but there’d been no interest in her life, so there’d been no need to fill in her details.

  My thoughts warred with each other in my head. One side of me pitied the woman who had been so ignored by her own family, while the other was filled with rage. I’d been had, there was no doubt about it. Truly, totally had by the Thompson family.

  I didn’t want it to be true, but why else would a woman like her show up in a place like that? Had Roxie been in on it, I wondered. I could just imagine a man like Trent going to a place like that. I bet he was a regular in that downstairs dungeon, beating on subs until their bottoms were black and blue.

  That made me shiver, because that meant that Trent and I had something in common. Not the beating part, but the domination part. Had he been there the night I first took Stephanie, Emily, to a private room to get to know her better? Had he sent her on her way with a kiss on her cheek and a pat on the head?

  She was so eager to please that night, and I’d just taken it as part of the respect a dom was due. Had I been duped?

  I thought about those innocent gray eyes that had looked up at me from the floor where she knelt, and rage filled me. I’d been had, by one very talented spy.

  Emily

  I couldn’t even call after Dylan when he left me this morning. If he had waited a minute, I’d have signed his contract without even looking at it. It wasn’t worth the worry, the stress, or the arguing to me. All I wanted, all I needed was him, and I’d take him contract or not. He’d left, though, and here I was, alone with the thing.

  I picked it up but didn’t read it before I put it back down. I’d read it later, once I’d come back from the day I had planned. I shoved it in my bag after I got dressed, pulled out my car keys, and headed down to my car. I had a full day planned.

  A woman wasn’t born smooth, and I subjected myself to a full wax treatment before I headed to the hair salon. I wanted a darker tone added to my hair and a new cut. Nothing radical, I liked the length of my hair, but I wanted to be more … windswept, I guessed was the word. More romantic than practical.

  By the time I’d had a few layers of skin removed and had my hair done, I was kind of tired. I went for lunch and managed to build up some energy for the rest of the day. I went to a few exclusive boutiques before I found exactly what I wanted.

  A long, black, satin nightgown with silver threads shot through the black lace of the top of the gown. The satin shimmered and was as soft as melted butter to the touch. That went into the arms of the woman who had come out to greet me and asked if I’d needed assistance. I added a new corset, black of course, with silver embroidery, and new stockings, a garter belt, and the most beautiful pair of panties.

  They were less panties and more like a decoration for my lady bits, but I loved them. The front was a small triangle of black lace with a metal heart ring above the point of the triangle. Stretchy black lace was looped around the heart to create a waistline and near the bottom of the triangle to go around my lower hips and legs. The back was basically an invitation to spank me, or fuck me, because there was no crotch in these panties. Just ribbons of lace that fanned out from another heart ring in the back. I bought several pairs in different colors, because they were just luscious, and I couldn’t resist.

  There’d be no way Dylan could resist giving me a good spanking with those on. I was grinning by the time I found a bra with similar details, and I couldn’t wait to get back to his apartment. For most of my life, I’d been practical. Pretty little things like the panties would catch my eye, but I’d had nobody to wear them for. Until the night I decided to change my fate. I’d bought some of the frilliest things I could find for that night.

  Now that I knew Dylan, and knew him better, I had an eye for what might tickle his fancy. Although, me naked seemed to work well, I thought with a silent smirk of a laugh. I still hadn’t read the contract, but I didn’t need to. It would have the same lines in it, with another month or three added to it, and that would be that.

  The sales woman showed me a few more things, then she took me upstairs to show me some dresses. I found the perfect dress for tonight there, a black bodycon dress that was backless, long sleeves, and the hemline hit me at mid-calf. Panels were cut out on the side of the skirt and along the arms with black ribbons added for a lace-up effect. It called my name, and I added that to my growing list of purchases.

  I had the perfect pair of black Hermès Rumba sandals at home to go with that dress. I made my purchase and then drove home to finish my preparations. I showered, did my hair and makeup again, and then started to dress. I started to feel sexy the moment I put the bra and panties on. When I wiggled into the dress and closed the clasp at the back of my neck to keep the top panel up, I felt even more confident in myself. I added the beautiful set of shoes and stood to have a look in the mirror.

  I was going to knock his socks off. I wanted to bite my lip, but I’d added the pale pink lipstick that he loved the most to my lips and didn’t want to mar it. I controlled the old habit and looked at myself. A year ago I wouldn’t have recognized the confident, beautiful woman in the mirr
or as me. I’d have said she was a model, maybe, or some socialite who had a clue about how to look like a sexy woman.

  Yet, here I was, put together and lovely, even if I thought so myself. It was okay for a woman to think she looked good every now and then, right? And tonight, I looked damn good. I gave myself a sexy wink in the mirror, laughed, and left the house. It was a little difficult to drive with the heels on, so I put on a pair of flats I kept in the car, just in case, and pulled out of my driveway.

  I glanced over at my purse and realized I still hadn’t signed the contract. I’d sign it in the parking garage, I decided, and hit the gas as the light in front of me changed to green. Just a few more minutes, and I’d be in his arms again. I hadn’t dared to dream that this could happen to me, but I’d taken a step, and a step had turned into another one, until I’d finally come to this point. I was about to plunge into a new world with Dylan, and I couldn’t be more excited about it.

  I pulled into the parking garage and parked before I took out the contract and fished around in my bag for a pen. When I found one, I flipped to the back page, signed the space left blank across from Dylan’s signature, and slid the papers back into the bag.

  I checked my makeup, wiped at the corners of my mouth to smooth the line of my lipstick, and got out. I’d put on a long, black wool peacoat to wear in the brief moments I was in the cold air, but I took it off once I made it inside the elevator. The ride up felt like forever as I counted the floors. About halfway up I looked in the mirror, straightened the top of my dress, combed out my hair with my fingers, and tried to figure out why I was so nervous. There was no need to be, yet, here I was with butterflies in my tummy.

  Maybe it was because I’d decided that I would tell Dylan who I was tonight. I wanted my secrets out of the way, so they wouldn’t plague me with guilt anymore. I knew he wanted me in his life, and from the tender moments we’d had together, I believed he was really starting to care about me. I wasn’t so afraid to tell him who I was now, and I knew that would take a great weight from my shoulders.

  I smiled when the elevator came to a stop with a ding, and the doors opened. Show time. I walked into the hallway, twisted my dress into just the right position, flicked away a speck of white fluff, and took a deep breath. With a pounding heart, I opened the door. The faint smell of paella greeted me, and that made my heart melt. He’d cooked for me.

  He’d cooked before, but this told me he knew tonight was special too. It was my favorite dish, and he’d learned to cook it for me, just the way I liked it. I stepped in and closed the door behind me.

  “Dylan? I’m back,” I called out, but nobody answered. I spotted the rose petals on the floor, and my eyes went round with surprise. Oh my…

  I hung my coat on a coat rack just to the left side of the door and put my bag there too. I took the contract out and saw that my hands were shaking. He still hadn’t answered, but I could see the door to his office was closed. He might be on a call. I followed the path of the rose petals and stopped at the table in the hallway. Something glittered and caught my eye.

  I saw two necklaces in black velvet boxes, all lined up. It was as if he couldn’t decide which he’d liked best, so he’d bought me all three. My right index finger smoothed over each one, but it was the knot necklace that caught my eye. Simple, elegant, but so evocative of our relationship. We truly were twisted and knotted around each other, in so many ways. The knot looked complicated, but closer inspection showed it was very simple, also like our relationship in more ways than one.

  I left the necklaces there when I saw there were candles on the table that hadn’t been lit. It would seem I’d come back before he expected me to. I went into the kitchen and that was when something started to bother me. The tomatoes and other vegetables in the pan had gone cold. He wasn’t preparing a meal; he’d stopped for some reason.

  I’d left my phone in my bag, and that was on the coat rack in the hallway, but I knew he hadn’t called me to say he had to go out. I’d have heard it because I left the sound up loud, just in case. No, he must be here. Why had he stopped cooking? Had something gone wrong?

  I saw that he had a music channel playing on the television in the kitchen, but that was no kind of clue. It just meant that whatever had happened had been a surprise. A feeling of doom started to prickle at the back of my neck, and I glanced at the television. There was nothing that came on there that could have caused this, surely?

  “Dylan? Where are you? What’s wrong?” Maybe he’d become ill. Maybe that was why he wasn’t responding.

  My heart flew into my throat, or so it felt, and started to pound in my ears as I made my way to the bathroom, fear a sudden and galvanizing force. I flew to the bathroom, his name on my lips, my eyes wide with fright, but the room was dark. I flicked on the switch and saw it was empty. Relief flooded through my veins, and I made my way further back to the bedroom.

  “Dylan?” He wasn’t in there either. I saw more candles and an amazing amount of rose petals on the bed, which really was romantic, but my heart didn’t calm yet. Something was definitely wrong. I sat on the bed, certain that he was gone and wasn’t in the house.

  Where could he have gone? Oh! I know! I bet he had to go out for something for the paella. I bet he forgot something and had to rush out to get it. That must be what it was. Relief flooded through me, and I sighed happily. Okay, crisis averted.

  I waited on the bed for a few minutes, but he didn’t come in, so I decided to open a bottle of wine to have it ready for when he got back. I went into the kitchen, opened a bottle of Spanish wine, and poured it into two glasses. He shouldn’t have it if he’d had his pain medicine, but if he had, I’d drink it.

  I carried the glasses out of the kitchen and into the living room. It was a miracle I didn’t drop those glasses, because it scared the fuck out of me when I looked up to see him sitting there on the couch. I wasn’t expecting him to be there, and I laughed at my own stupidity.

  “God, Dylan, you scared the fuck out of me,” I said with a bemused laugh. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

  Then, my eyes drifted to the television, and I saw the picture. Ember, so happy and in love, with Kevin and Trent as she left the awards ceremony where she was given album of the year by a very prestigious group. There, in the background where I always was, stood me with one of their babies in my arms.

  I could have said it wasn’t me, that I looked alarmingly like the woman in the picture, but I was done hiding who I was. I was Emily Thompson, not the Stephanie I’d become. Oh, my new self-confidence, my sense of worth, had all been built because of my fake persona, but underneath that name, I was the woman he thought I was. I just happened to be a little more than the stripper he’d taken me for when I first met him.

  He didn’t say anything, not then. Instead, he turned the laptop screen to me and flicked through browser tabs. That pitiful Wiki page, my Facebook page, the pitiful Instagram and Twitter I’d tried to maintain, as a wishful link to the outside world for so long. I’d barely ever raised anything more than a single like on most of my posts, but I kept hoping that one day I’d have a friend, or even a family member, who paid some kind of attention to my life.

  It hadn’t happened. Instead, I now had no family, at all, and it looked like the only man I ever wanted to spend my life with had found out my secret in the most horrible way possible.

  “Do you care to explain this, Stephanie? Or do you prefer Emily? Miss Thompson, perhaps? Miss-you-are-Trent-Thompson’s-sister even? Hmm?” I looked at his face, full of hurt, accusations, and rage.

  I froze in place. All of my dreams had just been washed away. My plans for the perfect night, my hopes for our future, all of it, had just spoofed away in a barely visible cloud of smoke. I didn’t know what to say or how to make this better. I’d hidden it for so long and had a thousand reasons why I had. The accusation in his eyes, the one that screamed I’d lied to him, told me that any answer I gave wouldn’t be enough. If I tried to say to him that I was p
lanning to tell him tonight, it wouldn’t be believed. So I did the only thing I knew I could do.

  I turned, gathered up my things, and walked out of his apartment with my head held high. Inside, my heart was broken into so many pieces I knew it would never be put back together again.

  LIAR LIAR…

  It’s only a matter of time before Dylan finds out that Emily is a Thompson. It was naive of her to think she could hide her real identity forever. But she has never had anyone care about her the way Dylan does…

  Will Emily be able to keep Mr Dark, even for just a little longer?

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  SUMMER COOPER

  DISCOVER THE WILD GIRL IN YOU

  Besides her love of chocolate, dogs and music… reading and writing is Summer’s number one route to escape from crazy friends, family and the in-laws!

  She found her own happily ever after with a martial arts fighter who also happens to be an adorable IT geek! Now, she loves to write about hot alpha males that come with a pretty face and covered in tough-as-nails muscle... who are secretly looking for their true soul mate (shhh…)!

  Visit her website at

  www.summercooper.com

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  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Full Page Image

  Contents

  1. Emily

  2. Dylan

  3. Emily

  4. Dylan