Tangled IN LIES (Book#3, IN YOU)

by Cassandra Night

  Tangled IN LIES

  book #3, IN YOU series

  Cassandra Night

  Tangled IN LIES

  By Cassandra Night

  book #3, IN YOU series

  Tangled IN LIES

  Copyright © 2019 by Cassandra Night. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either 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.

  Disclaimer: This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. It involves strong language and sexual situations.

  Editors: Jolie Vines from Editing for Authors and Emily A. Lawrence from Lawrence Editing

  Proofreader: Angel Nyx

  Formatter: Rachael Tonks from Affordable Formatting

  Cover Design: Lauren Dawes from Sly Fox Cover Designs

  To my patient husband and my loving boys who inspired me to dream. Thank you for doing everything for me while I’m inside my head. I adore you. Know this: I couldn’t have done it without your support and unconditional love.

  And to my grandma, a woman who introduced me to the magic of storytelling. Thank you for teaching me to dream and hope. This story is for you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Cassandra Night

  1

  Fascinating Bird

  ~Mark~

  The scared boy’s helpless whimpers echo in the dark room and self-loathing breaches every single particle of my soul as he steps closer toward him. His baritone voice resounds, full of sadistic thrill, and my stomach coils. My heart races as hot tears stream down his hollow cheeks.

  “I told you, you’re going to die here.” He throws a cold bucket of water over his battered body, burning with a fever. The boy screams as the shock zaps him, and the monster laughs.

  I wake, drenched in a cold sweat, barely catching my breath as I swing a panicked glance around the room, searching for him. My pajamas stick to my body like a disgusting layer, and I want to shed off my skin.

  “It was just a dream . . .” Huffing, I swing my legs out from the bed and stumble into the shower.

  Nausea churns in my guts, and the nightmare clings to me as I stand under the hot stream. My body trembles, and my teeth clack together as if recalling the sensation. But as the hot water soaks me, I bind the nightmare where it belongs. In the past.

  You are not there. You are okay, I tell the boy I once was. You are safe, I remind the man I am today. As a kid, I’ve seen the depravity and evil side people hide from the world. I know what they’re capable of doing when they know there are no consequences for what they indulge in.

  He survived it. I survived it. But the monster is still free. And he still haunts me.

  No matter how many showers I take, or how physically active I get, he’s able to drag me back into that hellhole he once kept me in. That man is a real monster. Many worship the ground he walks on. If only they knew . . .

  After the shower, I pull on pants and go to pound the sandbag in my personal gym. Sweat drips down my body and my muscles burn and protest as I push myself to the limits. I don’t care, because eventually, my mind will settle down and I’ll regain control. One day, I’ll put that monster in jail and abolish his corrupt empire. One day, he’ll pay for everything. I just need to find enough proof to destroy him before he destroys me.

  I stumble into the kitchen to make coffee, knowing my body will soon go into slumber mode. I’m bone-deep tired, like I could sleep for centuries and it wouldn’t be enough, but I never can. The past still haunts me. Maybe that’s why I push my body to the limits. This way I know he hasn’t defeated me. I survived him even if my heart wanted to give up on me.

  While I brew myself a cup of dynamite, I let music flood the modern kitchen space to soothe my tattered soul and bring some peace to my chaotic mind. I pour creamer and sugar into my dark brew and take a seat next to the window, watching orange and pink hues lightening the sky. The ringing doorbell jerks me back from my daydreaming. Placing my coffee mug on the counter, I pull on the discarded t-shirt on the leather sofa and walk to greet my visitor.

  “Coming!” By the curt ring, I know who it is. He never presses the bell more than once and waits until I answer.

  At the intercom station, Higgins stands like a model of calm and control in his black suit and aviator sunglasses.

  Because of his military training and discipline, I hired him a decade ago. He’s never failed to provide me with intel or maintain his professional attitude. After I realized his potential, I made Higgins the leader of my security team. I trust this man with my life and the safety of my business.

  As if knowing I’m watching him, he lifts his silver head to the camera situated in the corner. “Morning, Mark.”

  I let him in.

  I head to the kitchen, not even bothering with niceties. I have no energy today. Besides, Higgins is not a man who loves chatting either.

  “What do you have for me?” I make him a cup of black coffee, knowing he probably lives on the dark substance. He never sleeps and never rests.

  “Mrs. Cade returned from America with her kids a few weeks ago. Started to look for a new job at the marketing firm where her youngest sister works, but so far, they haven’t made up their minds.”

  Strange. “She isn’t going back to work at the investment bank?”

  A year later, after her husband’s funeral and extensive therapies, she left the UK and moved to Italy to join her sister, Raine, because the paparazzi made her life impossible. I always thought she wanted to mend her relationship with her mother, who lived there too, and be close to her younger sister. But the situation with the media persisted, and after a year she had to leave. Cassandra Cade and her twins moved to California to live with her in-laws, hoping they would help to protect her kids.

  Higgins shrugs. “We don’t know for sure. Do you want me to investigate?”

  I shake my head, pondering why the Cades don’t want her close to their business after she inherited Logan’s wealth. She’s certified, sharp, and able to work with high-investment clients. So why is she walking away?

  “Her twins started at a private school close to her residence, and so far, there was no outside contact from anyone but the Cades, a few work colleagues from the bank, and her neighbors.” Higgins finishes his report.

  “Do you have photos?” I ask, passing his coffee to him. Higgins unbutton
s his jacket and places a yellow envelope on the countertop, taking a seat on the barstool.

  “Yes,” he replies, gulping piping hot coffee, pushing the envelope toward me. “I have plenty. Take a look.”

  My hands itch to look at her pictures, an unseen bond drawing me to her like a moth to the glowing light. Concentrating on the task at hand, I curb the need for now. I never explained to Higgins why I’m so obsessed with this woman, but I’m sure my head of security knows.

  “Do you want me to place a security detail on her?” he carefully inquires.

  “Yes, make sure she’s covered at all times.”

  He nods and pulls out his smartphone, shooting a message to his team.

  “Have you looked into the Middle East situation?” I ask.

  “I’m still investigating. It could be just a random nuisance.”

  I nod, but my instincts say it’s something else.

  That’s why I’ve been working on this contingency plan for almost a year. It would be good to know who’s interfering with my business, though. The Moudi family and I have a history that goes beyond work affairs. Edar Moudi was on the edge of bankruptcy. Then I approached him with the deal that saved his family’s livelihood. I built them up from scratch. It’s unlikely he’d want to hurt me.

  “Check who else they’re working with. Could be they want to ditch us because someone else made a better deal and wants us out.”

  Higgins nods, fully knowing such intricate maneuvers aren’t beyond people seeking to push you out of business.

  “Shall I check Nero Corps’ business agendas, see if they have any interests in the Middle East too?”

  “Yes, keep a sharp eye on them. Report if you find anything suspicious.”

  After we cover the details about other issues, Higgins leaves me, and I exhale in relief. I rake my sweaty hair with my fingers, thinking about Cassandra’s choice to look for a job outside her family’s business. I itch to draw her closer and see if this connection that turned into slight obsession over these past four years is one-sided. Grabbing the envelope that burns a hole in my kitchen island, I spill the contents on the counter.

  The first thing that catches my eye is her chestnut red hair with pinkish strands, spilling over her shoulders, and those pale blue eyes. Sadness, I want to taste. She healed after the car wreck, but some scars she wasn’t able to get rid of even with a plastic surgeon’s help.

  “What are you up to, Lovebird? Why are you trying to escape your golden cage?”

  She doesn’t act like Helen Cade, her pretentious mother-in-law, or like a woman who became rich, and a widow of a magnate’s son, overnight. No, this one is a mystery, full of secrets and sorrow. She wasn’t touched by the family’s dark legacy. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to her—because her soul has been shattered too and still shines bright like a diamond. Or, rather, ruby.

  Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I dial my partner’s number at the publishing house. “Rob. I have a favor to ask.”

  His amused snicker grates on me today, but I take a calming breath and push down my irritation.

  “Yeah, what do you need?” He’s more than aware of my history with this woman.

  “I need you to help me hire Cassandra Cade.”

  “Does she want to work for us?” he asks.

  “She has no idea.”

  “Be careful, Mark. Mrs. Cade is well protected by the family. They kept you away from her for four years straight. If they get a whiff you’re getting close . . .”

  “They won’t.” My tone gets harsh and determined. “She’ll be in my territory by the time they figure it out.” Once she settles in the position, she won’t allow anyone to dictate her life, especially them. She has a spark and pride, or at least she used to. Stroking the smooth photo paper, I wonder what kind of woman she is now.

  “Mark, as a good friend, I need to ask. Are you sure it’s a smart move?” Robert is my best friend, and we built our successful business together regardless of our rough start. He is one of the very few loyal friends I made in my life.

  “It’s the only move, Rob.” I rub my chest as if the phantom ache deep from within responds to my statement. “They can’t keep her in the dark anymore. She deserves to know the truth.” I disconnect the call, knowing my friend will arrange everything so she won’t suspect a thing.

  My pulse palpitates with anticipation until I can almost taste my excitement as I imagine meeting Cassandra Cade in person. I’m curious to see this woman in flesh and blood, to understand why my brother had forsaken our friendship and chosen her.

  2

  Enthralled

  ~Cassandra~

  Agony is a powerful beast—unappreciated, potent, and possessive. It’s pure torment unmaking everything in its way. I have many reminders of its existence. Like my broken bones, aching whenever the weather shifts or I walk too long in high heels. Or, soul-deep agony when the memories of those I loved wash over me. It’s a constant twinge burrowed deep in my soul that could turn into a sharp blade, opening a dark abyss, too greedy to ever leave me.

  Depression has become my companion since that unfortunate night when I witnessed a horrible car accident. I was a happily married woman in my twenties, living in suburbia with two beautiful boys. Life had not prepared me for this unimaginable trauma that broke me, unmade me. Pain imprisoned me.

  I still remember the horror of looking at the mangled car, hearing Nate’s cries. And yet, unable to accept the reality of it all, I walked away. It was a death trap. There was so much blood, glass, and rubble. I knew no one could survive that wreckage. Even me.

  Something happened to me that day. My mind, unable to cope with the truth, altered the memories, trying to protect me. I’d become someone else. A doll that barely functioned. It took me a long time to unravel the secrets my mind held from me. But when I did . . . it crushed me.

  My husband, Sam, survived the crash. But our marriage didn’t. Neither of us knew how to move past this tragedy that robbed us of our children. For a long while, I allowed sorrow to drown me in despair. But then, two years later, I met him. Logan. And my world started to spin again. I thought we’d be happy . . .

  My heels click on the concrete as I walk with an anxious energy fluttering in my chest. For the past four years, I tried to atone for my mistakes, mend bridges and move on. But it didn’t work. So, I looked for a new purpose that wasn’t overlaid with a toxic relationship and drama. I had enough of those to last me an eternity. This job might be it. A new beginning. A chance to start over.

  My phone vibrates in my hand, and I almost lose it as it zaps through my already strung-uptight body. Laisa’s name appears on the screen, and I answer, a little breathless.

  “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Cassandra, I just wanted to say good luck before your interview.”

  “Thank you. I’ll probably need it.”

  Laisa is my old therapist. She’s the specialist Logan, my ex-husband, got for me about six years ago after he noticed I was suffering from severe anxiety and panic attacks. It was a consequence of previous trauma—a car accident—then I lost my precious boys. Nate and Ethan.

  We formed quite a close relationship over the years of therapy. Laisa earned my trust and respect since she helped me to deal with PTSD and other issues. From time to time, we talk.

  “Did you tell your in-laws about it?”

  “No. They’ll try to stop me.” I exhale a breath. “I’m done asking for permission and walking on eggshells around them. I need to think about the future of my children and my own. I can’t let them toy with me like this.”

  That’s why I left the States—to get away from Logan’s controlling parents. And since the media hounds stopped stalking me, they didn’t have any good excuse to stop me from leaving. So I packed our things and went back to England. It was time.

  “You made the right decision. Just remember to breathe and stop thinking about the past. Concentrate on the present.”

  I nod, kno
wing that my past is a deep hole. If I look at it too long, it might drag me in and drown me.

  “Thank you, I will.” I disconnect the call and stare at the approaching building I’m about to visit. Its impressive structure peeks through the park trees, standing like sentinels, protecting the castle of glass and concrete.

  Will they regard me with contempt like so many do?

  How can I blame them? At some point, it was easy to believe in those colorful lies, since media painted such a sinister tapestry of me. It got so bad, I had to move to America, hoping this scandal would blow over, but the situation got even worse back there. Paparazzi were following me everywhere. It didn’t help I inherited part of the empire Logan built with his father, and I lived through a car crash, but the magnate’s son didn’t.

  Instead of being a victim of the unfortunate accident, they managed to brand me as the evil bitch who married Logan Cade for money and got him killed.

  Perhaps because it wasn’t the only car accident in my life. Or loss. Before meeting Aleksander Investment Bank’s CEO, I even changed my name, subconsciously trying to hide the truth I couldn’t face. All that tragic history made me more attractive to the media hounds. My life story became a product of creative storytelling. I can’t believe my luck that Fading Ink’s CEOs didn’t care to grill me about it.