Little Lies

by Elena M. Reyes

  Someone who is loyal will never leave your side in sickness and in health. For richer or in your time of destitution.

  And it’s because I love her with a sickness that I do what I do. What I must.

  My loyalty will break Gabriella and then put her back together again.

  She will never leave me. Not again. Not by choice or circumstance.

  Moreover, no amount of time walking this earth will ever erase how I feel about the whimpering woman before me, thrashing in her bed as she dreams of me. Of the darkness I control, and she will join, but only after I’ve broken her down to nothing. When I’ve stripped her of every ounce of innocence and unleash the demoness that’s crawling beneath her soft, fragrant skin.

  “I’m here, Gabriella.” At my words, a whimper passes through her plump lips, her chest arching slightly off the bed before settling back down. Her legs, though, kick off the bedsheet and I catch a glimpse of the nearly bare pussy between her thighs. The shine of slickness that merges with her cherry vanilla scent, creating the perfect ambrosia. “Fuck, pretty girl. How you tempt me.”

  My mouth waters at the sight, and my teeth dig into my bottom lip, I want her. Yearn to hold her in my arms again and the time is drawing near, but not yet, and this is all I can take at the moment. To hover above her bed while watching. To lightly run the pad of two fingers up her thighs to her hip bone and then pause long enough to draw in another deep breath.

  She’s in the air all around me, her essence pulling me in closer.

  “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?” she murmurs in her sleep, head moving from side to side, and I smile. Soon she’ll never have to wonder where I am or what I want as my need will be tattooed on her flesh for every motherfucker to see. “Show yourself, dammit.”

  Her impatience is a turn-on.

  “Soon.” A promise. A threat. My patience runs thin every single second I don’t have her in my arms. “The world will weep blood before I lay it at your feet. They will all pay for what they’ve done.”

  But first, I have a game we are going to play. A scavenger hunt.

  I’ll leave my clues, and she will follow.

  And for every item found, I’ll gift her the revenge she unknowingly seeks.

  Slowly. Methodically. Painfully.

  Her enemies, known or not, are mine, and I take care of what belongs to me.

  Because my love for her will never be soft or innocent, but it is honest. It’s passionate and cruel to anyone who rises against my pretty girl. So for now, Theodore Astor is useful and brings her comfort, which I’ll allow, but that will only last but so long. I’ll let him watch out for her until it’s time. I’ll let him check the corners of her home—comb through her yard for anything being out of place— while I leave behind traces of my presence that can only be found by her.

  Like the one she’s yet to uncover in her closet.

  Like the small charm I just added to her bracelet.

  Like the black rose I placed atop her mail pile with a note attached while she bathed her dog earlier. The perfect distraction to slip inside and watch for a few minutes, to bring the shirt she left atop an oversized chair to my face and inhale deeply, nearly drowning in her maddening scent. His mischief granted me that moment of reprieve, and I’ll thank him kindly for it in the future.

  Moreover, the police never saw me in her yard through the cameras easily bypassed by its own technology when I hacked the system. They have no recollection of the man that’s always near and watching, of the way I hunt with methodical movements while revealing each piece of the puzzle my pretty girl will soon understand.

  “Long live the queen.”

  21

  Gabriella

  My phone pings from beside me and I look over at the screen, pausing mid-shadowing. It vibrates and then stops, only to alert me once again that I haven’t read it within a minute. Theodore’s name flashes and my heart skips a literal beat.

  There’s something about him that I can’t stop thinking about. An attraction I don’t want to fight off.

  For the first time in my life, I want to be selfish and claim something as mine, no matter the cost.

  Sliding my finger across the screen, I enter my pin and click on the new message, smiling when I read it.

  Be ready by nine. Dress comfortable and to walk. ~Theodore

  So bossy.

  “I’m not going to give in so easily, Mr. Astor.”

  Sorry. Have plans. ~Gabriella

  His replies are instant, and my grin widens.

  Consider whatever you had planned now cancelled. ~Theodore

  You’re mine today. ~Theodore.

  Grabbing my now lukewarm coffee, I take a sip and look at my sketch. The outline for my jaguar is done, I’m mimicking a pose from an animal documentary that showed the animal literally fighting off a gator and then dragging him up onto the shore. There’s something about the design that’s bothering me, though, and I think it might be the eyes. I think they need to be enlarged.

  Another three dots and then a message.

  Don’t ignore me, beautiful. We’re going on a hunt today. ~Theodore

  Putting my sketchpad down, I stand and stretch. “God, that’s good,” I groan as my muscles pop loose after being in one position for so long. It’s a little after eight and there’s time to shower and feel human, but what to wear?

  “Closet first.” Taking my coffee with me, I walk to my room and head straight for the closet. My style is comfy meets artist and paint splatters aren’t outside the norm for me. I really don’t own a lot of clothes without some kind of accident on it, and I release a drawn-out sigh. “I really need to start wearing overalls in there, instead.”

  Skirt? No.

  Dress. No.

  I own a lot of jeans and cargo pants, but neither is catching my attention and after going back and forth between capris and cutoffs, I go with the latter. They’re a blacked denim style with the pockets falling out of the leg and I pair it with a black and white tie-dye shirt that I’ll knot at the waist.

  “My black converse will work just fine.” Tossing the items on the bed, I flick my eyes to my bedside table and let out a low fuck me. It’s now 8:35 a.m. and I’m not even showered. I also didn’t respond to his last message! “Next time, he needs to let me know of said plans to kidnap me a day in advance.”

  In the shower now. Don’t be late. ~Gabriella

  I almost trip in my haste, catching myself at the last minute. The phone pings as I push my hair back from my face, already exhausted and we haven’t even left. Being a girl is hard.

  Another text alert and I open them once I’m inside the bathroom and have the water in my shower running. Steam begins to billow around me while my grin widens. Such a man.

  I’m already downstairs and waiting. ~Theodore

  Although I’m suddenly tempted to stay in and have a drink. I’m parched. ~Theodore

  My response back is a picture of my hand under the water and then I toss the device aside, taking the fastest shower known to mankind. Literally in, lather, rinse, and out without enjoying the pure bliss that is standing beneath the near-boiling water while you contemplate life.

  I’m inside less than ten minutes and have another two messages when I step out.

  Would you forgive me if I break and enter? ~Theodore

  I’ll buy your forgiveness in the form of art supplies and my services as a personal assistant for forty-eight hours. ~Theodore

  “Very tempting offer,” I muse, towel wrapped around my body as I walk out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. Usually, I’d lie in bed and air dry for a bit, loving the cool breeze over my skin after a hot shower, but today I have no time and run the towel down my body.

  It takes me another fifteen minutes to get dressed, perfumed, and then add the tiny bit of makeup I use. Just some winged liner and a bit of cherry tinted lip-gloss to make my full lips a little plumper. My hair though is the one thing I have no idea what to do with, but decide last minute on two Fr
ench braids with the ends laying on either side of my neck and down to the top of my breasts.

  “That’s as good as it’s going to get.” I hope he likes it.

  “You brought me to the zoo?” I ask, a little awe in my tone when he comes around my side and opens the door. We’re at the Woodland Park Zoo and I’m as giddy as a kid at Disney. “Really?”

  “Is that okay?” He knows the answer, though. The smirk on his face says it all. He’s pleased with himself. “Or would you rather go—”

  “You can go if you want, but I’m staying.”

  “Good girl.” Theodore offers a hand which I take, letting him pull me out of the reserved spot near the entrance. We don’t get in line to purchase tickets, but instead walk right through the main gate while employees nod at him. It’s a bit odd, but I don’t ask and choose to believe this is all part of being rich.

  He probably donated money to an exhibit, and they let him in for free. “Which area are we heading to first?” I ask, grabbing a map from one of the tourist stations. “Are we going to begin in Africa and work our way through or...hey!”

  “We don’t need this, sweetheart.” At my perplexed expression, he taps my nose with the tip of his index finger. “I know the place well, Gabriella. I’ve also set us up to have the Rainforest area to ourselves. You’ll have all the time you need to study predators, draw if you like, while I get to watch you in your element.”

  “Really,” I squeak a bit, beyond excited. “That's amazing...” but then my excitement dies just as quick “...wish I’d known. I would’ve brought my sketchpad with me; I was actually working on a jaguar this morning when you sent the first text.”

  “Come with me.” Theodore intertwines our fingers, tugging me along behind him as we walk toward some area of the park. I’ve been here a few times in the past, a long time ago on school field trips, and still have no clue where he’s going. The people around us turn our way, a few murmuring to themselves, but he pays them no mind and doesn’t stop until we reach the entrance to the Rainforest attraction. “Do you trust me?”

  “I do.” Not a lie. Something inside me begs me to, without hesitation.

  “Then you should know I’m a man who’s always prepared, and that includes our date.” My heart flutters at that word. That he describes our little outing with an intimate connotation. “I have everything you’ll need inside.”

  “Still letting it slip you were a Boy Scout, I see.” I’m smiling so big—probably look insane—but I’m so touched that he went to all this trouble for me. “Or is this part of being a CEO?”

  “More like I want you to be happy.” Christ, that answer makes every muscle below my belly button clench. There’s something so attractive about an attentive man. It’s sexier than his looks. “Ready to head in?”

  “Lead the way.” If he notices that my voice came out a bit breathy, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, Theodore walks us into the closed for a private tour exhibit and goose bumps rise as the first grunt of an animal is heard. It’s a playback of some sort coming through the speakers, but it has the same effect.

  The first thing I see after crossing the threshold is a small table and two chairs set up with art supplies atop it. He wasn’t kidding that I’d have everything: charcoal, colored pencils, regular pencils, paints, a few brushes, and even three large canvases sit atop.

  My lips part and I shift my eyes to his. “Wow.”

  “Told you.”

  His smug expression makes me want to pinch him, but I don’t. Instead, I roll my eyes while waving the hand not in his, in front of me while fighting back a giggle. “I definitely see.”

  “But are you ready?” He picks up a leather-bound notebook and a set of mechanical pencils, the same ones I have at home. All the while my hand remains in his, he refuses to let go or doesn’t notice. I’ll also be damned if I tell him. “The yellow anaconda should be feeding soon.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, even though by now I shouldn’t be surprised. “We get to see that?”

  He nods, his amusement clear to see. “Two words.”

  “Private tour?”

  “More like date 101.”

  “The 101 of that answer isn’t a word.”

  Even his careless shrug is attractive. “Well, I’m treating it as one.”

  “Then lead the way, Mr. 101. Seems you’re in charge today.” My sass earns me a wink and then we’re walking, his body always close to mine as we make our way to the serpent area. It’s large and my eyes keep skimming between the different species, taking in their colors and lengths—the patterns that set the venomous apart from their possible harmless counterpart.

  Some glass enclosures are larger than others, but when we reach the anacondas, I’m in awe.

  Completely enthralled and I don’t realize I’m stepping forward, almost standing against the thick glass, until the animal's head snaps up and our eyes meet. It’s curious. Its large body is half lying, lazily, on the shallow water surrounding a rock formation meant to mimic a wild setting.

  No coiling. No sticking its tongue out.

  Instead, the animal lowers its head while Theo wraps an arm around my shoulder. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. You want me to grab you a chair?”

  “No.” I can’t look away from this animal. So much power. So much strength. And yet, right now it seems docile while keeping those dark eyes set on us. Why am I not afraid? “Do you know what they feed it?”

  “From my understanding it’s rodents and rabbits. All pre-killed before being put in the enclosure.” And right on cue, a small door opens, and a metal claw-like stick appears holding a limp rabbit from its grip. The animal is plump, probably fattened up for the snake, and yet the anaconda stays in place.

  They drop the rabbit near the water's edge, causing a small splash. And that does catch its attention, the large snake striking before the pole used to feed exits. Its mouth opens, a lightning-fast move before locking in place and the coiling begins. Tighter. Tighter. It’s morbid to watch, but my fascination outweighs the disturbing sight and I find myself sketching before he begins to swallow.

  My drawing is of a proud animal, head up high and eyes straight ahead. It’s unafraid. Hungry.

  “That’s amazing, Gabriella,” Theodore’s voice comes from beside me, his lips near my temple. “Very detailed.”

  Turning to look at him, I lift my head and almost gasp at how close we are. Our lips are almost touching, and heat spreads across my cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “Will that be one of the paintings?”

  “I think so.” My eyes flick to the animal. I’m a little nervous having him so close, but look away just as quick. The animal is mid bite now, and it’s a grotesque sight. “How about another exhibit?”

  His chuckle fills the space. “More reptiles? Or how about we head toward the ape area.” I love gorillas, but there is another animal I’d rather see more.

  “How about a big cat instead?”

  “A jaguar?”

  “Please.”

  “I’m here to please you, sweetheart.” Heat flashes in his eyes, and they darken for a moment—the length of time it takes a person to blink, before it’s gone—and I’m left wondering if I ever saw it. “All you ever have to do is ask.”

  “No matter the request?” I ask, and the room goes from freezing cold to hot. My body reacts, nipples tightening at the possible meaning, even though his expression doesn’t give anything away. “That might be a dangerous offer, Mr. Astor.”

  “It is, but I’m more than prepared to pay.” Then I’m being pulled out of the snake encounter and we’re walking toward an open-air area that houses the jungle cat in question. He doesn’t say anything and neither do I, but the words still hang in the air.

  They make me smile. They make butterflies appear in my stomach.

  “Ready to have your mind blown again?” he says, taking me out of my thoughts and right back into a present where I’m in front of a beautiful animal with this gorgeous man beside
me. How did I miss us stopping in front of the glass? But more than that, the jaguar in question is standing near the glass lying down and licking his paw without a care in the world. “Meet the real king of the jungle, Miss Moore. He’s been waiting to greet you.”

  22

  Gabriella

  “Avoiding me now, Gabriella. How mature of you.” Elise says just as I lock my front door a few days later. I’ve been holed up inside my studio for seventy-two hours since getting back from the dictionary equivalent of a perfect date. That amazing day where Theodore blew my mind throughout, always so attentive—making sure I had everything at my disposal to brainstorm my next line of paintings for his gallery.

  Moreover, I’ve also been busy getting the base coat done for each. They’ll fall within the same scheme: dark with a gradient effect that will end with the darkest shade at the bottom and that new tone I’d found at the craft store, creating a halo effect.

  So far, they’re perfect after the initial trials—a few pieces that looked horrendously lifeless no matter which way I attempted to add some vibrancy through shades of dark blues and purples. My mind wasn’t in the right place that first night back, still dealing with the insanity my life has become, and it took a binge-watching session of old-school cartoons to clear my head.

  Now, the hint of luminescence coming through within the darkened room and strategic lighting I’ve mock-placed for that purpose jump out of the canvas, depicting a jungle-inspired night with stars on the horizon in the shape of my favorite astrology signs. They’ve kept me occupied, consumed, and I’ve ignored the outside world for my work

  Not a first for me, not by a longshot, but Elise seems very angry by this. Where was she when everything happened and my panic attack right after? But more importantly, how did she know where to find us when I was discharged?

  My so-called best friend was nowhere to be found after our last conversation, and it’s been almost two weeks since then. That time when she accused me of being cheap, a bit pathetic, and demeaned me for still being a virgin. Funny, how is someone with their hymen intact a whore?