Kiss Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 1)

by S. M. Soto

  He guides me out of the glass doors, and like clockwork, a black sports car growls to a stop on the curb in front of us. Baz opens my door for me, helping me in, and just before he closes the door, he leans down, his lips hovering dangerously close to my ear.

  “You look incredible.”

  I suck in a sharp breath at his words, and when my door slams shut, I release a heavy breath.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  When Baz revs the engine and takes off, I try not to fidget too much. It’s just, trapped in such a small space like this, all I can think about doing is jumping his bones. And that should be the last thing on my mind. The first thing should be getting close to him to find out the truth. But his smell, the heat emanating off him, all of it is screwing with my head.

  I lick my dry lips, and as discreetly as possible, I watch him. With one hand resting lazily over the wheel, he drives like a man in charge as if operating such a fast, powerful car doesn’t take much for him. I find it incredibly sexy even when I know I shouldn’t. With his sweater sleeves still pushed up, I can see the barest hint of the skeleton key tattoo peeking out from beneath one of them, and it’s a slap in the face, and the reality check I needed.

  Because at the end of the day, that is who he is. He’s one of them. He’s partnered with them and said they were his family. I know the saying is innocent until proven guilty, but in this case, they’re all guilty until I prove them innocent.

  “So,” I say, my voice splitting through the silence. “What are the plans for tonight?”

  My eyes keep flitting from the dark edges of the tattoo to his face while he drives.

  “Dinner and some sightseeing. Figured I’d give you a taste of LA while you’re here.” He glances at me, reading the expression on my face. “Unless you have something better in mind.”

  “Of course not.” I shouldn’t ask it, but I do anyway. “Did you take all your previous girlfriends on dates like this?”

  Baz shifts against the leather seat. He glances at me, his brows tugging low with reproach. He looks thoughtful, as though he’s trying to figure out how to say what he needs to say.

  “Since I don’t do girlfriends, no, this isn’t the norm. But I have done this before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Ego. Completely. Deflated.

  All his sweet reassurances yesterday? Yeah, they’re pretty much null and void now. All I can seem to think about are the other women. The ones he had at one time taken out on dates.

  How did he feel about them?

  Is it the same way he feels about me?

  Despite our little hiccup in the car, the rest of the evening goes better than I could’ve imagined. Baz doesn’t disappoint on this date, outing, whatever the hell this is. I can’t contain my smile when we get out at the Griffith Observatory. It’s almost as if he knew seeing the observatory was on my list of must-sees here in LA. His resort has an incredible view of most of LA, but the view of the Observatory from there made me long to see it up close and personal. This, this whole entire date has been exactly what I needed. .

  With the sun fading over the backdrop of LA, the smog and the bright rays cast warm orange and pink hues across the sky. Despite my angle for being here tonight, I bask in the view, and in the handsome company, enjoying the light conversation we share.

  I ask Sebastian some simple questions: what his likes and dislikes are. I tell myself I need to know the answers because any detail counts, but really, I just want to know. I want to have a deeper understanding of the man beneath the impeccable suits.

  What was it like for him growing up?

  Did he have any brothers and sisters?

  How did he get into the business?

  He answers every single one of my questions, and instead of satiating my curiosity, his answers only feed it. I am like a fiend near him, wanting more. More information, more knowledge, more time. More of everything.

  It’s getting warm. More than a little warm. And believe me, it isn’t from the exertion of a long walk outdoors. It’s because of him. His proximity. The intensity and heat of his gaze. It’s the way he grazes my bare shoulder with the tips of his fingers. The way his hand holds mine. It’s all him.

  Sebastian King is a pit of fire in my world of ice.

  He’s a contradiction, one I find myself more and more infatuated with each time he speaks.

  We’re both sitting, me with gelato, him with nothing more than his handsome profile, as we look out at the stars and the twinkling lights of the lively city. After dinner, Baz stopped to get us gelato. It was a welcome and unexpected surprise. It wasn’t even a fancy gelato spot, just a mom and pop joint on Sunset. If his goal was to make this date feel down to earth and casual, he nailed it. I’ve never felt more content or at ease with another man before tonight, and I hate myself for it.

  In a lot of ways, LA is like New York. It never sleeps. It’s always bright and lively. But up here, this is what I miss the most about the West Coast. The air, the hillsides, and the nature.

  Sitting up here with the dome of the observatory, overlooking everything, it brings me back to when Madison and I would spend our time up above the graveyard, overlooking everything in Ferndale. I think I’ve stayed so far away from the West Coast to help me forget, but the truth is, I haven’t. Not a single day or even one second goes by when I don’t think about my sister.

  As I stare out at the trees and the lively city below, I wonder if my mom and dad miss me as much as I miss them. Do they regret their choices after Maddie’s death? Or are they better off without me in their lives? Someone who is a constant reminder of everything they lost.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Baz observes, snapping me out of my inner musings. I offer him a forced smile and shrug noncommittally.

  “Just thinking, I guess.”

  “If you’re thinking that hard, I must not be good company.”

  This time, the smile I shoot him is genuine. We stare at each other. The moon, the light from the stars, and the city bounce off his handsome face, making it hard to stare for too long. He really is like the sun. Detrimental for my health, yet the warmth I feel building in my chest when I’m around him makes it impossible to stay away.

  I glance down, severing the connection to get a better look at the tattoo now that he’s sitting so close. For some reason, my throat constricts, my chest tightening with emotion, when I look at the edges of it.

  “The tattoo,” I say, nodding toward his arm. “What made you get it?”

  At my question, Baz looks down, lifting his sleeve up higher to reveal his ink. There’s still a mean scab on the portion of the tattoo that wraps around the back of his arm from his injury. I can definitely see why he kept it bandaged now.

  The expression on his face is contemplative as he looks at the ink. His brows tug in, creasing into a deep, thoughtful frown.

  “Back in high school, our group of friends all got one. It was idiotic, but it was our pact.”

  “Looks kind of eerie.”

  He chuckles darkly. “I guess it does, if you don’t really understand the meaning. It’s supposed to symbolize the reckoning of order, and the eye, it’s a symbol of seeing all. All-knowing.”

  “So you guys were basically into the Illuminati?” I quip, and he laughs. It’s a deep baritone laughter that I feel vibrate through my body.

  “No. Just young and dumb.”

  Playing the part of someone who knows nothing about him, I ask, “The guys you got the tattoo with, are you all still friends?”

  He glances up at me, nodding slowly. “You can say that.”

  Evasive.

  He obviously doesn’t trust me enough just yet.

  “What about you, Mackenzie? I feel like you’re always asking all the questions, and you’re still a mystery to me.”

  “There’s nothing to tell really. I’ve lived a plain, boring life. Even now, sadly.”

  “We’ll have to rectify that, won’t we?” Leaning in, Baz grazes his lips over mine i
n a feather soft touch. It’s such an epic tease that I’m left with no other choice than to kiss him back, pouring my everything into him. Our tongues war with each other, just like my heart and mind. Our hands grope and squeeze like we’re two teenagers sneaking around together, copping a feel.

  When we get back from our date, I place a hand over his warm, solid chest to stop him from coming inside my room. As much as I’d like to spend the night with him again, I think tonight I need to take a step back and record what I’ve learned. And just because he’s had my body countless times and in countless positions, I don’t want to become a passing fixation for him. I need to remain at the forefront of his mind.

  We part ways amicably, and even though he looks surprised by my willingness to head to bed, I know I have him hooked.

  Men love what they can’t have.

  Back in my room, I fire up my laptop and open several of my documents, typing in all the information I’ve learned tonight. And for the first time in months, when I click onto my open word doc, the words fly across the screen—the story I’ve been trying to tell for years finally takes shape. A smile stretches across my face as I pour out the information.

  As I’m working, I can feel her talking to me, and it’s times like these when I feel insane. When I feel like I’m losing my mind because there’s no way she can be here talking to me. She’s dead. I don’t care how much research is done. I refuse to believe twin phenomena is that strong.

  I can feel her glare. Her judgment.

  I slam my hot mug of tea down on the counter and glare her way.

  “Stop looking at me.”

  I glance out of the corner of my eye. She crosses her arms over her chest and smirks. It’s like a blow to the chest because it’s so Madison. I don’t know how to handle the mannerism.

  “You really think you can find a way to stay in his life? What are you going to do when it comes to the rest of the guys? You’re lucky they haven’t realized who you are yet.”

  My upper lip curls over my teeth. “You don’t think I know that? I’m different now. I don’t look the same. So long as I continue being this other person, I can do it—keep up the charade.”

  She purses her lips in disbelief. And I feel myself growing more and more agitated.

  “You don’t think I can do this, do you?” I jerk up rigidly, feeling my temper rise. “Newsflash, Madison, you’re fucking dead, all right? I am your only chance at finding the truth and getting justice. You realize that, right?”

  Pain flits across my sister’s face; it’s the first time she’s ever looked truly pained by my words. “I know that, Kenzie, but do you? You’re changing. I see it. You’re going to lose yourself over this mission. And all for what?” she asks sadly.

  I slam my eyes shut, massaging my temples. “I’m doing it for you,” I whisper, fatigue tinging my voice.

  Madison smiles and shakes her head. “No, you’re not. But I’ll let you figure that out on your own.”

  The sound of my cell ringing drags my attention away from my sister to the bedroom. It keeps growing louder. Until it sounds almost like an alarm blaring. I slam my hands over my ears and drop to my knees, rocking back and forth. My ears feel like they’re bleeding from the piercing sound.

  I glance back toward Madison to see if she hears it, too, but she’s gone. My eyes grow wide, and I shoot to my feet unsteadily.

  “Mads?” I yell over the blaring sound. “Madison!” I run through the suite, but the sound is screeching now. I can’t think straight. I can’t even breathe.

  “Madison!” I scream.

  My eyes spring open, and I jolt awake with a start, my throat still raw with a scream. It takes me a second to realize I’m in bed, and my phone is ringing on the pillow next to me. Pushing myself upright, I shake off the weird dream, the one featuring Madison, and notice my laptop is still open from last night.

  I pick up the phone while simultaneously logging back in. I wince at the splitting headache when I croak a greeting over the line.

  “You never called me!” Kat yells from the other end of the line. I flinch, my head and ears still ringing from the dream.

  Christ. That felt all too real.

  I peek at the time and groan. “Kat, do you realize what time it is here? And why are you even calling me this early?”

  “Well, if you would’ve called and replied to my texts every now and then, you’d know I have a modeling gig today. I’m in makeup right now, and I thought of you. Since you’ve been ignoring me, I decided to call. And stop it. It’s only seven thirty.”

  I cringe. I’d been meaning to reply to her texts and tell her I settled in okay, but between Baz and trying to stay on track with my plans, I forgot.

  I feel horrible, especially since her father is the one who set me up with the room.

  “God, Kitty Kat, I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to settle in, and I lost track of time. This writing piece has been taking a lot out of me.” The lie slips easily from my lips. “By the way, it’s four a.m. here, so no, don’t give me the ‘it’s only seven thirty’ spiel.”

  “Someone’s cranky today,” she tsks. “But I’ll leave you to your beauty rest. Text me the second you wake up. I’m not kidding either!”

  After hanging up with her, I stare at the dark ceiling. Out the windows, behind the curtains, the darkness fades into a soft blue as night fades into dawn. Pretty soon, the sun will start to rise, and the bright rays shining into the room will force me to get up.

  Even though it was only a dream, I still feel odd because it was so real. I felt like I was speaking to Madison. And as much as I know I should probably stay up and write more, I close my eyes, easily falling back to sleep. Hoping that somehow, I’ll be able to steal a little more time with my sister again.

  Past

  “I promise you, nothing happened. I came home last night and showered, and that was it.” I plead with them, trying to get them to believe me, but by the expression on their faces, I can clearly tell they don’t. Because why would one of the hottest guys in school be interested in their chubby daughter? Why wouldn’t he be interested in Madison instead of me? It’s nonsensical.

  I can read the questions in their eyes. Hell, I’ve been wondering the same thing. Second-guessing myself ever since Sheriff Keller broke the news early this morning.

  Was it all just some sick joke?

  Was Madison’s gruesome death truly by my hands? Even if I wasn’t the one who physically killed her, was I still somehow a culprit in all this?

  I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my parents. We’ve been here for the past hour going over the details of yesterday, as uncomfortable as they may be. My mom is looking down into her cup of lukewarm tea, and my dad has his head in his hands, not even looking at me. Neither can seem to look at me, and it hurts.

  “Go over it again. You got to the party with Winnie, then what happened?” My dad demands again, his voice monotone.

  They shouldn’t be dealing with this right now. We shouldn’t be dealing with this. We should be mourning the loss of my sister, not interrogating me when we’re supposed to be healing.

  I can’t wrap my head around how epically fucked up this whole situation is.

  I go over everything again, and this time, my father shoots away from the table. The chair legs scrape along the tiled floor before it’s knocked back, slamming into the wall. Mom and I jump, and he storms away, the door to his office slamming shut upstairs.

  “Mom, I—”

  “Kenzie, sweetie, I—” She swallows, moisture pooling in her eyes. “We’re dealing with a lot right now. I’ve called Grandma and Grandpa. Maybe if you give us time to prepare, to understand, we can talk more and try to figure all of this out, but right now …” She chokes, squeezing her eyes shut as she works to hold back her sob. “Sweetie, right now, nothing is making sense. Your father needs space.”

  My heart drops. That sick sensation in my stomach churns while bile creeps its way up my throat. That fissure in my heart?
It spreads. The pain in my chest? It intensifies.

  “You’re sending me away?”

  Her face cracks, and a tear slips free. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  My own tears start to spill over. Shakily, I stand from the table and narrow my eyes. Rage boils beneath the surface, simmering in my veins.

  “You could try being a mother. You could both try being parents because that was my sister. You’re not the only ones who are mourning and confused.” With those cutting words, I turn on my heel and run upstairs.

  I pack a suitcase, unsure how long I’ll need to stay with my grandparents.

  The entire time I feel like my heart is shattering. The pieces scattering across the floor are unrecognizable now, so there’s no point in putting them back together. There’s an endless void filling my chest. It’s carving my heart with pain and obstructing my lungs with ice.

  I keep closing my eyes, wishing that I could wake up, and this would all be over. I wish it were all a dream, a sick joke I can put behind me.

  I berate myself for how out of touch Madison and I had gotten over the years. Why did I ever let her feel like she was better than me? Why didn’t I try harder? We were sisters; no bad attitude could change that. And now, now she’s gone, with no chance of coming back.

  Madison was always better at handling sticky situations. She knew how to work a crowd and could convince anyone of anything. She was charismatic and always the life of the party. Me, on the other hand, I wasn’t. That much is obvious, even now—since no one believes me.

  When the doorbell rings downstairs, I don’t get up from my spot on my bed; instead, I stare at the wall, wondering what will happen next.

  What if no one believes me? Surely, I can’t be charged with something with no evidence.

  What am I even saying? Why the hell am I even worried about this after my sister was just murdered? I shouldn’t have to worry about any of this. I should be mourning the death of my sister in peace, not—