Bury Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 2)

by S. M. Soto

  With one last look at myself in the mirror, I grab my cell and the Chanel clutch that Baz bought for the evening and stuff everything I’ll need into the small, overpriced bag. It’s too small to fit the gun, so obviously, I leave it behind, hoping like hell I won’t need it tonight.

  The drive isn’t too long from the resort to wherever we’re headed. We don’t head into the city like I expected, but instead, we drive farther and farther away from the vibrancy of downtown LA to the Holmby Hills where the rich live. Dan pulls to a stop in front of a mansion that extends on for what seems like miles, taking my breath away. The grandeur makes my heart pound, and my stomach churn in equal parts.

  A marble fountain rests in the center of the circle drive where expensive cars are currently parked. There are men dressed in tuxedos, standing out front, guarding the massive doors. I glance around at the couples and groups of men walking from their lavish vehicles up to the doors.

  “Where’s Baz?”

  “Already inside.”

  I swallow. The thought of walking inside alone doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve always had Baz at my side for these events. He was my silent support when I’d never admit aloud that I needed it, but now that I’ll have to walk in alone, it’s making me sick with anxiety just thinking about it.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I reach for the door handle, but something stops me. Fear claws its way up my throat. I look back at Dan for confirmation.

  “Am I in danger?” I ask, my voice trembling with fear.

  His face softens for a second, putting me at ease. “Mr. King would never put you in danger.”

  “That’s debatable,” I mumble under my breath as I climb out of the car. I half expect him to walk me to the doors, but he doesn’t. He leaves me to my own devices. Knowing Baz and how much of an asshole he is, I’m sure that was done on purpose. This whole night is meant to make me uncomfortable and feel off-kilter.

  My heels click along the pavement, and my legs are trembling so badly, I’m surprised they don’t give out on me. Once I get to the looming wooden doors, one of the men wearing a tuxedo stops me.

  “Name?”

  “Mackenzie Wright?” It comes off as more of a question, but it still works. He opens the door for me, and I gasp. The inside of the mansion is magnificent. It’s all dark woods, with bright glittering chandeliers and famous artwork displayed on the walls. It screams wealth. Old money.

  I pause just inside the foyer, clutching my purse to my body, looking around for any sign of Baz. I feel eyes on me. People who are milling about, with flutes of champagne in their hands, watch me with morbid curiosity. It’s as if they know I don’t belong here.

  I startle when I feel a warm hand glide around my hip from behind. Even though I don’t want to, I settle into the familiar hold, using his firm body to pull myself together and draw strength from. Sucking in a lungful of air, I get a whiff of everything that is Baz, and my pounding heart slows.

  “Glad you could follow directions,” he muses near my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I grimace as I look around, trying to figure out what the fuck is happening.

  “What is this place?” I whisper under my breath, as I continue to people watch.

  “You’ll see,” he murmurs vaguely. He guides me in step beside him as he stops for conversations with men around the great room. The chatter is loud, indicating a large number of people here tonight. For what, I’m not entirely sure. It doesn’t escape my notice, the way some of them stare at me much too long. Their leering eyes linger on my breasts and the open slit of my dress far too long to be considered appropriate. Baz doesn’t say anything, but he does tighten his grip around me when it happens, so I know he notices it.

  “The great Sebastian Kingston. Back so soon?” An older gentleman, maybe about the age of my father, comes up to us, putting his hand between us for Baz to shake. He’s dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that has satin lapels. His salt and pepper hair is slicked back, revealing his striking features. He reminds me of an even more distinguished George Clooney, if that’s possible. He has a slight accent that tells me he’s likely not from the States.

  “Pierre. Good to see you. Thank you for having us.”

  At the mention of us, Pierre looks my way, taking me in. “Is this her? My, my Sebastian, you certainly are a lucky man. C’est une beauté.”

  Redness rises to my cheeks, and I dart my gaze away, uncomfortable with the way he’s looking at me. I may not speak French, but I get the gist of what he’s saying. “Je suis vraiment chanceux. Ella est á moi.” Baz’s deep voice rolls through me in waves, taking my breath away. He’s mentioned he can speak multiple languages, but hearing him speak French, too? My core clenches then throbs violently. The sensation is so unsettling, I set my free hand over my stomach, trying to gather my wits. “Mackenzie, this is Pierre Chalamet. Pierre, this is my girlfriend, Mackenzie Wright.”

  I jolt at his words. His hand tightens on my hip, obviously a warning for me to keep my cool. It would’ve been nice to get a heads-up. I had no idea he was telling people I was his girlfriend. Pierre smirks.

  “Ah, yes. The good ones always go first, don’t they? It’s nice to meet you,” he says, shaking my hand. “You’ll stick around for the show later?”

  Baz nods while I frown. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Are you wanting your regular room for the night?”

  My frown deepens thoughtfully when Baz nods again, already moving on from his conversation with Pierre to the next group.

  “Give me a second. I’ll be right back,” he whispers near my ear, letting his lips graze the shell seductively, sending yet another tremor down my spine.

  What the hell is going on? A room, a show? Where are we?

  I stand around dumbly, waiting on Baz to come back. A startled yelp falls from my lips when a man stands beside me to introduce himself. He takes my hand in his, his grip tight, making it so I’m unable to wrangle myself free. He’s speaking to me, saying something, but with the blaring alarms going off in my head, I can’t seem to focus. Once he begins toying with my hair, I start to worry, glancing around, wondering where Baz is.

  Relief courses through my system when I hear a sharp, pained breath and turn to find Baz with his hand cuffed tightly around the back of the man’s neck. Baz bends low, keeping his icy gaze fixed on mine, as he says something under his breath only the two of them can hear. When he pulls away and the guy goes skittering off, without so much as a glance back at me, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  That relief soon turns into wariness as I stare at Baz. What the hell was that?

  What did he tell him to make him run like that?

  Once we have a little break from introductions and talking mindlessly with other guests, I pull Baz aside and demand to know what’s going on.

  “That was weird, Baz. This whole place is weird. Can you please just tell me what is going on?”

  He stares down at me, our eyes having their own silent conversation without our permission. Suddenly, a bell chimes throughout the lower level of the mansion. Everyone starts whispering, then disappearing into the hall that I’m assuming leads to another room.

  “Just in time for the show.” Downing the rest of his drink, he takes my hand and leads the way. My palm is sweating profusely in his. I don’t know what’s happening, and the fact that he’s remaining secretive about tonight doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.

  The dimly lit hallway does, in fact, lead to a room. It’s a ballroom of sorts, but what hits me with confusion then horror is the four-poster bed front and center. Everyone surrounds it, and my grip tightens on Baz’s arm, a sick feeling brewing in my gut.

  “What the fuck is this?” I hiss, as he stops near the foot of the bed.

  “Just watch.”

  And I do. A couple seems to appear from thin air, and she strips off her gorgeous red dress while the crowd watches, not an ounce of shame in her body. I watch with rapt fascination and horror as the couple gropes and caresses in
front of the crowd. I expect it to get raunchy and turn into a porn show where the members in the crowd start touching themselves or their dates, but much to my surprise, they just stand back and watch, completely transfixed.

  When he said show, I get it now. It’s not just sex. The way the couple moves together is a synchronized dance, practiced to perfection. It’s beautiful and titillating. It’s not meant to make you jump the person’s bones next to you; it’s just meant for you to visually enjoy.

  When the man takes her nipple into his mouth and his hand strokes between her legs, my breath hitches. Something warm curls down my spine and swirls in my belly. Baz steps closer into me. There are warring emotions raging inside me. I want to be offended and grossed out by what I’m watching—a couple having sex before me—but I’m not. If anything, it’s quite the opposite. When the man slides inside her from behind, her spine arched beautifully, her head tossed back, I gasp as my core throbs almost painfully.

  I shake my head and try to turn away from the show, but Baz keeps me held in place. He bends near my ear.

  “What’s the matter, Dirty Girl?”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “I think you do,” he whispers. The man picks up his tempo, and the woman’s moans get louder. Slowly, couples begin to break off around us. Some stick around for the entirety of the show, but I do everything I can to get away. I feel like I’m on the verge of combustion, and I hate myself for it.

  “You said you wanted to win your freedom back? That you want things to go back to normal. This is the normal, Mackenzie,” he breathes out in my ear, a dark edge to his tone.

  I fight back tears and try not to glance around and gawk at what’s happening around me. This isn’t him. The fact that I’ve driven him to this…it breaks something inside me. Something fundamental in us.

  Our relationship was built on lies. It crumbled because of the lies. And now, he’s giving me a chance to change all of that. Whether I like it or not. But how far am I willing to go for that freedom? That is a question I am too afraid to answer, even in the security of my head.

  I hightail it out of the room, pushing through fellow spectators who are standing around, still watching. With my heart pounding violently in my chest, I head straight for the exit, but Baz grips me by the waist and whirls me down a darkened hall, cornering me in an empty section of the mansion.

  “Is this what you like? Some sick sex club bullshit?”

  “I don’t particularly enjoy it. This is what the rich and elite do, and it’d be rude to turn down an invitation.”

  “He said ‘back so soon,’ so you obviously have a regular room here. What does that mean?” My chest is heaving as I ask. My stomach is churning in an unsettled motion. I don’t want to imagine him having sex with any of the women here. I can’t compete with that.

  “I can show you.”

  He stares down at me, waiting for me to make up my mind. He sees it in my face before I even have to voice it. Taking my hand in his, he leads the way down the dimly lit hall that is so silent, each of our footsteps echoes around us ominously. He opens a heavy looking ornately carved wooden door at the end of the hall. The room is huge. Another four-poster bed is here, accompanied by an incredible view of the mansion’s sprawling grounds.

  “So, you stay here and do what?” There’s a tremble in my voice as I ask. I’m tentative as I walk around the room, taking everything in. There’s a chair in the corner, facing the bed, and when Baz takes a seat there and leans back, appraising me, the hairs at my nape stand at attention. Realization settles in.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’m not fucking your friends. If that’s what you think.”

  My chest squeezes. He said he’d never do that to me. My, how times have changed.

  Baz chuckles. The sound is like gravel. Deep and raspy. “No one is going to touch you, Mackenzie.”

  I frown. “Oh.”

  I try to hold on to my anger and keep the pain out of my voice, but it shows through anyway. “What do you come here for then?”

  He sits there watching me, likely gauging what my reaction will be to this news. After a beat, he shrugs, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  “To watch, mostly.”

  I shake my head and scoff. “You expect me to believe you come here and don’t fuck anyone? You get this room and watch?” My lips press together in a grim line. “You’re lying.”

  “Contrary to what you believe, there’s only one woman I want to fuck. And she’s the only one standing in this room.”

  A violent shudder ripples through my body, taking my breath away. My stomach dips and perspiration litters my forehead.

  I clear my throat, glancing around the room, not sure I can look him in the eye just yet. “Why bring me here then? You could’ve done this at the penthouse.”

  He shrugs. “Two birds, one stone. I had a meeting with Pierre. He invited us. I thought you might take interest.”

  I laugh, but it’s without humor. “You really thought I would enjoy any of this? Do you know me at all? I don’t get off on watching others fuck each other.” Baz chuckles, more to himself than anything, shaking his head at me.

  “Oh, but Dirty Girl, I think you do. I think you like watching. I could smell you in that room. Your arousal at just watching them fuck. Your body leaned into me when he took her tits in his mouth. When he stroked his cock inside her, your breathing changed. Just like now, your eyes are dilated. Because you’re my Dirty Girl, Mack, and you like it.”

  Shame turns my cheeks pink, and I look down at the floor, my eyes riveted on my heels. I close my eyes, sucking in a shaky breath that rattles my chest.

  “Fine. So what? It’s human nature to be turned on. Fucking sue me.”

  Baz smirks, knowing he’s got me exactly where he wants me. This isn’t something I’d ever admit out loud, let alone to anyone else, and he knows that. That’s just the effect Baz has.

  “I need you to be honest with me now, Mackenzie, or forever hold your peace. Do you want to leave? This is your chance.”

  I should say yes. I know I should. But instead, I swallow and shake my head. It feels like I’ve just sentenced myself to death.

  Baz gives me a breathtaking smile. It travels all the way down to my core. I’ve missed that smile.

  “How far are you willing to go to win back your freedom, Mackenzie?”

  Slowly, the color drains from my face. “You said that wasn’t what I was here for,” I grit. “If you’re going to whore me out, fuck me with those disgusting rich assholes in there, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  His jaws clenches. “That’s what you think? You think I’d let another man fuck you while I stand around and watch?”

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  His eyes narrow, and he pushes up from the chair, stalking toward me. “You’re mine, Mackenzie. Whether you want to be or not. That means I say when and how I fuck you. That means that pussy belongs to me. Understand? Now, tell me, do you still want to leave? Last chance.” He grits the last part, like he’s barely restraining himself.

  “No,” I whisper, sealing my fate.

  Just then there’s a knock on the door. He doesn’t even say come in, but the door opens anyway and in walks a beautiful strawberry blonde. She’s a willowy woman with gorgeous curves and a bone structure I would kill for. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, and just the sight of her has my heart shriveling in my chest. I imagine all the ways she and Sebastian rolled around in this bed together. I hate it. I hate her. And it makes me hate him a little more than I already do.

  Suddenly, the feeling of insignificance hits me. I build a solid wall around my heart, shielding myself from further pain.

  The woman walks in, pauses, her gaze trailing up and down my body and then pausing on Baz. My hands curl into fists and I turn to Baz with narrowed eyes. “You want to have a threesome? Are you fucking kidding?”

  Baz has the gall to laugh, but he shakes his head. “I thought you didn’t care w
ho I fucked?” he taunts. My lips thin into a grim line.

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh, really?” he challenges. When he jerks his head and the willowy woman saunters toward him, I bite down on my tongue. I want to scream and rage, but I stay in a perilous state of silence, keeping my body stock-still, looking discontent.

  “I don’t give a shit,” I hiss, trying to pretend this doesn’t bother me. As if watching this woman run her hands all over my man won’t bother me. She starts at his forearms, gliding her hands up and around his strong shoulders. My lungs restrict air when she presses up against him, stroking her body with his. I watch on, an inferno brewing inside me, as I pretend it doesn’t bother me.

  But I can’t.

  “Stop.” My voice comes out sharp, prompting both of their gazes to swing in my direction. Baz’s eyes glimmer victoriously. He got what he wanted. Hammered out my admittance that I still care about him. That I still want him.

  He brushes the woman off him and inches toward me, closing in. And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I glance down at his trousers, expecting to see an erection after the way she was grinding her beautiful body on him, but much to my surprise, there’s nothing.

  He stops a few inches in front of me, meeting my gaze. “By any means?” he whispers, a dark edge in his tone. I meet his stare. The bright color of his eyes is a shock to my system. They’re intensely seductive yet filled with peril. I shoot him my own defiant, challenging glare.

  “By any means.”

  He rolls his shoulders back, standing upright, still looking down at me. The fluid movements stop, and he pauses, deep in thought. Baz looks back at the gorgeous redhead, though no words are exchanged. She nods her head and smiles, understanding their silent conversation. Slowly, she starts stripping out of her dress, her beautiful, voluptuous body on full display, as she runs her hands down her body, over her breasts, toying with herself.