Hidden Truths (Truths and Lies Duet Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “That’s the only way,” I argue.

  The gentleman raises his hand to his face and strokes his stubbled chin. “The scene screams of passion, frenzy, a mixture of tenderness and harshness. It’s the climax of the moment. They’re teetering between hate and love.” Hmm…so he believes that version of the story.

  “She’s trying to get away. She’s pushing at his face, begging him to let her go.”

  “Or maybe she’s just scared.”

  “Exactly,” I say, now confused. Wasn’t he just disagreeing with me?

  “Scared of wanting him,” he clarifies. “Scared of what she might feel. She wants to hate him, but she still wants him. What’s that saying?” He tilts his head to the side slightly and smirks. The simple gesture makes him appear even more handsome. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

  “How cliché.” I roll my eyes, annoyed that he’s trying to turn a serious work of art into an erotic sexual experience. “There’s nothing passionate about this piece. It’s about a god kidnapping a woman and forcing her to be his wife.”

  The gentleman barks out a harsh laugh. “If she didn’t want to remain with him, she wouldn’t have eaten those seeds.” He steps another few feet toward me, until he’s so close I can smell his cologne. It’s fresh and masculine with a hint of danger. My heartbeat becomes erratic, suddenly remembering I’m on this island and standing here with a man I don’t know in the dark of the night.

  “Have you ever been in love?” he asks without giving me a chance to respond to his last statement.

  His question throws me off for a second, but then I nod, thinking of Alex. We haven’t exchanged the words, but I believe I’m falling in love with him.

  “And this person you’ve loved, have you ever been mad at him? Hated him?”

  My eyes lock with his, and I imagine I give him a look of confusion because he doesn’t wait for my answer but instead continues to speak.

  “Hate and love are shared passions. They pull you in and take over your body, your heart, your mind. They are both powerful emotions. It’s why some say the best kind of sex is hate sex and the next is make-up sex.” He smirks darkly, and my stomach knots. “The first is two people who’ve built up anger festering inside of them, which turns into passion and arousal. The second is two people who are still mad at each other but are trying to forgive one another. The anger still runs through their veins, but the love and forgiveness is slowly seeping in.”

  He nods toward the statue. “That is the perfect depiction of hate and love mixing.”

  I hear what he’s saying, but I can’t imagine having sex with someone I hate and enjoying it. That’s why it’s called making love. You’re supposed to be with the person you love.

  “Have you ever been in love?” I ask, turning his question around on him.

  “No,” he states matter-of-factly. “But I’ve had plenty of hate sex.”

  I turn my eyes back to the statue, but I can’t see what he’s saying. The man is forcing her into his clutch, while she’s pushing him away. I just can’t imagine at any point she would enjoy being with him.

  “If you’ve never been in love then how do you know how it feels? How can you compare love to hate?”

  “I’ve witnessed it firsthand. Read about it. You don’t have to be in love to recognize what it looks like. To understand it.”

  He makes a valid point, but I still don’t agree with his analysis. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” I shrug noncommittedly. “It’s late, and I have an early morning, so I better get back to my room.”

  “I never got your name,” the gentleman says.

  “No, you didn’t.”

  His shoulders shake up and down in silent laughter, but he doesn’t say anything else. I turn and walk back toward my room, unable to get what he said about the sculpture off my mind. Just before I get back to the building where my room is, I decide to take a detour. This hotel is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m curious if there are any other statues or décor like the one in the courtyard.

  I take a left and head down a wooden walkway. A few people are walking in various directions. A couple holding hands. A group of people laughing and talking. As I continue in my direction, I hear the light thumping of bass. I follow it until I get to a well-lit area. There’s a pool and wet bar, where at least a dozen people are lounging around. Some are swimming, and others are sitting along the edge of the pool. A few people are sitting on the stools in the water at the bar, having a drink.

  Opening the gate, I step inside and head to the back of the bar, the one on land and not in the pool, to grab a drink. Maybe it will help me wind down and get some sleep.

  “What can I get you to drink?” the bartender asks, and it’s then I remember I don’t have any money on me since I left my purse in my room.

  “I didn’t bring any money. Is there any way you can charge it to my room?”

  “I got this,” a gentleman says. He gets off the stool and walks around behind the bar. The first thing I notice is he’s shirtless and has several intricate tattoos along his chest. My eyes glide down to his perfectly sculpted abs, but I can’t see any farther because of the bar being in the way.

  When my eyes ascend and meet his, I notice they’re a dark brown and match his hair. Both the color of espresso. What’s up with these sexy men on this island? Unlike the guy I spoke to about the statue, this guy’s smile is less deviant and more playful. His eyes, even though the color is dark, don’t scream dangerous, but instead scream light and laughter. Quite the contradiction.

  “What’s your poison?” he asks, holding up a bottle of alcohol in each hand.

  “White wine, please.”

  He tilts his head to the side, reminding me of the gentleman from earlier, and groans. “Bo-ring.”

  A giggle escapes my lips, and I shrug, sitting on the stool he just got up from. “I know, but it’s been a long day and I’m hoping to get some sleep soon.”

  He grabs a wine glass and pours me a drink. When I take a sip, I notice it’s light and fruity. “This is delicious.”

  “Santorini. It’s the best.”

  I take another sip and have to agree.

  “So, what brings you to Pérasma?” he asks, popping a cap on a beer and taking a long gulp.

  “My father…he’s summoned me,” I say, trying, and failing, to withhold the annoyance in my tone.

  The gentleman’s brows rise, but he doesn’t say anything, so I continue.

  “I have no clue how he can even afford to stay here, but I guess I’m going to enjoy it while I can, since I have no choice.”

  I take a long sip of my wine and enjoy the coolness as it descends down my throat.

  “And you?” I ask in return. “Do you work here?” He must be in close with the place to be allowed to get behind the bar and serve me.

  “Something like that.” He winks playfully then pours some more wine into my glass. “I was just about to go for a swim. Would you like to join me?”

  I glance down at my outfit. “I don’t have a suit.” A yawn escapes me, and I cover my mouth with a giggle. Clearly, the wine is already doing what I was hoping it would do. “And I have an early morning,” I say, repeating the same thing I told the other gentleman a little while ago. “Some breakfast with my dad and brother.”

  Standing from my stool, I down the rest of the wine in the glass. “Can you charge the wine to my room? I’m in four-nineteen.”

  His eyes widen a fraction, and then he grins. “It’s on the house.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you. Maybe I’ll see you again during my stay…”

  “Maybe.”

  I wake to the sound of knocking on my door. I glance at my phone and it reads nine thirty. And then it hits me, we’re supposed to meet for breakfast at ten. Shit! I overslept. When I got back to my room last night, the wine knocked me out and I never set my alarm.

  “Coming!” I y
ell. I swing the door open and Phoenix is standing there in a black three-piece suit.

  “Wow, look at you. I thought we were just meeting Dad for breakfast.” I step back so he can enter.

  “It’s more of a business meeting. We’re meeting with the Demetrious. I told you about them yesterday.” He’s right. He did. I just forgot. “They own this hotel…well, really this island. Go get ready,” he instructs. “They don’t do well with tardiness.”

  “Since when do I attend business meetings?” I ask, snagging a simple floral dress from the armoire. Then I pull the drawer open and grab a matching set of white lace bra and panties.

  “Since now, I guess. Go. Shower.”

  After taking a quick shower and blow-drying my hair just enough so it’s not soaking wet but hanging in loose waves, I get dressed. I find various pairs of shoes in the closet, from heels to flip-flops, and decide on a cute pair of wedges.

  “Ready?” Phoenix asks from the living room. “It’s two minutes till ten.”

  “Yes, sorry!” I grab my phone off the nightstand but realize I don’t have anywhere to put it, so I grab my purse, stuffing my phone and room key in it.

  “Let’s go.”

  We walk down the long pathway, back toward the courtyard. As we pass the statue from last night, I think back to my conversation—more like debate—with the gentleman. How he can see anything other than a woman scared and trying to escape a man who is kidnapping her is just crazy. Passion doesn’t stem from anger. It stems from love. I can’t imagine having sex with someone I don’t love, let alone with someone I hate. While the majority of my friends enjoy hooking up, I’ve never seen the appeal. Sex should be intimate with the person you love and trust and want to spend your life with. It shouldn’t be casual, and it definitely shouldn’t be done out of anger.

  We enter the building and there’s a hostess waiting at the door. “Good morning, Mr. and Miss Nikolaides. Everyone is already inside.”

  I’m taken aback for a moment that she already knows who we are.

  “Thank you,” Phoenix says.

  We walk past the hostess stand and enter the dining room, and standing around the table are several men. The first one I spot is my dad, dressed in a suit similar to Phoenix’s. My initial thought is maybe, for the first time, he’s actually gotten himself together. But then his eyes meet mine, and I see the stress and nervousness in them, telling me nothing has changed.

  He cuts across the room and pulls me into a tight hug. “My sunshine,” he murmurs, and my heartstrings tug at the nickname he gave me when I was little. He used to tell me I was the light in his darkness. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please,” he begs.

  “What?” I ask, confused. “Forgive you for what?” What’s going on here? Why is he begging me to forgive him? “Dad, what did you do?”

  I pull out of his embrace and glance around the room. I’m shocked by what—or I guess, I should say who—I see. The gentleman from last night. The man I argued with over the statue. He’s standing there, no longer dressed casual, but in a suit. Unlike the suits my brother and dad are wearing, which give off a formal vibe like one would wear to a dinner party, this man’s screams power and wealth. His hair is gelled perfectly in place, and his eyes… How can eyes so light appear so dark? His jaw is ticking as he stares back at me, as if the simple fact of me existing offends him.

  “And so we meet again,” another voice says, tearing me away from the scary gentleman. The man from the bar. He, too, is dressed to the nines, but even in a suit, he appears playful and happy. It’s almost hard to take him seriously.

  “Dad, what’s going on?”

  Kostas

  I dart my hard gaze to my father, who refuses to look my way. His entire focus is on Niles and the woman. A satisfied smirk plays on his lips. I want to drag my father out of the room and demand answers. What the hell kind of beef does he have with Niles that he’d rope the man’s family into this as well?

  Aris’s brown eyes meet mine, questions dancing in them. As though I have the answers. I don’t think Father would convince Niles to bring his family here just to kill them, but this whole thing feels out of my depth. At this point, I’m not sure what my father is capable of.

  Killing people is a dirty necessity.

  Killing people who’ve fucked you over is imperative.

  Niles and his son, Phoenix, by default since he’s his right-hand man, have stolen from the most powerful family in Greece. They need to pay. They will pay.

  But the woman?

  Glittering blue eyes. Sexy, wavy blond hair. Poutiest fucking lips I’ve ever seen on a woman. Full, perfect tits that strain against the fabric of her dress. Tan legs for goddamn miles. I’m not certain if she’s his daughter, but they look similar enough to draw that conclusion. She’s a spitting image of Phoenix. I want to know why Niles would willingly bring her here.

  “Niles,” my father booms, a wicked smile turning his lips up. “Please don’t be rude. Introduce us to this beauty.”

  The beauty in question purses her full lips together and her cheeks blaze crimson.

  “This, Ezio, is my darling daughter, Talia.” Niles’s features are tight, but he smiles anyway. “Talia, this is Ezio Demetriou. He owns this hotel.”

  We own everything, motherfucker.

  “And,” Niles continues, “these are Ezio’s sons Aris and Kostas.” He flicks his wrist at me like someone might swat at a fly trying to land on his fucking ice cream. It makes me want to break his goddamn hand.

  It’s then that her blue eyes lock with mine, flickering with emotion as though they glow. She’s pissed. Confused. Upset. Hell, I would be too if Niles Nikolaides were my father. Last night, I’d been taken by the blond goddess who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, surprising me with her knowledge of the sculpture. Sassing me—Kostas Demetriou—over the meaning of the art. For a few short minutes, I’d enjoyed a rare moment of pleasure in my cold, hard life.

  Clearly, the time for pleasure has come and gone.

  Now, I’m staring back at the daughter of my father’s mortal enemy.

  And Niles has brought her here to bargain with.

  When Aris leans in to say something to her, her stiff posture relaxes slightly. Irritation coils in the pit of my stomach like a snake. If it were up to Aris, he’d gladly sleep with the enemy, as long as it was fun. Everything’s all about the fucking fun with him. Unfortunately for him, Father has his own agenda, and allowing Aris to bang the woman isn’t a part of that plan.

  “Please,” Father says. “Sit.”

  My father takes a seat at one end of the table and I take the other. Niles sits to my father’s left and Phoenix takes the seat beside him at my right. Aris escorts Talia with his hand on the small of her back to the seat beside me on my left. Once she’s seated, he sits next to her. I can feel her staring at me, her anger at the situation projected my way, but I disregard her with my usual cool aloofness. I glower directly at my father, demanding an explanation.

  It’s what we do—speak without speaking. I’ve observed my father for so long that we can do it without even trying. We’re an incredible team because of it too.

  So why the fuck is he avoiding eye contact?

  But I know that answer. He’s got an ace up his sleeve for the hand he’s holding. My father intends to win this game, and I’m stuck with a handful of cards in a game I didn’t know I was playing. Last night, he bailed before I had a chance to corner him. He left me to pace around the hotel, lost in my brooding thoughts. After breakfast, we’re going to have a good long conversation about whatever the fuck is happening right now.

  I cut my eyes to the left when the servers start placing plates of breakfast down in front of everyone. Even the savory scent of bacon can’t distract me from staring at her. Her cheeks are still pink and a strand of golden-blond hair hides her eyes from me as she focuses her attention on her plate. She reaches for a glass of ice water, a slight tremble in her hand. Poor thing is nervous as fuck.
r />   With good reason, too.

  Niles is a weak piece of shit who’s brought her willingly into a den of wolves.

  But why is she here?

  As though clued into my thoughts, Father clears his throat, demanding everyone’s attention. His eyes are hard as he stares straight at me. Eyes that usually communicate with me are closed off from any sort of negotiation. Whatever he says will be law in his eyes.

  Don’t kill her.

  I don’t know where the thought comes from, but it’s there. She’s too innocent to be in our world. I knew that last night when she breathlessly tried to hold her own in a conversation with me. I would destroy a woman like her in bed. For one moment, I considered pursuing her when she left. Fuck, how I wanted to. But even a monster has limits. Monsters aren’t monsters all the time. Sometimes we’re just hungry men who make decisions with our dicks. For her sake, I decided wisely. I let her walk away, much to my dick’s disappointment, only for her father to bring her right back to me.

  Foolish motherfucker.

  “As you all can see, we’re here for more than just pleasure,” my father says slowly, taking his sweet ass time. “We also have some business to attend to.” He stares pointedly at Talia before shooting Niles a smug grin. “Niles, I understand she’s unaware of why she’s here?”

  Niles squirms, which makes my father’s grin grow wider.

  “Dad,” Talia utters, a mixture of fury and hurt in her one word.

  I clench my fist, wishing Father would have just let me kill the asshole last night. Could have avoided all this shit.

  “Sunshine,” Niles says, his voice weak and whiny. “I’m sorry. If there were any other way…”

  Phoenix, from beside Niles, glowers at my father. Aris simply watches the entire ordeal with amusement. I want to know why the fuck my father would clue Niles in on business while leaving me in the dark. Whatever bullshit is going on will be the last. I won’t sit idly while stuff is flung my way without any warning. My father is going to get the bitch-out of a lifetime once this breakfast is over.