Hidden Truths (Truths and Lies Duet Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  “Don’t let the name fool you,” Aris says as he approaches. “My brother prefers pain over pleasure. Isn’t that right, Kostas?” Aris pats his brother on the shoulder, and Kostas’s entire body visibly stiffens. Darkness gleams in his eyes, not much different from the violent look on his face when he tortured that man. “It was our mother who named the restaurant. She’s the romantic in the family.”

  Aris shoots a playful wink my way. Taunting his brother on purpose. I may not like Kostas, but Aris is practically signing my death warrant. In an effort to show I’m not encouraging things, I lean into Kostas.

  “Unless you want to learn firsthand about the pain I prefer, I suggest you shut your fucking mouth,” Kostas snarls, stepping away from me and toward Aris.

  The air crackles with electricity—two storms about to collide. Unfortunately, from experience, I know one storm is more violent than the other.

  Aris laughs as if Kostas is joking, but I can see it in his posture, he’s preparing for the possibility of a fight. And with Kostas, it could end deadly.

  “Oh, boys,” a female voice says. “No fighting tonight. We have much to celebrate.” A beautiful, smiling woman steps into view, and both Aris and Kostas immediately stand down, giving her a sincere smile. The animosity still lingers in the air, but for this woman, they’ve put a lid on it for now.

  Her brown hair is down in waves, and her lips are painted a bright red. She’s dressed in a gorgeous black cocktail gown with a matching pair of stilettos. She looks like the female version of Aris, and I know right away, she’s their mother. She gives each of them a kiss on their cheek, and then she places her attention on me.

  “I’m Nora,” she says, giving me a kiss on each cheek before she steps back. “And you must be Kostas’s fiancée.” She beams. “I’m ashamed to admit that while I’ve heard about you, Kostas and his father neglected to tell me your name.”

  “Oh, my dear wife,” Ezio purrs in a somewhat condescending tone. “I was going to wait until we were all seated to make introductions.”

  He’s dressed in a black suit similar to the one he wore this morning. He wraps his arm around her waist and grins wide. Unlike Kostas’s smile, which comes across dangerous with a hint of seductiveness, or Aris’s, which gives off a playful vibe, Ezio’s smile screams barely hidden malice. It’s the kind of smile that sends chills up your spine and leaves you afraid of what’s to come.

  “This is Talia…Talia Nikolaides.” He draws out my last name slowly, and his grin grows wider, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

  Nora’s bright smile falters for a split second before it’s back and even brighter than before. “It’s nice to meet you, Talia,” she says. “Shall we go in?” She nods toward the restaurant. “We can get to know each other over dinner.”

  What’s there to know?

  I’m a captive on this island, forced to marry a monster.

  The end.

  Happily fucking ever after, lady.

  Rather than going off on this poor woman who doesn’t fit in with these malevolent men, I plaster on a fake, polite smile that would make my grandfather proud.

  “Come,” Kostas instructs, his voice low and commanding.

  Placing his palm against my lower back, Kostas guides us through the door and past the hostess stand. Like everything else at this hotel, the restaurant is over the top gorgeous. The walls are an off white with wrought iron lamps hanging every few feet apart, casting yellow and orange hues onto the walls, making it appear as if the walls are on fire. There’s a large stone fireplace that takes up the entire back wall. The tables are a soft white, and the chairs are all black leather and wood wingback with orange cushions. The floor is made up of red and orange swirls.

  Like fire licking up from Hell.

  Who knew Hell could look so pretty?

  The Devil sure is…

  I know without asking he had something to do with designing this restaurant.

  When we arrive at our table, Kostas pulls my chair out for me. “Thank you,” I whisper, still in awe of my surroundings.

  “I thought you might like this restaurant,” Kostas says, sitting next to me.

  For one moment, he seems as though he might be genuine. As though he’s a dutiful boyfriend who knows what his girlfriend likes. But he doesn’t know. He’s an actor. Not unlike Alex. Difference is, Alex really was the dutiful boyfriend who cared.

  Was.

  Sickness roils in my belly, and tears threaten, but I push them back.

  “It’s beautiful,” I murmur, plastering on a fake smile, because apparently, I too am supposed to play a part. And I’m fearful of the consequences if I don’t. “Did you help design it?”

  His mother seems unaware of the awkward vibe hissing in the air. Pride shines on her pretty face.

  “It was both of us,” Nora admits as her husband pushes her chair in and sits next to her, on the other side of Kostas. We’re at a round table that seats five people, so Aris sits in the empty seat to my right, which happens to be between his mom and me. “Do you enjoy Greek mythology?” she asks.

  One quick glance at Kostas and I try not to shudder. His intense, calculating glare is on me, daring me to bark out what I want to say.

  What does it matter anymore what I enjoy?

  “I do.” I place my napkin on my lap, forcing another smile for her. “I’m studying art at the Florence Art Institute. I prefer the performing arts, but I’ve taken several art classes and have taken a liking to classic mythology.” Too bad I’ll never get to go back and finish.

  The waiter comes over and pours us each a glass of water, and Kostas orders a bottle of wine for the table.

  “Florence?” Nora questions. “How was it you met my son from all the way over in Italy?” She tilts her head to the side slightly, and it hits me that she really has no clue as to why I’m here and engaged to her son.

  I shift in my seat, shooting Kostas a questioning look. I may have studied theater, but I’m not a liar. Am I supposed to just make up some romantic story of how we met?

  Kostas’s hand lands on my thigh under the table and squeezes as he saves me from her line of questioning. “Talia was visiting with her father on vacation. We ran into each other in front of Bernini’s sculpture and debated the story of Proserpina.”

  Nora’s face pales at his answer, making me wonder if she knows more about her dark little prince and her wicked king of a husband than she lets on. She nods, as though she believes her son is a romantic. But she’s half present and half lost in thought. Though her smile is steady on her face, it’s not as bright as it was initially.

  “How romantic,” she finally says, regarding Kostas as though she truly believes that.

  “Yes,” I grit out. “So romantic.”

  I want to ask her if she thinks it’s romantic the way her son defends Pluto in the sculpture. The captor. The rapist. It’s on the tip of my tongue, my inner Nikolaides fire brimming to the surface.

  Kostas’s grip on my thigh tightens to the point of pain, reminding me of my place. He leans over, his lips grazing my earlobe, and whispers, “We can discuss it more when we get home tonight, moró mou. I just might be inclined to show you what else I find romantic.”

  A threat.

  It coils around me and suffocates me.

  Thankfully, the waiter comes over and saves us from this conversation. Kostas orders for me, which might normally grate on me, but I’m too flustered to care.

  The rest of the dinner goes fairly smoothly considering I’m dining with a demon, a poor, unsuspecting woman, and Aris, who appears to be almost as much out of place as I am. The men discuss a new hotel they’re opening up on Crete island, and Nora gives her input when asked. I remain silent, lost in my head.

  While this family chatters happily with one another, all it makes me do is long for the loss of my own. If I were at dinner with Mom and Stefano, he’d be proudly talking about some new securities he’s invested in while Mom gushes
about a pair of shoes she recently bought. I’d order my own damn food and I’d join the conversation without fear of saying the wrong thing.

  And what happens when I do step out of line?

  I chance a quick glance at Kostas. His hazel eyes are sharpened as his dad speaks, but I have no doubts he’s got me locked in his side eye. I’d like to convince myself he’s civilized as he sips his wine and discusses potential property locations with his father.

  But he’s not civilized.

  He cut off a man’s foot and beat him to death with it, for fuck’s sake.

  As though clued into my thoughts, his eyes slide my way, cutting me to the bone. I’ve never met a man who can say so little with his mouth, but scream everything with his eyes.

  Behave.

  You’re mine.

  Buckle up, sweetheart, because this is your life now.

  I tear my gaze from his and gulp down my wine, hating the way heat creeps up my neck. I’m embarrassed. A ridiculous sensation, but it’s the truth. Embarrassed I was born into a family who would sell me like a head of cattle. Sold to a slaughterhouse, no less. It can’t get any more embarrassing than that.

  When dessert is finally brought out, Nora turns her attention to me. “I was thinking since we only have a week to plan your wedding, we could get started tomorrow.”

  The spoon that was almost to my mouth, filled with custard, falls from my fingers and clangs against the ceramic plate. Holy shit.

  One week.

  One week and I’ll officially have been sold to the Devil.

  Lovely.

  Kostas mentioned the timeframe before, but it didn’t hit me until right at this moment. I’m about to become his wife in less than a week.

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  As if he can sense my freaking out, Kostas makes it a point to glide his hand up my thigh and under my dress. My hand flies under the table to stop him, and he glares my way.

  Mine.

  He doesn’t have to say it, because those beautifully horrible eyes do it for him.

  I try to remove his hand, and he releases me, only to thread our fingers together. Like we’re a real couple. This is the same hand he used to kill a man.

  “Have you seen the ring your son bought me?” I ask Nora, using my question as an excuse to take my hand back. Reaching over Aris, I extend my arm to show her the ridiculous rock that sits on my ring finger.

  As soon as I realize what I’ve done, a cold dread settles over me. I’m practically leaned across Aris’s lap—a place I know for a fact Kostas doesn’t want me to be.

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous!” Nora coos. “See, Aris, your brother can be romantic.”

  Aris snorts but doesn’t argue with his mother.

  I quickly shrink back after she’s inspected the diamond and glance over at Kostas. His expression is hard and unreadable. His eyes, though, are blazing with fury.

  Oh God.

  My hand trembles, and he takes it again. This time, I don’t pull it away. I let his thumb sweep over the back of my hand and truly pretend he’s trying to comfort me.

  But silly me…

  The perpetrator doesn’t comfort the victim.

  Hot tears well in my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. My mother didn’t raise a victim. She raised me to be strong and feisty and assertive.

  I miss my mom.

  I miss home.

  “I was thinking we could go in search of the venue tomorrow,” Nora says, pulling me from my near meltdown. “I’ve made a list of the best locations. Kostas mentioned hiring a wedding planner, but I thought it would be fun for us to do it ourselves. There are some gorgeous churches in the area. What do you think?”

  I always envisioned a beautiful church wedding where my soul mate and I would exchange heartfelt vows, and afterward attend the reception filled with our closest family and friends. My husband and I would spend the evening in each other’s arms until it was time to say our goodbyes and leave for our honeymoon. Now, all of my dreams have been shattered.

  I’m living in a nightmare.

  It doesn’t matter if it’s the most beautiful wedding ever put on, it’ll be a hateful shame. A vengeful way to get back at my father. A lifelong sentence for a crime I didn’t commit.

  “Talia,” Kostas rumbles from beside me, a low warning in his tone.

  I don’t know why her sons and husband haven’t told her that this wedding isn’t a romantic union of two people in love, but of a debt being paid, but I’m not going to be the one to tell her. I can guarantee, based on Kostas’s behavior, that the devilish momma’s boy at my side would not like that at all. So, even though I have no desire to plan any aspect of this sham of a wedding, I nod politely.

  “Uh, sure,” I stammer out. “That sounds like fun.”

  “Perfect!” She beams. “I’ll be by at ten to pick you up.”

  She seems nice. Really nice. I wonder if she’s nice enough to betray her own family and help me escape this hellish island.

  “Do you live here as well?” I ask.

  “No, Ezio and I live about twenty minutes just outside of town, in the home Kostas and Aris grew up in. You will have to bring her to visit soon,” she says to Kostas.

  “Of course, Mamá,” he assures her in a gentle voice that’s as fake as my smile.

  We wrap up dessert and I’m spared from any more probing questions. For the most part, this family leaves me out of their seemingly common dinner conversation. All too soon, I’m broken from the most normal situation I’ve been in since I got here, to leave.

  Off to be alone with my fiancé.

  Wonderful.

  Cue panic attack.

  After we say our goodbyes, Aris heads toward the bar. Kostas places a palm on my lower back, guiding me down the hallway and out of the hotel. The night is warm with a slight breeze. I wish it’d strengthen and carry me far away from here. Unfortunately, though, my luck doesn’t hold out, because before I know it, we’re standing in front of Kostas’s impressive villa.

  The Devil’s den.

  And I live here now.

  Terror claws its way up my throat. We’ll be alone. Together. Sharing a bed. Images of what might happen in that bed claw at my mind, causing a hemorrhaging of fear to drown my every thought. One gentle push once the door is open and I’m thrust right into my living nightmare.

  The door closes with a click behind us. He’s quiet. Too quiet. The hairs on my arms stand on end as I anticipate his next move.

  “Relax,” he rumbles. “I’m not going to eat you. Yet.”

  Anger surges up inside of me and fuels me out of my state of terror. I shoot him a scathing glare that earns me a smirk instead. This, I can do. Sparring with an asshole. I did it all the time with my father. As long as he doesn’t pull out his knives or tie me to a chair, I think I can handle this.

  Rather than attack me like I conjured up in my mind, Kostas heads straight for the bedroom. I follow behind, watching as he removes his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, hanging both over the back of the chair. I’m frozen in place as he toes off his shoes and slides his dress pants down each muscular thigh, leaving him in only his briefs.

  I let my guard down too soon.

  Is this where we role play, our own little parts in this fucked-up play?

  Pluto and Proserpina.

  The rapist and his victim.

  “Keep eyeing me like that and I’ll fulfill those dark fantasies rolling through your mind,” he bites out, his intense hazel eyes searing into me. “Every last one of them. All night long.”

  Averting my eyes, I stare down at the floor, frozen on what to do next. He stalks over to me until his black socks come into view.

  Socks.

  So simple and normal.

  That is, unless you’re using said sock to contain a murder weapon.

  His fingers grip my jaw and he lifts my chin until I’m forced to look at him. He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, dragging the flesh roughly to the side.

  �
�This is the part where you get ready for bed also,” he explains, his voice dry and condescending. “Understand?”

  I swallow down the mixture of hatred and fear that have tangled inside my throat. Furious tears burn at my eyes. One escapes and slides down my cheek. He leans forward, kissing the wetness.

  “You have an early morning. I suggest you move.” With those words, he releases me and motions at the dresser before turning his back to me.

  I focus on grabbing my own change of clothes from the drawer, but unlike Kostas, who’s clearly okay with being on display, I close the bathroom door and get changed in there. When I come out, dressed in the silkiest pair of pajamas I’ve ever felt, Kostas is already in bed and the room is darkened. He’s staring down at his phone and it illuminates his face, making him seem darker and scarier than he already is, which is quite a feat if you ask me.

  When he tilts his head up, I snap my eyes down and walk around to the other side of the bed.

  I’ve never slept in a bed with a man before, and I have no clue what I’m supposed to do. He said we’re waiting until our wedding night to have sex, but does that mean we’re waiting until that night to do everything? Suddenly feeling inexperienced and sheltered and terrified out of my mind, I tug my blankets up to my neck and lie on my side, facing away from Kostas, in hope that he’ll let me go to sleep without asking anything of me.

  But sleeping beside a monster is easier said than done.

  No matter how tightly I squeeze my eyes shut, I know he’s there, lying in wait. Just waiting to sink his teeth in and take a bite.

  Just as I begin to relax, I hear him set his phone on the nightstand. The bed moves slightly as he adjusts to get comfortable.

  “You’re shaking the bed,” he rumbles, pulling me slightly into his chest. “Are you crying?”

  “No,” I rasp out.

  He wraps his arm around my front and nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Y-Yes,” I admit, knowing lying to him is futile and stupid.

  “Mmm,” is all he says. As though my being afraid is hardly an interesting thought to him. Then, his grip around me tightens as he draws me closer, his hips slightly flexing as he rubs his very obvious erection against my butt. “Fear can be healthy. Keeps the heart pumping like it should.”