Hidden Truths (Truths and Lies Duet Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  “You’re acting like an old man who needs a nap.” I narrow my eyes at my father. “Does the doctor need to change your medications? It’s unlike you to snap and lose your cool in front of the ladies.”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about your fake wife and your brother’s whore,” Father rages. “I want to know what’s going on with my businesses!”

  Rising from my chair, I shake my head. “We’ll talk when your head is clear,” I say in a placating tone. Then, to Aris, I order him to stay. “Keep Father company through dessert and then see to it he’s put to bed early. I’ll call Dr. Newman in the morning.”

  Father huffs and puffs but wisely shuts his mouth as I escort Talia from the dining room. When we make it back outside, I let out a breath of relief. Slowly, I’ve had to take over in all aspects. It’s what I was trained to do. Of course, we didn’t expect for me to take over so soon, but that was before my mother offed herself and nearly took out my father in the process. Now, I’m forced into the position, but I’m ready. And I can’t allow my invalid father to keep calling the shots from his bedroom. The Demetriou name has ruled efficiently and powerfully because we are an active participant in our business dealings. We don’t send men to do the jobs we can easily do ourselves. My father is beyond that. He’s no longer the King of Crete. I am.

  “You okay?” Talia asks, stopping in front of Aris’s car.

  “Better now,” I admit, brushing a strand of blond hair from her face.

  “Good.” She stands on her toes and plants a kiss on my mouth.

  I nip at her lip and grab her ass through her dress. “Be better if I were inside of you.”

  Her blue eyes darken with lust. “No one’s stopping you.”

  A shriek escapes her when I lift her by gripping the globes of her ass. Her legs hook at my waist, and her hands latch at my neck.

  “I’ve always wanted to fuck you on the side of my brother’s precious car,” I rumble, nipping at her jaw and then tugging at her earlobe with my teeth. “You going to let me fuck you on his pretty Porsche?”

  Her answer comes in the way of her unbuckling my slacks. I smirk as she pulls my cock into her hand.

  “It’ll have to be quick, zoí mou. He’ll have a shit fit if he catches us out here doing this.”

  “You’re the one stalling, Kos.”

  I grin wolfishly at her. “Pull your panties to the side and show me how wet you are.”

  With her eyes fiery with desire, she pushes up her dress and tugs at the tiny scrap of blue panties revealing her pink center. In the moonlight, her cunt glistens with her need. Nice and juicy, ready to take my cock. Greedy girl. I tease her opening with the tip of my cock until she’s squirming, begging for every hot inch. Without warning, I push hard into her with a forceful thrust.

  “Kostas!”

  “Shhh,” I rumble. “You’ll get us caught. I don’t want to have to slit my own brother’s throat for accidentally seeing my wife’s pussy.”

  Her cunt clenches around me, encouraging me to pound harder into her. I grip her breast hard through her dress as I ravish her mouth with mine. I devour each needy moan until she’s trembling with a near orgasm.

  “Put your foot there,” I instruct, nodding to the hood of the car right beside us. “I want your pussy wide open so you can take every inch, Talia.”

  She unpeels her leg from my waist and spreads herself. I grip her knee and push it, stretching her. The heel of her shoe finds purchase on the hood. Her head tilts back as she breathes heavily.

  “I’m so close,” she moans. “Touch me.”

  Her hand holding her panties to the side trembles. I reach between us and finger her needy nub that’s warm to the touch. My cock slides in and out of her easily as she becomes juicy as fuck.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” I growl, pinching her clit.

  “Mmm,” she moans. “Oh, God. So close.”

  I rub her until she spirals out of control. Then, I slam into her hard. Over and over and over until she’s clawing the shit out of my neck and her arousal is soaking me. She shudders again, signaling another climax, which sets me off with my own. I groan as my cum jets deep inside her. The moment my dick stops twitching, I slide out of her heat and pull away.

  What a fucking sight.

  My wife spread open with my cum running down her thigh, her eyes hooded with lust. I step closer and bend so I can run my fingers through our combined juices running down her leg. Slowly, with my eyes locked on hers, I run them back up her leg to her pussy. She lets out a sharp gasp when I push the cum back inside her.

  “It belongs right here,” I growl. “Right fucking here.”

  She bites on her bottom swollen lip and nods.

  “Now put your panties in place like a good little wifey and keep my cum inside you.”

  Her fingers release her panties and then she adjusts them so they cover her again. I hook my arm under her knee and ease it down so that her feet are once again planted on the pavement. Her entire body trembles.

  “Oh, naughty Talia,” I rumble, glancing at the hood of my brother’s car. “You’ve scratched his car.” Gouges from the heel of her shoe mar the shiny surface. He’s going to be so fucking pissed.

  Her eyes flash with evil wickedness I’m sure she’s learned from me. “Oops.”

  I grip her jaw in a punishing grip and kiss her hard until she’s panting and clawing at me for more. Pulling away slightly, I grin at her.

  “Are we going to fuck on your car next?” she purrs, her voice breathless.

  “My car cost a helluva lot more than his.” I stroke her hair. “But you can suck me off on the way home, dirty wife.”

  “And then you can have your dessert by the pool when we get home,” she challenges back.

  I reach between us and feel her up, loving how soaked her panties are as my cum drains out of her.

  “A good marriage is about compromise,” I tell her with a sinister smile. “And we’re getting really fucking good at it.”

  Talia

  “Looks like you’ve been busy.” Aris steps through the doors of Pomegranate and eyes the place speculatively. My gaze follows his, trying to see through an outsider’s eyes the finished restaurant. The rich crimson, dark brown, and black color scheme flows throughout the place. Mahogany tables and chairs matched with blood red centerpieces, which hold tiny candles that flicker against the dark walls, giving it a sensual and mystical feel. A large cut-open pomegranate custom designed and created out of crystal and wrought iron is hung on the center of the back wall to represent the symbolic meaning of the restaurant’s name. It’s hung just above the large stone fireplace, which was created to give the restaurant a warm and cozy feel to it.

  “I gotta be honest,” he continues, assessing the expansive bar just off the dining room, “I didn’t really think you’d be able to pull it off, but it seems I underestimated you.” His eyes land on mine, his one brow rising in a challenging way.

  Every time Aris speaks to me, as if he hadn’t forced himself on me only a couple short months ago—stealing the most precious part of myself, as if it were his to steal—my stomach roils in disgust. Instead of meeting with him, like he advised, I managed to find a loophole by sending weekly emails to update him. I was shocked when I sent the first one and he replied with a simple “Thank you.” My only thought is maybe having Selene around is keeping him occupied. I’ve seen them around the hotel on several occasions: having a drink at the bar, coming and going out of Aris’s villa, going out to dinner at the restaurants on the grounds—Kostas and I even got roped into joining them once. Yuck! Maybe he’s done antagonizing me. It would definitely make things easier if that were the case. Nothing is harder than trying to move forward with Kostas, while having his brother lurking in the shadows.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Aris, ignoring his backhanded compliment. With the restaurant set to open in less than two weeks, I’m meeting Rosie, who I’ve hired to manage the restaurant, and Angelo, the head che
f, to finalize the menu. I could’ve left it up to Rosie to handle it since she’s more than capable, with twenty years of restaurant management experience under her belt, but Pomegranate has become my baby, and I want to see it through to the final detail.

  “Do I need to remind you that this restaurant is owned by the Demetrious, and therefore obligates me to make sure it meets the standards our name represents?”

  I should’ve known when I emailed Aris to let him know the restaurant is done, and that I would be confirming the menu today for opening night, he would show up.

  “My brother may be pussy-whipped and not care what you do,” he continues, “but I’m not waiting until opening night to make sure everything is in order.”

  My stomach heaves at the mention of the word pussy out of Aris’s mouth, but I choke it down. I need to get this meeting over with and then I can go home to my husband and get lost in him, erasing every part of Aris once again from my mind.

  Just as I’m about to tell him to go fuck himself, the door opens again, and in walks Rosie, dressed in a professional royal blue pantsuit. Her heels click-clack against the wood floor. She smiles wide at me and waves as she approaches Aris and me.

  “I hope I’m not late,” she says, glancing at Aris, who is now standing by the table where my tablet and cell phone are at. I was working on a couple final details while I was waiting for Rosie to arrive and the chef to finish.

  “Nope, you’re right on time.” I want nothing more than to pretend Aris isn’t here, but when he clears his throat, silently indicating to make introductions, my manners win out. “Aris,” I say, gesturing toward the man I despise, “this is Rosie, the restaurant manager. Rosie, this is Aris, the bookkeeper.”

  Aris’s nostrils flare at my little dig. Everyone knows how jealous and resentful he is toward Kostas, especially since Kostas has formally taken over the entire organization in his father’s indefinite absence.

  “Aris, is there anything else you need?” I ask, hoping he’ll get the hint and leave.

  “Nah.” He tilts his head to the side slightly and swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, hitting me with a hard stare. My stomach knots, worried I’ve crossed the line and angered the beast.

  He smiles, his signature boyish smile I once upon a time fell for, walks around the table, and pulls my chair out for me. “If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll stay to try the food. I haven’t had lunch yet.”

  “Fine,” I choke out as I begrudgingly accept his gesture and sit in my seat, allowing him to push it in. He does the same thing for Rosie before he has a seat as well.

  While we wait for the food to be ready, Rosie and Aris make small talk. He’s sweet and polite and professional, and it makes me want to stab him in the eye with my salad fork.

  The chef finally brings the sample of food out, and after going through each item—I’ve gone with an Italian menu—he places the tray in the middle of the table.

  “Thank you, Angelo, this all looks delectable,” I tell the chef. With a smile donning his face, he nods once and waits for us to each take an item from the tray. The veal parmesan looks delicious, so I decide to go with that. Bringing it up to my nose to smell it, the delicious aroma wafts in the air, and my stomach gurgles in hunger. Aris takes a piece of the chicken marsala and Rosie forks a piece of the crab stuffed parmesan shrimp.

  Bringing the veal to my lips, I take a small bite, wanting to make sure I leave room to try everything else. It’s scrumptious. The sauce is flavorful, the veal is tender, and the cheese is gooey.

  “Angelo,” I say, needing to praise him. “This is perfect.”

  “Agreed,” Aris says.

  “This shrimp is to die for,” Rosie adds. “Here, try it.” She forks another piece of the shrimp onto my plate. Without hesitation, I pop the shrimp into my mouth, but unlike the veal that appealed to all of my senses, the shrimp does the opposite. The moment it lands on my tongue, my stomach rolls, and then, when I force myself to swallow it down, my stomach revolts, refusing to accept the food.

  Quickly excusing myself, I bolt straight to the bathroom and throw up. Just when I think I’m okay, I throw up again, losing whatever is left in my belly.

  My head is halfway into the toilet when a masculine hand lands on my shoulder. Thinking it’s Aris, I jump back, smacking the back of my head on the marble wall.

  “Zoí mou, it’s just me,” Kostas says, his brows drawn together in worry. “Are you okay?” He kneels next to me, and lifting me in his arms, carries me over to the sink, setting me on the countertop. “I wanted to surprise you, but I got held up at a meeting. When I arrived, Aris said you ran to the bathroom.” He takes a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it, then dabs it along my forehead.

  “I’m okay. I think it was the shrimp.” I take in a deep breath. My stomach no longer hurts. “I feel better now.”

  Kostas eyes me carefully. “I think Rosie and Aris can handle the rest of the menu. Let’s get you home.”

  When we get back to the table, Aris eyes me speculatively. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” Kostas says for me. “Talia isn’t feeling well, though, so I’m going to get her home.”

  Not wanting Angelo to think his food was bad, I explain to him that I’m not much of a seafood person. Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to be too offended. It helps that Rosie is working her way through almost every item on the tray and swears everything is perfection.

  “Let’s go, wife,” Kostas says as he guides me down the pathway toward our home. “I was going to offer to run you a relaxing bath, but now that you’re feeling better, I think a hot shower is in order.” His wicked smirk makes me feel tons better.

  Kostas

  I pace our bedroom, slightly annoyed by the fact I’m wearing a tux rather than one of my usual Armani suits. But this is Talia’s doing. The entire grand opening of Pomegranate is an over the top affair that she singlehandedly orchestrated herself. Pride chases away my irritation as I think about all the work she’s put into the restaurant. It’s by far the most unique restaurant at Pérasma Hotel. She’s put an incredible amount of effort into it. My mother would be so proud.

  Thunder rumbles in the distance. We’ve had nice weather all week. Of course it’d wait to rain until when we have guests coming in from all over Greece to help celebrate opening night.

  “We better get a move on,” I call out. “Weather’s looking shitty.”

  She exits the bathroom in a pair of nude-colored panties and nothing else. Instantly, all thoughts of the event are erased as my hunger for her takes center place.

  “No,” she grumbles. “My stomach is in knots with nerves, and I need to get dressed. We can’t be late.” She purses her juicy lips that have been painted the color of the skin of a pomegranate and frowns. If we didn’t have this shit to go to, I’d suck every bit of the color off those perfect lips like she was my very own fruit to devour. “No,” she huffs once more.

  I roll my eyes but follow her into the large closet. Her long blond hair has been curled and hangs loose down her back. She locates her dress on a hanger and unzips the back. Then, she pulls it off the hanger before stepping into it. Her ass gets hugged by the material before it disappears when she pulls it up. I stride over to her and push her hair over one shoulder so I can zip it up. A tremble rattles through her.

  “Don’t be nervous,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “You’ve done the hard part. Now it’s time to enjoy it.”

  She turns and presses her lips to mine. “Thank you.”

  I step away and admire the way the crystal-studded dress hugs her luscious curves. When she’d seen the dress in a magazine and offhandedly mentioned how much she liked it, I knew the truth. It was her subtle way of asking for it. And since I’m a giving husband, I flew the designer out for a fitting. The sheer chiffon material serves one purpose—to hold the crystals in place. But in the places the crystals don’t touch, I’m rewarded with tiny glimpses of her tanned flesh. It makes me want to tear th
e dress from her body one crystal at a time and forbid her to ever leave my sight. Just knowing both men and women will be staring at what’s mine sets my teeth on edge.

  “You’re growling like a dog,” she teases as she bends to slide on her silver strappy sandal heels.

  “You’re a sparkling dick magnet,” I bite back.

  She laughs—sweet and carefree. “I think that’s a compliment, so thank you.”

  I stalk over to her and place my hands on her hips so I can inspect her closely. The dress is heart-shaped at the top and strapless. Her breasts fill the cups and spill over slightly. With each breath she takes, the flesh jiggles and entices. My dick fucking loves this dress.

  “Still growling,” she sings, flashing me a wicked grin.

  She pulls away to walk over to her jewelry drawer that I’ve filled with gorgeous pieces that remind me of her. As she peers into the drawer to select what she’ll wear, I rake my gaze down the rest of her dress. Where the crystals stop mid-thigh, the shimmery sheer chiffon goes all the way down to her ankles with only a few crystals dotting the material here and there. A long slit cuts through the fabric and ends incredibly high up her thigh.

  This dress is fucking maddening.

  “Can you help me with my bracelet, Fido?”

  I pierce her with a hard glare. “I swear to fuck if anyone so much as touches you tonight, I’ll gut them with my fork.”

  “Your wickedly possessive and equal parts horrifying threats are somehow romantic in a way,” she teases as she hands me the thick, sparkly diamond bracelet. “I don’t want anyone touching me but you, Kostas. No one.”

  Settled by her fierce words, I take the jewelry and connect it around her delicate wrist. Not letting go of her hand, I draw her palm to my mouth and kiss it, my eyes searing into hers. She grins at me before pulling away to put on some diamond dangly earrings.

  “I’m ready,” she finally says, “and you look handsome as ever.”