Hidden Truths (Truths and Lies Duet Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  When we get to the door that reads Theatre, Michael opens it for me. As I step in, I notice they’re following me, so I halt in my place.

  “You’re not, like, coming in here with me, are you?” There’s no way I’m going to sit in my classes with them literally standing guard next to me.

  “It’s our job, ma’am,” Tadd repeats. Another student walks up, and since we’re blocking the doorway, I move out of the way.

  “You can wait outside,” I tell them, trying to keep calm.

  “You’ll have to take that up with Mr. Demetriou, ma’am,” Michael says with zero emotion.

  Pulling my phone out of my purse, I dial Kostas. He answers on the first ring. “Talia.”

  “Kostas, they’re trying to go in my class with me,” I whisper-yell, not wanting to cause a scene, as if two two-hundred-pound men in the performing arts building aren’t already standing out.

  “That’s their job.” Jesus, is that the answer of the day?

  “Kostas!” I screech, letting my frustration get the best of me. “You can’t do this! It’s so embarrassing. I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t need a babysitter in my class, let alone two!” When the phone remains silent, I fear I’ve crossed the line. Scared he’s going to tell the men to bring me home, not allowing me to go to school after all, I change my tone.

  “Kostas, please,” I beg. “Can’t they scope out the place and then wait outside by the door?”

  “No.”

  “No?” I ask dumbly.

  “No,” he repeats.

  No. That’s it. Just fucking no. No conversing. No discussing. No compromising. Just no. Like he really is goddamn God of the Underworld and has the final damn say in everything.

  “Fine!” I hang up and throw my phone back into my purse. Stomping to the door, I swing it open, and my bodyguards follow me in, knowing I didn’t get my way.

  I stalk down the aisle and find a seat a couple rows back, next to a girl who is flipping through the textbook for this class. I glance back and see Michael and Tadd have at least remained in the back, standing against the wall as if they’re meant to blend in.

  “I’m Penelope.” The girl greets me with a soft smile.

  “Talia.”

  “Did you see the performance schedule?” she asks, holding the syllabus up for me to see.

  “Yeah, it’s a good list. A couple of them I’ve performed back home, but a few are new.”

  “Home?” she questions.

  “I’m from Italy. This is my first semester here.”

  “Italy is beautiful,” Penelope gushes. “My family and I visited there last summer.” She tells me about everything she saw and asks me questions about where I lived and went to school, until the professor enters the room and introduces himself. He runs through the performances and when the auditions will be held. I take notes, jotting down the ones I’m interested in. Because it’s a senior level course, the only requirements are that we participate in a minimum of three performances, either by acting or as part of the stage crew. The first audition is for Macbeth. I already know I’m going to try out for the role of Lady Macbeth.

  The rest of the morning goes smoothly. Michael and Tadd escort me to my creative writing class and once again remain in the back. The professor gets straight to it, going over the different types of poetry and assigning us homework: to create a poem of our choosing. I meet a couple of people in this class who seem really nice and ask me to join them for lunch.

  The afternoon consists of my Lit and History of Art classes. They’re not as fun as my morning classes, but they fly by, and before I know it I’m back in the car heading home. My classes are Tuesdays and Thursdays with Theatre practice on Fridays. That gives me the other days to get my homework done.

  As I’m walking toward the parking lot with Michael and Tadd flanking me, my brother steps into view from out of nowhere.

  “Phoenix!” I’m about to throw my arms around him for a hug when Michael yanks me back. “Hey,” I shriek at the same time my brother hisses, “Get your hands off her.”

  “Back up,” Tadd commands.

  Phoenix reaches behind him, for what I assume is his gun, and before he can even pull it out, Tadd has him on the ground with his hands locked behind his back.

  “Stop, please,” I whisper, hating the attention we’re drawing from the students walking by. “I know him. He’s okay.”

  Tadd stands, bringing Phoenix up with him. “He’s not on the approved list, ma’am.”

  “I’m her fucking brother, asshole. I don’t need to be on any fucking list.”

  Tadd steps toward him. “You do if you want to go anywhere near her.”

  In fear he’ll take out my brother, I move forward, only Michael is still holding me back. “Okay, okay,” I say in a placating tone. “I’ll speak to Kostas tonight and get you on the approved list.” I silently beg Phoenix not to argue. The last thing I need is to give Kostas a reason to kill my brother. Phoenix looks like he wants to say something, but when I shake my head, he closes his mouth.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I tell him.

  “All right.” He nods once and then takes off in the opposite direction than we’re heading.

  By the time we’re pulling through the entrance to the hotel, my blood is boiling. Damn Kostas and his need to control everything and everyone. Not sure when he’ll be home, and not wanting to be here when he arrives, I opt to go for a swim in the pool to cool off. I can bring my homework with me and work on it by the pool. But when I step through the door, and am hit with a cold glare from Kostas, I know I’m not going anywhere. Setting my purse and books on the table, I shoot him what I hope is an equally pissed off expression.

  “Welcome home, wife,” Kostas greets as I stalk past him to the bedroom to change. Deciding a shower is in order, I strip down and go straight to the bathroom. I can feel Kostas behind me, but I ignore him, focusing on the temperature of the water. Once it’s hot enough, I step in, only to find Kostas is also naked and following me in.

  Doing my best to ignore him, I grab the body wash and squeeze some onto a loofah. But like the tyrant my husband is, he won’t be ignored. Gripping the curve of my hip, he turns me around to face him, backing me against the shower wall. The loofah falls to the ground as he pins my hands above my head with one of his own. “I asked how your day was, wife,” he seethes.

  When I still refuse to answer, he leans in and bites down on my bottom lip. I screech out in pain, trying to push him away, but he’s too strong, and I’m at his mercy. I’m always at his mercy.

  “Want me to tell you how my day was?” he asks, clearly as a rhetorical question, since he doesn’t wait for an answer before he continues. “It started with my wife screaming at me over the phone while I was standing in an important business meeting.” My eyes go wide. Shit, I didn’t think about why he was being so short over the phone. “Apparently it’s more important for her to fit in than to be safe.” His icy-hot gaze bores into mine. “Not even an hour away from here and you’re already forgetting whose wife you are.” His grip tightens on my wrists, and with his other hand, he lifts me up by my ass. My legs wrap around his torso, and then he roughly drives into me.

  Everything inside me clenches.

  “You.” Thrust. “Are.” Another thrust. “My goddamned wife.”

  My eyes remain locked with Kostas’s as he fucks me hard and deep, reminding me who I am. Who I belong to. And by the time we’re both coming, I’m screaming out the name of the man who owns every single part of me.

  “Add Phoenix to the approved list,” I tell Kostas after the waiter sets down our plates of food.

  Kostas’s jaw clenches. “You’re going to want to rethink how you speak to your husband, anóito korítsi.” Foolish girl. “Otherwise, I’m going to be forced to remind you again who you belong to, but you aren’t going to be screaming my name in pleasure this time.”

  Not wanting to argue with him, I take a calming breath and try again, this time nicer. “Can yo
u please add my brother to the list of approved people who can speak to me?”

  Kostas glares my way but nods. “It’s already been done.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How was your first day of school?”

  “It was good. The first performance in my theatre class is Macbeth. Guess which part I’m trying out for.” I bat my lashes playfully, and Kostas chuckles.

  “Let me guess, Lady Macbeth,” he answers dryly.

  “Yep. I think I’ll make a great Lady Macbeth. She’s strong and ambitious. Determined.”

  Kostas barks out a laugh. “She’s cunning and ruthless and manipulative. She repeatedly questions her husband’s manhood until she pushes him to the edge, forcing him to commit murder. Then she can’t handle it and takes her own life.” Kostas puts his fork down and stares at me with a mixture of humor and seriousness. “You know what would’ve saved her life? If she had let her husband handle shit.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re such a caveman.”

  “Doesn’t Lady Macbeth have to kiss Macbeth in that play?” Kostas asks thoughtfully.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “If she does, it’s only for pretend. It’s a stage kiss. It’s not real.”

  Kostas lets out a growl. “I’ll be damned if my wife is kissing another man, staged or not.”

  “Caveman,” I repeat.

  “Careful, Lady Macbeth. You will hate the outcome if you drive your husband to the edge and he’s forced to commit murder.” Kostas’s lips curve into a wicked grin as fear shoots through my veins like some deadly hit of a drug I want no part of.

  Any other man and I would take his threat as a joke, but with Kostas, I have a feeling he’s being dead serious.

  Kostas

  There are two things that rile my wife up. One, telling her no. The other, her motherfucking raging hormonal period time. This morning, the stage is set for a nuclear meltdown. For once, I’m eager to send her ass to school so I can get a moment of fucking peace.

  “Say it again,” she seethes, her face turning red.

  I scrub my palm down my face in frustration. “You’re just mad because you’re on your period.” She had Tadd and Michael run her by the drugstore after school yesterday, so I know this is half of her problem.

  “What did you say?” Her voice is deceptively calm, but I can see the figurative claws coming out.

  “I’m saying it’s why you’re being irrational.”

  She picks up a vase and heaves it at me. I don’t even have to duck out of the way because she throws like shit. My wife’s favorite things to throw are vases, so I keep having them replenished in our home. It crashes behind me and her chest rises up and down with fury.

  “I am not being irrational, Kostas. I’m not being hormonal. You’re being a psychopath!” She’s too pissed to cry. Nothing but rage ripples from her. Normally, I like to pin her down and fuck the anger out of her, but she’s on the rag and isn’t into it.

  I stalk over to her and grip her jaw, smushing her cheeks so her lips pucker out. “You married me knowing I was a psychopath. Don’t act surprised now, Mrs. Demetriou.”

  She hisses like a fucking cat. “I’ll be Lady Macbeth, and I’ll kiss him! It’s what my grade requires me to do!”

  Just thinking about her kissing that motherfucker makes me see red. I’d been proud when she auditioned for the part and got it, but the moment she reminded me she’d have to kiss the guy, I wasn’t having any of it.

  “And I told you what I’d do if he kissed you,” I bite out, rubbing the tip of my nose against hers and pinning her with a hard glare.

  “You can’t cut off his lips, you fucking freak!” she cries out, her emotions finally winning out over her anger. Tears well in her pretty blues and I hate that I caused them, but I won’t back down on this.

  “I will. Tell your teacher you can pretend to kiss him. But I won’t have him taking what’s mine,” I tell her simply.

  “You’re impossible,” she snaps. “I’m leaving.”

  “How long is this Theater practice?” I ask, not releasing her pretty face.

  “Two hours.” She rolls her eyes. “I know the drill. Come straight home. Don’t pass Go. Don’t collect two hundred euros. Just come back to the dungeon so my psychopathic husband can put me back in my cage.”

  “Get over yourself,” I grumble, letting her go. “I swear, I ought to put you in a cage one week out of every month.”

  Her lip curls up in fury. “I hate you.”

  “Mhmm.”

  “You can’t keep me pressed under your thumb forever,” she threatens, her lip wobbling slightly. “I won’t stand for it. You know this, Kostas.”

  I grip a handful of her blond hair and kiss her pouty lips that keep spewing so much hate today. She doesn’t kiss me back, which really fucking pisses me off.

  “You’ll stand for it because you have no goddamn choice,” I bite out and press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Have a nice time at practice.”

  She pulls away and glowers at me for a moment before turning on her heel and stalking off. I should go after her, yank her back into the room, and make passionate love to her so she’ll calm down…period be damned. But I have a meeting with my father and I don’t have time to pacify her like usual.

  “Don’t wait up for me,” she sasses over her shoulder.

  “S ‘agapó, ómorfi gynaíka mou.” I love you, my beautiful wife.

  The door slams before I even get the words out.

  I’ll let her cool off and then I’m going to spend all weekend teaching her how to behave. A little duct tape. Some rope. Naked and at my mercy. It’ll be hard to be pissed when she’s had countless orgasms.

  Sometimes I think Talia likes to fight with me just so we can make up.

  We’re really fucking good at making up.

  Father was in his bedroom when I arrived, laid up in his bed. For a man who months ago ruled with an iron fist he is weak now. So fucking weak. My mother made him that way. I helped him dress, along with his live-in nurse, and then wheeled him down to the dining room where his cook had made a fantastic lunch spread. An hour passes before we finish our meal and get down to whatever it is Father called me here for.

  “How’s married life treating you?” he asks, his features hardened.

  “Splendid.” He doesn’t need to know that Talia pushes every fucking button I have, but I secretly like it. Our fighting is foreplay. Father definitely doesn’t need to hear about that.

  “Hmmm,” is all he says. “Where’s your brother?”

  I pull out a phone and check for any texts.

  Aris: On my way. Sorry I’m late. Selene’s mouth needed to be punished.

  Rolling my eyes, I set my phone down on the table. “He’ll be here soon.”

  One of Father’s servants walks in with a tray, bringing us some cookies and coffee. While she busies herself with setting everything out, I scroll through my phone checking on emails. I fire off a text to Talia.

  Me: I miss you even when you piss me the fuck off.

  I smirk, imagining the way her nostrils will flare and her blue eyes will darken with anger.

  “The wind is fucking horrible,” Aris calls out as he strides into the dining room looking disheveled. “Tropical storm coming through?”

  He and Father discuss the weather while I stare at my phone. The servant brings out a plate of lunch for Aris. After ten or fifteen minutes of them gossiping about the weather like two old fucking men, I let out a huff and set my phone down. My gaze finds Aris and I notice his bitch literally got her claws into him. His neck is red where she scratched him. Selene is a skank, but Aris seems quite taken by her. When he catches me staring, he flashes me a lazy grin.

  “Where’s Niles?” Father demands, dragging my attention his way.

  I grit my teeth. For someone who has to have a nurse twenty-four-seven, he sure is a demanding motherfucker. “He’s hiding like the rat he is.”

  Aris snorts. “His son sure as hell isn’t.�
�

  Father lifts a brow at me in question. “Phoenix sniffing around?”

  “I married his sister. It’s not unheard of for annoying brothers to stick their noses where they don’t belong.” I level Aris with a glare that makes him bark out a laugh.

  “Can we shake out information from him?” Father asks, his shrewd eyes narrowing at me.

  “He doesn’t know anything,” I grit out.

  Father blinks at me before shaking his head. “He does. And you could get it out of him. But you won’t. Why is that, my son?”

  “Father, you’re out of line.”

  “Me?” He scoffs. “You’re the one acting like a piece of ass is more important than this family.”

  “Enough!” I roar, slamming my fist down on the table. “She is my wife. And just like you respected my mother, I will respect her. He’s her brother. I’m not going to torture answers out of him. We’ll find Niles another fucking way.”

  Aris smirks as he watches our exchange.

  “Talia is a distraction. She makes you soft,” Father growls. “You’re not fit to lead.”

  I rise from my seat and sneer at him, motioning at his wheelchair and the fucking salmon-colored afghan blanket in his lap. “Too bad you don’t make those decisions anymore.”

  “Kostas Angelo Demetriou!” Father bellows, but I’m already storming away from him.

  Father can meddle all he wants, but I know what the hell I’m doing. I have men all over sniffing out Phoenix’s moves, hunting for Niles, and following every Galani roach left all over Crete. Just because I don’t blab to my brother or my father every damn time I do something doesn’t mean I don’t spend all goddamn day piecing together the puzzle that is my life.

  I climb into my Maserati and zip down the streets, anger buzzing through my veins. By the time I reach the hotel, it’s ten minutes after when Talia gets out of class. Her not texting me back means she’s super pissed. I shut off the car and dial a local flower delivery company. Women like flowers and Talia is no exception. Once the flowers are ordered, I text her again.

  Me: I’m sorry, zoí mou.