Hidden Truths (Truths and Lies Duet Book 1) Read online

  “You ready?” Aris asks.

  “Yep.”

  In the light of the day, the hotel is even more gorgeous. It was exquisite last night, but with the sun shining, I’m able to see every detail of the place. The pool is kidney-shaped, with a bar on one end and a beautiful rock waterfall on the other. Several people are already swimming in the pool and lying out in the loungers with drinks in their hands.

  “Wine?” Aris asks, lifting the bottle from last night.

  I shake my head. I need to keep a clear head.

  “Just a lemonade if you have it. If not, water.”

  He pours my drink then pops a top on a beer for himself. We take our drinks over to two empty loungers that are under an umbrella and have a seat.

  “You’re from Italy, right?” he asks after a few minutes of silence.

  “Yes, Rome, but I go to school in Florence at the Florence Art Institute.” And then it hits me. If somehow Kostas and his dad get their way, will I be allowed to go back to school in the fall? Or will he force me to stay here with him? Away from my mom, my family, my life.

  “What’s wrong?” Aris asks.

  “I was just thinking about school. I’m supposed to be starting my senior year. I hope this all gets sorted out before then.”

  “Talia, I don’t think you understand—”

  His words are cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. “I need to take this,” I say before I answer the call. “Mom.”

  “No, Talia, it’s your grandfather.”

  “Nonno!” A sob escapes my lips. “Please tell me I can go home.” There’s a deafening silence on the other line that causes my body to grow cold with fear. “Nonno,” I repeat.

  “Talia, you need to listen to me,” he says, his tone unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It’s flat and cold, devoid of all emotion. “Your father made some terrible choices, and because of that, the Demetrious have decided the way for him to pay is through you. I’ve spoken to Ezio, and the decision has been made. You will marry his eldest son, Kostas, and become his wife.”

  “No!” With a shaky hand, I set my drink on the table next to me. “Please, Nonno, I can’t marry him. I have a life. A boyfriend. I have my senior year! I didn’t agree to this.” Another wave of fury spreads through my veins like wildfire. How dare my father—No! Niles! How dare Niles use me to pay his debt! He’s a selfish bastard! “I’m not marrying him,” I tell my grandfather. “I don’t care if they kill Niles.” My eyes swing over to Aris, who is staring at me with pity in his eyes.

  “You don’t have a choice,” my grandfather says so nonchalantly one would think he was discussing the weather and not the fate of my future. “The decision is final.”

  At his words, I nearly drop my phone. My hands are trembling with fury, and I have to clasp the device tightly. “Ezio told me if I don’t marry Kostas, Niles will die. Well, fuck him! He did this to himself. Let. Him. Rot.” Without thinking about where I am or what I’m doing, I lean forward and swipe the glass off the table. It smashes against the ground, shards of glass flying in every direction. It’s not enough to tame the rage rolling through me, but it helps tamper it down a notch.

  “Talia,” Nonno snaps. “Do not take up that language with me. I understand you are upset, and you have every right to be. But you will not speak to me with such disrespect.”

  Seriously? All of these men want to jerk me around and dictate my life, then demand respect? Respect is earned. And as far as I’m concerned, they’ve all lost mine.

  “Now, you will listen to me,” my grandfather continues. “The Demetrious family is not one you go against. The only way to get out of this would be death…for you. They’ve already decided, and once they make a decision, it’s law.”

  My body falls back onto the lounge chair. My shoulders sag, and my head lulls forward in defeat. “So, that’s it then? My life is being taken from me? I’m being kidnapped against my will and being forced to marry that…that man.” I can’t think of anything to call him at the moment that would be fitting. “I would rather die,” I cry out.

  “Oh, Talia, don’t be dramatic.”

  “Dramatic?” I pop my head back up. “Dramatic? You aren’t the one stuck on this island with complete strangers. What about my school? And my friends? What about Alex? My apartment?”

  “Your life will be wherever Kostas decides. I’m sorry, Talia. I tried to speak to them, but they made it clear this marriage will happen.”

  A gut-wrenching sob tears through my chest. Complete hopelessness converts into tears that rain down my cheeks at lightning speed. If I don’t find a way out, I’m going to be sentenced to a life underground, just like Proserpina. But unlike her—who at least was stuck with Pluto, who in some versions of the story appeared to be a decent husband, despite beginning their marriage in such a horrible way—I’m being taken by Kostas. The man who found dark humor in Proserpina’s rape. The man who tried to argue that she enjoyed it. That the statue screamed passion.

  I’m once again overcome with rage as the realization strikes that I have no one I can count on but myself. My own father was the one to hand me over. The rest of my family has their hands tied behind their backs. The only chance I have at getting out of this is me. I need to formulate a plan. And to do that I need to be alone.

  When I stand, ready to flee back to my room, Aris says my name.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, worry dripping in his words.

  “No,” I tell him honestly, “but I will be.”

  “I’m really sorry your grandfather wasn’t able to get you out of this mess.” Even though it’s his family who is causing all of this to happen, I feel like, to an extent, he might genuinely mean that.

  “It’s not your fault. Thank you for being so kind to me.” I kneel to pick up the pieces of glass, but Aris stops me.

  “Someone will clean that up. Would you like to go for a walk? The bay is beautiful at this time.”

  “Raincheck?” I ask, even though I don’t plan to be here for him to collect. I don’t care how I have to do it, I will be getting the hell off this island. “I think I need some time to myself.”

  “Sure.” His lips curl into a soft smile. “Let me see your phone.”

  I hold it closer to my chest. If he takes my phone from me, it will mess up my plan.

  “I’m just going to input my number into your contacts in case you need something or someone to talk to.”

  Reluctantly, I type in my code then hand my phone over to him. After a few seconds, he hands it back.

  “The restaurants serve all day. Just let them know your name and they’ll serve you anything you want.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  On my way back to my room, my phone pings with a text, reminding me I don’t want to just change his contact from Dad to Niles, but to block his number altogether.

  Dad: I’m so sorry, sunshine. I hope one day you can forgive me. There was just no other way.

  And with that text, my anger is back with a vengeance. The second I step into my room, I allow myself to lose it. Picking up the crystal vase from the end table, I imagine it’s my dad’s head as I cock my arm back and throw it as hard as I can. It bounces off the wall and shatters when it hits the wood floor.

  Damn, that felt good.

  I grab something else—this time, a lamp—and chuck it across the room. It smashes against the wall, fragments raining down and landing on top of the broken crystal.

  I take a deep breath. And then I grab the other lamp and throw it.

  Item after item, I throw everything I can get my hands on until my arm is dead and there’s nothing left to throw. Until my anger has dissipated enough that I can form a coherent thought.

  And then I formulate my plan.

  I pull up my airline ticket and call the airline. After my flight is booked, I call Alex.

  “Talia, how are you?” Alex asks when he answers the phone. His voice is groggy, and it’s then I remember there’s an eight-hour time difference betwee
n Chicago and Greece.

  “I’m good. I’m sorry to wake you, but I have great news. My father is letting me come visit you after all. My flight leaves in a few hours.”

  “That’s fabulous!” he exclaims, his voice brighter and more awake. “I’ll pick you up at the airport. What time will your flight arrive?”

  “It’s a twelve-hour flight, so I should be there at six o’clock your time.”

  “Once you find out your gate number, call me so I know where to meet you.”

  “I will. I can’t wait to see you.”

  After we hang up, I make sure I have everything I need in my purse, and then, leaving my room key on the nightstand, I slip out. I head up the path and find a side exit. I thought about snagging a cab from here, but then they could track me. So instead, my plan is to walk as far as I can go and then hail a cab outside of the hotel.

  My plan works. After walking the mile down the long roadway, I sneak behind a guard gate and exit along the back. When I step out of the trees, I’m standing on the sidewalk facing a busy street. Several cabs drive up and down the road, and not even a second after I’ve waved my hand, one pulls to the side.

  “Heraklion airport.”

  The driver nods once and takes off. Fifty minutes later, I swipe my credit card and exit the cab. I find the airline I’m flying with and check in. Because I don’t have any bags to check, I’m pushed through the line quickly. As I watch the line to go through security move forward, my heart pounds against my ribcage. I’m almost in the clear. Just a few more people and then I’ll be on the other side.

  Three more people.

  Two.

  One.

  “Put your belongings in the bin, then step through,” the guard instructs.

  “That won’t be necessary,” a cold, menacing voice says. “She won’t be going anywhere.”

  Like ice straight to my veins, my body freezes in its place. I don’t have to turn around to know who is standing behind me.

  Pluto…and he’s here to drag me back into the Underworld against my will.

  Kostas

  She left. Just like I knew she fucking would. Grabbed her purse and waltzed right out the door. I have to give her credit. Sneaking away rather than taking a cab from the front entrance of the hotel was clever. Not clever enough, though. I anticipated her move. She’s a Nikolaides after all.

  Not for long.

  Every person we pass ignores her fuming. Around these parts, they see me and they move the fuck on. Nobody messes with my family. Not locals, not airport workers, not cab drivers, not even goddamn tourists. Everyone sees the blinking neon sign above my head that says: Don’t fuck with me.

  Or else.

  Those who fuck with me and my family—like Niles Nikolaides—learn what else we have in store for them. In his case, he forfeited over his blond vixen of a daughter. Others pay with their blood. I prefer blood, but in this instance, I’m not unhappy about getting this furious woman into my bed.

  Forever.

  The thought is equal parts disturbing and thrilling. I’d never admit to my father I’m a lonely bastard who wishes he had someone to come home to every night. He’s happy with Mamá, and has been for my entire life, so it’s only natural I crave the same for myself.

  We exit the airport without incident. My charcoal-gray Maserati GranTurismo sits parked in the fire lane. No one writes a ticket. They just ignore me as it should be.

  “Get in,” I bite out, my voice cold and commanding as I open the passenger side door.

  Her plump lips press together as though she’s thinking desperately of arguing, but in the end, she lets out an exaggerated huff before throwing herself into the car. I close the door and catch the eye of a security guard.

  “Women,” he mutters, chuckling at me.

  “Women,” I agree. I smirk at him before climbing in my car.

  She’s quiet as I drive away from the airport and onto the main road. Her thoughts are loud, though. A cacophony of accusations and hate bouncing around inside the vehicle as though they can physically harm me.

  I’m untouchable, moró mou.

  I shift through the gears and fly down the road, passing cars along the way. She clutches the side of the door and the console as though that will help her if we were to crash. It won’t. Lucky for her, we won’t crash either. Next to crushing the bones of motherfuckers who cross me, I love to drive and I’m good at it. My father and brother prefer drivers, but not me. I’ll take one of my many cars for a ride any day to escape the stifling responsibilities that weigh on me continuously.

  “Am I in trouble?” she finally asks after a few minutes, darting her worried gaze my way.

  “For trying to flee the country and hide from me?”

  She nods, fear gleaming in her blue eyes.

  “I didn’t make the rules clear, so I suppose not,” I tell her, catching her gaze briefly before I turn my attention back on the road. “However, if you run from me again, you’ll be punished. Severely.”

  “You’ll kill me?”

  “My punishments are never so simple.”

  She doesn’t try for more conversation, and I offer none. The drive takes less time than it should because I drive like a bat out of hell. When I finally pull into the hotel, I drive around to the back and down a long road that’s far from tourists’ eyes.

  “Where are we going?” she demands, as though she has every right to make demands of me. “I thought you were bringing me back.”

  Ignoring her, I climb out of my car and make my way over to her side. I open the door and gesture for her to get out.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” she asks, the bravado in her tone gone without a trace.

  “Not at the moment.”

  Her lips press together, but she exits the vehicle. I grip her bicep and guide her to the groundskeeper’s house on the corner of the property. The groundskeeper nods when we enter his small home unannounced. My barging in with someone in tow is nothing new. I haul her through the living room and into the kitchen. Pushing through the cellar door, I walk her down the narrow, steep stairs into the kelári.

  But there is no wine in this cellar.

  Only sad attempts for mercy.

  There’s no mercy here either.

  Adrian sits on the sofa in the corner with his feet perched on the coffee table. In the center of the room, tied to a chair, is a man. Not just any man, but a man who thought he could lie to me.

  “Cy,” I greet. “Did you miss me?”

  His brown eyes are wild and he whimpers from behind the red scarf that’s stuffed inside his mouth. Sweat pours down his forehead and his T-shirt is soaked through. His feet are a mess, just like I left him.

  When Adrian sees Talia, he sits upright and pats the sofa, understanding washing over him. She is to watch. She needs to see. “Come sit, miss,” he urges.

  As though he is the villain in this dank cellar, she takes a step nearer to me. Rather than allowing her any comfort, I release her arm and swat her ass. “Go, Talia.”

  She shoots me a venomous look over her shoulder. I bite back a chuckle. Fiery, even when fearful. Impressive. Once she sits as far away from Adrian as she can get, I remove my jacket and drape it over a chair.

  “Talia, moró mou,” I rumble. “Meet Cy. Cy, meet my fiancée.”

  Cy cries, but no one cares.

  “Cy is a bad man,” I tell her. “A bad man who must be punished. Do you want to know what he did that was so heinous to be tied to that chair?”

  She shakes her head furiously, tears welling in her blue eyes. “No.”

  So brave this woman. Challenges me continuously.

  “Allow me to regale you anyway,” I say with a smile. “Cy here was asked where his brother Bakken was. Bakken is a thief and a killer. A pirate of sorts. An Aegean Sea asshole who boards ships that do not belong to him and cuts throats of innocent people. Bakken thinks if he kills people in my territory, that the Hellenic police will come after me and my family.”


  Her brows furrow as she waits for me to continue, her eyes glued to Cy’s bloody feet.

  I roll my sleeves up before whistling at Adrian. “Give me your sock.”

  He groans but kicks off his shoe. The big brute pulls off his black sock and tosses it to me. I set the sock down on the table and place my hands on my hips.

  “Talia, Cy was wrong. The Hellenic police are my father’s friends. They’ll be at our wedding. There’s a blurred line between good and bad. You’ll soon learn to straddle it with me.” I turn my head to regard Cy. “We burned your brother alive on his own ship. We found him no thanks to you.”

  Cy whimpers and shakes his head. He isn’t allowed to speak anymore. There was a time when I allowed him to, and he lied. Told me his brother had fled to Istanbul. In reality, his brother was floating around in my territory, fucking with what’s mine.

  “Know what happens to liars, Talia?” I demand, my attention once again on her.

  She flinches and shakes her head.

  “Use that pretty head of yours,” I growl. “Amuse me and guess.”

  “T-They lose their tongue?” she asks, her bottom lip trembling.

  Adrian snorts out a laugh.

  “I suppose that’d make sense,” I say as I squat in front of Cy. “But a madman doesn’t make sense. Therefore, liars get a different treatment around here.”

  I pick up the knife from the floor. Earlier, when my father left my office, I came straight down to the cellar to work on Cy. I’d barely started when Basil told me that my fiancée had fled. Cy’s been waiting all this time.

  The stench of piss permeates the air, but it’s to be expected. I inspect my blood-crusted blade and flash Talia a wide smile. When I continue my sawing through his leg, just above his ankle, he screams through his scarf. I can hear Talia gagging from nearby. The knife is sharp, but it still takes me a good half hour to saw through the bone. Blood gushes everywhere, and I’ll have to throw out these shoes, unfortunately. Eventually, I break through the bone and finish sawing through the muscle until I’ve completely removed his foot. Cy’s head lolls to the side, but he’s still awake. Good.