Broken Lies: The Regretful Lies Duet Book 1 Read online

  “Jesus, Violet. I don’t have all day,” he calls out, tapping the front of his Apple Watch.

  Forcing a smile, I jog over to him. “I’m ready.”

  “Better be. I got a lot of stress to release.” He grasps the top of his shoe behind his back to stretch out his quad.

  “Stress? What stress?” My voice quivers and Eli’s brow dips.

  He lifts his chin in my direction. “Haven’t been inside you in over twenty-four hours, babe. That shit’s dangerous.”

  Snorting, I push his bicep, my fingers curling around his muscle in admiration, my nerves spiking for a completely different reason.

  “Tonight, then?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Okay.” I worry my bottom lip back and forth between my teeth, my hand still holding his arm.

  “What’s going on, babe? You’re thinking too hard,” Eli says easily, unaware that my mind is literally imploding with thoughts of his past.

  Jesus, Zoe. Grow up.

  “Can we talk first?”

  Eli stops moving and peers down at me, a flash of concern in his green eyes. “Sounds serious.”

  I squint up at him as the sun illuminates his presence, large and looming, big enough to swallow me whole, intense enough to burn me to ash.

  “What’s going on, Zo?” He steps closer and I drop my hand from his arm.

  “Not now. Tonight. Later. I just…we have work to do now.” I walk toward the equipment, but Eli’s hand shoots out and circles my wrist, forcing me to look at him.

  “Are you okay?” he asks seriously, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

  “Really, it’s nothing. I just, I want to get to know you better.”

  He studies me for a long beat. I can hear the wheels in his mind turning, considering, assessing. “What’d you read?” He asks, and my mouth drops open before a stream of laughter escapes.

  “How’d you do that?”

  “I’ve been in this game for a minute.” He drops my wrist and tugs on the back of his neck. The sun glances off his tanned skin, sweat dotting his shoulders, his strength glistening like an aura. “What do you want to know?” His tone is curt, and I don’t like the accusation in his words. As if I’ve already made my mind up about a million things and aren’t approaching him for his truth.

  Sighing, I shake my arms out at my sides. “I know Natalie.”

  Eli rears back as if I slapped him. “Know her?”

  I chew the corner of my mouth, the memories of that time in my life, the ones where my mother was bald and frail and so damn resilient, flicker through my mind like a movie reel. “She was a candy striper at the hospital where my mom, when she…” I trail off, glancing back up.

  Eli’s expression transforms. The stoic, silent irritation from a moment ago cracks into understanding mixed with compassion. “I’m sorry, Zoe. I had no idea; I didn’t even think…” He shakes his head. “I forgot she did that. It was only for a few months, and then she decided she didn’t want to become a nurse after all.”

  I offer a tight smile, a torrent of unexpected tears squeezing my throat, burning behind my nose. It’s still difficult for me to recall any memories from that period of my life and not cry.

  I held onto my hope desperately, with everything I had until the very end. When Mom passed, all the hope I ever had disappeared like a big black hole, sucking away all the dreams and happiness I once took for granted and replacing it with darkness. A midnight so severe it took several years for me to paint a dawn.

  “Violet.” Eli’s voice is low, almost husky.

  I blink, and he comes back into focus as the long hospital hallways and the stench of antibacterial gel fade from my mind.

  “We should work out.” I clear my throat.

  Eli nods, his eyes wary as they pass over my face. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his wallet and passes me a key card to his suite. “I have a meeting after this, but tonight, tonight we’ll talk. Okay?”

  His strong gaze, coupled with his gentle tone, settles me once more. I exhale, feeling my footing return as I gesture toward the workout equipment set up a few paces away. “Okay.”

  20

  Eli

  My confusion from Violet’s confession has snowballed into total bafflement by the time she appears in my penthouse with the key I slipped her at our workout session.

  Her hair is still wet, the ends drying into messy waves. Colorful yoga pants hug her hips and a long-sleeve tee hangs off one shoulder, tucked casually into the right side of her pants. She’s wearing flip-flops, her toes a hot pink.

  The right side of my mouth tugs up as I drink her in. My dick stirs to life, my mind fills with a barrage of questions, my entire being gravitates toward this beautiful woman who is so unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

  “You look beautiful, Zoe.” I walk toward her, my sweats hanging low on my hips, my chest bare. Stepping into her space, one hand automatically settles on her back as I lean down and brush a kiss across her cheek.

  She inhales audibly, her back straightening. I fight a grin. I love that I still affect her this way, even after countless nights fucking her in every position known to humankind and stretches of daybreak hugging her against my chest, a simple kiss on her cheek still causes her breath to catch, her eyes to widen.

  “I look like a hungover college kid. Harlow talked me into drinks.” Her tone is casual even though I know my compliment pleases her.

  “Come on in. I ordered room service.” I walk into the living room, Zoe trailing me.

  “Holy shit, Holt. What’d you order? The entire menu?”

  Shrugging, I gesture for her to take a seat.

  We both sit on the floor, the coffee table littered with four different entrees and a few appetizers between us. “Honestly, I’m starving.” I admit, digging into a vegetable spring roll.

  “Same.” Zoe replies, her mouth already stuffed with crab meat. “How was your meeting?”

  “Pretty good. It was just with Gray to discuss the film, some of the artistic elements he’s thinking of using.”

  “He wanted your opinion?”

  Snorting, I point my fork at her. “I’m more than just a pretty face and a sexy body, you know.”

  She throws a balled-up napkin at me, missing completely. “Coulda fooled me.” She wiggles her eyebrows, holding up a long noodle with her fingers and dropping it into her mouth.

  “Classy.” I reach over to steal some noodles off her plate.

  She pushes her plate closer and the gesture, so subtle, warms me from the inside out. This, this right here, the casual, easygoing, natural exchange of conversation over no-fuss food, eaten on the floor off a coffee table is why I’m so drawn to Zoe Clark. She’s everything I never knew I wanted, and nothing like I’ve ever had.

  We eat in easy silence for a few moments before Zoe clears her throat. Glancing up, she offers me a sheepish, almost apologetic smile. “You want to know about Natalie?” I offer.

  Zoe nods. I don’t miss how her knuckles turn white from her death grip on her fork.

  I take a quick swig of my sparkling water. “Why’re you so nervous, babe?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just, you never mentioned her and I read —”

  My eyebrow quirks up. I didn’t know Zoe followed all the stupid gossip sites.

  “Charlie sent me an article,” she huffs, flicking her wrist by way of explanation. “If it was anyone else, I would have dismissed it, but Natalie…” The way she says Natalie’s name, her voice aching with a sadness I don’t understand, causes the quip on the tip of my tongue to dissolve.

  “So this is more about Natalie than me?” I ask uncertainly, watching Zoe closely.

  “She…she was nice to my mom,” she says, her eyes filling with tears.

  Her voice, her beautiful face brimming with a hurt so overwhelming, steals my breath, causes my entire body to ache. “Oh baby.” I reach out a hand, cupping her cheek. “I’m so damn sorry.”

  “I…I like you, Eli. Mo
re than I ever thought I would.” She clears her throat, and I remember how she straight up told me she wasn’t looking for someone to stick around that first night I kissed her.

  “I set the bar pretty low,” I joke.

  “True.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin, a tiny chortle escaping, but then she blinks and her eyes grow serious. “I know you’ve had some really public relationships. You’ve never fed them with fodder, but you’ve never kept them secret either.”

  “Like with Brooke.”

  “Exactly. But with Natalie, I mean, I had no idea you even dated her. And then, I learn that you guys were together for years. And that she married and divorced Gray, the director of this film. And I know her. Kind of.” She stresses the last part and an image of Natalie, dressed in her candy striper uniform, her face open and carefree, flickers in my mind.

  She loved volunteering. She did it for months.

  Eventually, losing her patients wore on her. She grew sadder, more anxious, unable to separate her role as a volunteer from her feelings as a person watching others suffer. So she quit.

  Hearing Zoe speak about her, hearing her share how much her mom liked Natalie, allows me to remember Natalie the way she was. Before.

  Before the fights and the jealousy. Before the pregnancy and the abortion. Before all the toxicity burned whatever good was between us. And before only the guilt of the past was the binding that held us together. Continues to connect us today.

  “Why would you work for the ex-husband of your ex-girlfriend, your high school sweetheart?”

  “He’s one of the best directors of his time,” I explain, my respect for his work no secret. “Besides, how would it look if I turned down the role, the opportunity to expand my brand and learn from one of the best, because of a girl I dated in high school?”

  “So you did want to turn it down? You were just scared about what people would think?”

  I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  “There’s more to this story,” she says, an unmistakable confidence in her tone. Her eyes nearly plead with me to be honest, and my stomach sinks at her intuition.

  “It was a business decision, babe. The movie truly was a business decision. But everything else —” I pause, collecting my thoughts.

  “Eli, please.” Her voice breaks. When I glance into her face, I see shadows I don’t understand.

  Swearing softly, I incline my head toward hers. “Look, Natalie and me, we’re complicated. There’s a lot of history there, and a lot of hurts and —”

  “Do you still love her?”

  “What?” My head snaps back up and I breathe in Zoe’s tortured expression.

  “Do you still love her?” She repeats the question, her voice strong even as her eyes swirl with hurt.

  This is it. The moment where I need to eat all my fucking lies from earlier or own them and forge ahead.

  Zoe squares her shoulders, staring at me with a hardness that causes my chest to ache even though I’m impressed at how calmly she handles herself. She’s a goddamn warrior, never flinching from my gaze.

  “I’m not in love with her,” I finally admit, the confession coloring the air between us. “I haven’t been in love with her for a long, long time.”

  “So then why did you keep her a secret? Why didn’t you tell me about her? Is it because we’re just casual?” Hurt wraps around her tone as vulnerability flares in her eyes.

  “No.”

  “Is it because of Gray?”

  “Gray?”

  “Out of respect for him? His marriage?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I didn’t tell you about her because she doesn’t matter anymore. A long time ago, I did love her. I thought she was the goddamn sun, and I orbited around her like the forgotten planet of Pluto.”

  “Pluto’s not a planet anymore.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t understand —”

  “She had an abortion.” The words rip from my throat, coming out jangled and incoherent.

  “What?”

  “We were having a baby.” I work a swallow, hating that the truth still cuts, that just admitting the words out loud picks at so many wounds with too many layers of scabs. “And she terminated it.”

  The shock that blooms in Zoe’s expression is almost like sweet relief. It flickers across her face in varying degrees before her eyes take on a haunted glow. Her fingers curl into her hands, nails scratching against the top of the coffee table. “And you wanted the baby?”

  “A whole basketball team of them.” My voice is raspy, longing for a truth I’m reluctant to admit. I may have let it slip during our game of Two Truths and a Lie, but now I’m confiding in her for real. Sharing a truth I haven’t been able to tell anyone, not even Evan. “I want a family. I’ve always wanted a family, to be a real dad. The opposite of the non-example I had growing up until Mom married Derek.”

  My hand curls around my sparkling water, just for something to hold, as I admit the rest. “Natalie broke us, broke a part of me, when she had an abortion. Not because I wouldn’t have supported her decision. I would have. I know it was hers to make. But because she didn’t even tell me she was planning to do it, I never got to process anything while it was happening, only after. And that hurt.”

  My hand moves to my chest, the heel of it digging in, deeper and deeper, searching for something solid to settle on. “I thought we were more than that. A handful of months later, I left Chicago and my career took off. After that, she moved to L.A., and she met Gray.” I spit his name, staring right at Zoe. “Gray Preston is the best in the business. He was the best four years ago too. He swept her off her feet, and she never looked back. Except on the nights when she couldn’t handle her own guilt. The nights when she was a new bride, and instead of warming her husband’s bed, she hit the bottle and called me, sobbing. I never hung up the phone first or ignored one of her calls until the night I met you.” I admit, hating myself for how long I enabled Natalie’s behavior without ever providing the help she really needed. Hating myself for still not confiding in Gray that his ex-wife, his then-wife, needed more support than he could ever understand. Hating myself for not always taking her calls and sometimes leaving her hanging since I became captivated by Zoe Clark.

  “Why?” she whispers, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Why would she still call you when she married Gray?”

  “Because I was the only person who could understand the depth of the pain she felt, of the guilt she carried.”

  “But didn’t she hurt you?”

  “We hurt each other. A lot. Our relationship was tumultuous and toxic. We tore each other down and then built each other back up just to tear down again. But she’s the mother of my unborn child. The least I can do for her is not turn my back when she needs someone to listen.” My hand clenches, the sparkling water sloshing over the rim and spilling onto the table. “And I’ll stand by that.”

  “I’m sorry.” Zoe’s eyes track the drops of water, the tiny trail of bubbles on my hand.

  “For what?”

  “Your loss.” She looks up, her honey eyes so damn empathetic that I burn with emotions I don’t know how to express.

  “Thank you. One day, I’m going to make a lot of babies with a woman who is as eager and desperate to be a mama as I am to be a dad. And then, I’m going to be the best goddamn daddy there is.”

  “I believe you.”

  21

  Zoe

  Eli’s confession rocks my world, throwing me off-balance, changing the center of gravity.

  The floor shifts beneath me, the air pulses with an energy I’ve never felt, and time slows. The drops of water on his wrist glisten, the noodles on my plate transform into a complicated puzzle, and the sound of my pulse in my ears blocks out everything else. My fingers tremble and I tuck them in my lap, wringing my hands together.

  Eli wants babies. A whole basketball team.

  He wants babies.

  It’s different now, hearing hi
m say the words, seeing the devastating expression on his face, than it was the night at the bar. This isn’t a game; this is his heart’s desire.

  The backs of my eyes burn and my throat seems incapable of forming words, just a strangled groan I swallow back.

  Fuck.

  My heart shatters, fragmented chunks of longing exploding into pieces of resentment that disintegrate into heartbreak.

  I will never bear children. Not even for a man as powerful as Eli Holt. Not even for a heart as desperate as my own.

  “Hey.” His voice sounds far-off, as if he’s speaking to me underwater. I look up, my eyes searching for his gaze until I’m drowning in two pools of green, wondering if I even want to find oxygen. “You okay, baby? I know that was a lot. I-I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I whisper, scraping my palms along the underside of the table, trying to anchor myself to something tangible. Does he know? Does he suspect?

  “I unloaded on you and, well, it’s a lot.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “Is it cold in here?” I blurt out, my eyes scanning the room for an open window or an ice storm or something that would make sense of the fact that shivers are wracking down my spine.

  “Violet.” Eli must move because in the next blink, he’s crouching next to me, his hand massaging the small of my back, his eyes boring into mine with so much concern I could cry.

  His eyes are hypnotizing, laying bare a thousand truths, secrets to a life I’ll never share. But for this one moment, staring into the depth of emotions swirling in his green eyes, I let myself freefall.

  My hands stop their desperate tapping against the table and cup his cheeks instead. The stubble that grazes my palms roots me to the moment. My eyes flutter closed and I feel Eli’s exhale fan across my lips, like a soft breeze. I lean into him, and the air between us shrinks as he moves closer, his mouth arcing over mine like a shooting star.

  I make a wish. The wish.

  His lips touch mine, instantly pulling me under.