Twisted Lies 4 (Dirty Secrets) Read online

  ABOUT TWISTED LIES 4

  DIRTY SECRETS SERIES BOOK 4

  For Core and Sin… there’s a thin line between love and hate—and nothing is what it seems.

  Core’s a billionaire bad boy—living in a dangerous world—with an empire filled with dirty secrets, twisted lies, and scorching lust. He’s a corporate god, one that sassy, curvy Sin hasn’t been able to avoid… or resist. But now the truth has come to light, and all secrets have been unveiled. Lives are destroyed, and old wounds resurface.

  It changes everything.

  Core and Sin are teetering on losing the love of a lifetime.

  A decision must be made… but Core has one last chance to make Sin his—or ruin what they have—permanently.

  Sin is the only one who can heal Core’s broken heart—but she no longer knows if she wants it.

  Can Sin trust Core? Or will she walk away and abandon their future… forever?

  Twisted Lies 4 is the last book in the suspenseful and sexy contemporary romance Dirty Secrets Series by author Sedona Venez. A steamy romp of twists and shocking turns, readers will fall in love one last time with the ending of the popular and highly anticipated Twisted Lies serial.

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  TWISTED LIES 4

  Dirty Secrets Series Book 4

  USA Today Best-Selling Author

  SEDONA VENEZ

  Copyright © 2018 by Sedona Venez

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Editing: Jovana Shirley, Lisa Hollett

  Proofreading: Cassie McCown

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

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  Official Sedona Venez Newsletter

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  ABOUT TWISTED LIES 4

  COPYRIGHT

  EPIGRAPH

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  “Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes, it is letting go.”

  —Hermann Hesse

  I JOLTED AWAKE, ROLLING ONTO the other side of the bed, flipping over onto my stomach, and pressing my face into the pillow. I inhaled Core’s scent—amber and sandalwood.

  When we’d woken up early this morning, he’d taken me in every part of his master suite and bathroom. And when I’d thought my pussy couldn’t take another round of pounding, he’d taken me again while we showered together—me with my legs around his waist, water raining down on us, and him fucking the hell out of me.

  Hell… he fucks like a damn stallion.

  Granted, I was no stranger to freaking fantastic sex, but this thing with Core felt… different… in ways I didn’t understand.

  From the first day I’d met him, there had been an instant connection, a spark that tethered me to him. And for weeks, almost every night, I’d crawl into bed with his name on my lips and my trusty and reliable vibrator, Beast, between my thighs. And I’d find myself waking from dreams of Core with needs Beast couldn’t fully satisfy. It was embarrassing and problematic because wanting a man who was within my reach that I couldn’t have was fucking with my head—big time—until I finally gave myself to him at the McKay Club. Well, technically, I’d had sex with him in his Noire lounge—his private, members-only playground, where the rich and famous indulged in discreet sexual fantasies.

  Rolling over onto my back, I kicked off the blanket that had been tangled around my body before swinging my legs off the side of the bed. Trying to clear my sleep-fogged brain, I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees and clutching my head. I was exhausted from the last round of sex with Core.

  This was way too much. I needed to take a moment to focus on something else besides fucking Core.

  Sighing, I sat up before scrubbing my hands over my face.

  I stood, deciding to take a hot shower to loosen up my muscles. Walking over to the chair with his black T-shirt draped across it, I picked it up, tugging it over my head. Instantly, I was engulfed in his very virile and masculine scent.

  The image of his sexy eyes flashed through my mind.

  Yep… he’s destroyed me. The cocky but well-hung fucker.

  I padded into his impressive master bathroom and spotted all of Core’s toiletries lined up and perfectly organized on his marble countertops, as opposed to my stuff that was scattered about, creating a hot, disorganized mess.

  He was the poster child for a man who demanded control and dominance, which was everything I deplored in a man… or at least I’d thought I did. But the more time I spent with him, the more confused I became about what I really wanted from our relationship and from him.

  Do I want just sex or more?

  He was complicated and dangerous with a whole lot of crazy mixed in. Plus, there was something about him that I couldn’t quite figure out.

  He was like that box of chocolates from Forrest Gump. I never quite knew what I was going to get next.

  Dominant Core.

  Asshole Core.

  Caring Core.

  Sensual Core.

  Or take-no-shit Core…

  On the flip side, he was constantly shattering everything I’d expected him to be—cold, narcissistic, and uncaring.

  My thoughts drifted to last night when he’d shocked the shit out of me by taking care of me and protecting me when I felt exhausted, mentally and physically, after my townhouse had been broken into. Smoothly, Core had stepped in, taking charge of everything, including calling the police and fielding the barrage of questions from the officers, while I numbly rode a roller coaster of emotions—shock, fear, denial, and anger.

  Damn. This shit with Core is uncharted territory for me.

  My mind went back to the incident between us this morning when he’d gotten out of bed, tucked the sheets tightly around my body, and then kissed my forehead.

  Before he’d walked out of the room, I’d heard him mumble, “Damn. What am I doing? I could get used to this…”

  And, silently, I’d agreed.

  With feet slapping against the marble floor, I turned on the rain shower, adjusting the temperature to hot.

  Am I really thinking about trying to have a… relationship with Core?

  My gut started churning with fear.

  Breathe, Sin.

  Take control of yourself.

  There will be no attachments and absolutely no relationship.

  Nope. Hard pass on that shit.

  I stripped off Core’s T-shirt before stepping beneath the showerhead and scrubbing at my skin as the je
ts beat against my body.

  My heart was permanently closed off, and I planned on keeping it that way. Many had tried, and all had failed. Besides, there were just too many sides to Core. Some I knew, and some I suspected he deliberately hid from me. But what I did know was he was smart, savvy, and calculating in everything he did. And when it came down to it, I was his business asset.

  And if there was one thing I knew without a doubt, it was that business and sex did not mix. Yet here I was, allowing Core to disassemble me like a fucking toy and remake me into a woman I didn’t know. Now I felt exposed in a way that scared the living shit out of me. I hadn’t spent the night in a man’s bed in forever… yet I had with Core.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’m doing everything I swore I’d never do… Get attached.

  INTERNALLY, I WAS SCREAMING WHILE I quickly washed my body and hair, rinsing away the shampoo and soap. Snatching one of Core’s luxurious towels, I dried myself off before leaving the bathroom. After getting dressed, I clasped the silver bracelet Dad had given me for my seventeenth birthday around my wrist before gathering all of my stuff.

  When I bolted for the bedroom door, I felt like I was in a burning building and all I could see were the little lit-up red exit signs. “I’m so fucking out of here,” I mumbled under my breath while walking out of Core’s bedroom with my overnight bag in tow.

  “All right. A cup of coffee. Okay, maybe two,” I groused while padding down the stairs, “and then I’m getting the hell out of here.” Unabashedly, I was never one to forgo coffee in the morning, even despite a potentially awkward situation with Core before I hit the road.

  I marched through Core’s palatial penthouse that was so huge that I could do cartwheels. His home was stunning, and it seemed like every detail had been considered at its conception—from the marble foyer with its discreet keyed private elevator that opened directly into his residence to the high ceilings, the marble-and-glass-enclosed fireplace in the living room, and the wide-plank, rift-sawed white oak flooring throughout.

  From somewhere in the space, I heard Core’s voice bark, “That’s none of your fucking business, Ram!” There was a beat of silence before Core hissed, “Would you fucking stop whining like a damn girl?”

  I rolled my eyes. He must be on his cell, and he sounded pissed. But that was nothing new. The fucker was always mad at something or someone. I was just happy it wasn’t me… yet.

  I followed the sound of his deep voice.

  “Yes, Ram. I know you’ve had Jeff on ice for hours,” he responded. “I’ve been busy.” Silence again. “Oh, fuck off! I don’t give a shit what you think.” Core paused for another beat. “Yeah, real funny, fucker. Now let’s get to business. Have you finished softening him up?” There was a long pause. “Good. When I get there, we’ll start the real work…”

  Ice for hours?

  Softening him up?

  What the hell?

  Exactly what type of shit is Core into?

  Is he a self-made billionaire, crime boss, or both?

  I scowled. And what did it say about me that I was so far in with Core that I didn’t give a damn either way?

  I skidded to a stop when I found him standing in the kitchen, talking on his cell with his shirt off and annoyance written all over his face.

  His head snapped in my direction. “Ram, I’ve got to go. Yes. I’ll be right there,” he roared before ending the call and sliding the cell across the countertop.

  “Business deal gone south?” I inquired.

  His face twitched. “Something like that.” He flicked his eyes to the overnight bag I’d dropped by my feet. He rasped, “You going somewhere, Sin?”

  There was no smile. When he crossed his muscular arms, my eyes traveled up his tall, well-built body that was pure, rippling muscle. Hardened abs trailed downward to the waist of his black designer-looking jeans.

  Damn, no man should look this fucking good all the time.

  And why the hell wasn’t he wearing a damn shirt? His body, from chest to wrist, was a beautiful composition of Japanese tattoos and other beast-themed ink.

  “Yep,” I replied. “I’ve got shit to do.”

  He arched a brow. “Like?”

  “Like it’s none of your business,” I replied while slowly plodding toward him, stepping into his massive kitchen.

  We stood face to face as I leaned my hip against the granite kitchen counter.

  He made a face. “That’s where you’re wrong. Everything about you is my business.” He was studying me too closely, his expression brooding.

  Keeping my gazed fixed on him, I replied, “The only thing that’s officially your business is my company. Well, ninety-seven percent of it anyway.” My statement was a deliberate jab. A reminder that he didn’t own me and that I was still in control.

  “You’re the most infuriating woman I know.” His calm response ignited my frustration.

  I wanted to piss him off.

  I needed his anger to fuel my will to hightail it away from him and away from this suffocating intimacy.

  I needed him to save me from myself.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, McKay.”

  “It wasn’t.” His lips curled into the faintest of ironic smiles.

  “Why, sure it is. Besides, you love my sassiness and my sexy ass, which I’ll be hustling on out of here once I have my coffee.” I leaned in and tapped his cheek before allowing my hand to drop away. “Okay, enough of this morning chitchat. Coffee, McKay.”

  “What’s the magic word?” He countered.

  “Now,” I chirped.

  He growled.

  “Please.” I comically batted my eyes.

  In answer, he reached out, grazing the side of my cheek, leaving a tingle in his wake before abruptly walking away from me and toward his espresso machine.

  Holy shit! Core McKay is actually going to make me coffee.

  I wasn’t used to a man doing something remotely nice for me because I was so used to doing things alone.

  I drew my lower lip between my teeth while staring at him.

  He pressed the button on the gadget and placed a cup beneath the brew head to capture the wonderful stream of black liquid gold. When a sufficient amount of coffee had flowed into the cup, he filled another one and brought them over.

  He pushed a cup into my hand. “So?” He started in his quiet, rough voice.

  “So what?” I grumbled, lifting the cup to my lips and taking a small sip, savoring a much-needed awakening.

  Glancing around, I took in his kitchen, which was a chef’s dream—with top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances, including a wall oven and cooktop with a concealed range hood, a subzero refrigerator, and wine storage. Everything in the space gleamed—from the lacquer and glass cabinetry to the granite countertops and backsplash as well as a dishwasher with a built-in lacquer panel.

  “What are your plans for today?” Core asked.

  I choked on a mouthful of coffee.

  Idle morning chitchat?

  Is this what normal people do?

  I shifted uncomfortably, feeling out of my depth as I tried to recall the number of times I’d engaged in casual banter the morning after having sex with a man. The number was zero.

  With most of my previous sexual encounters, I’d actually had an exit strategy before having sex. My solution was to keep one high-heeled boot dangling just outside the door at all times. I would time it perfectly. After we both climaxed, I would simply follow the evacuation instructions I had practiced over and over in my head, and—poof—crisis averted. I was out of my hookup’s bed before he could even pull out of me.

  Ignoring Core’s question, I took another sip, eyeing the cup sitting on the counter. “Why aren’t you drinking your coffee?”

  “It’s for you.”

  I frowned. His sweet gesture instantly raised my guard. I waited for the other shoe to drop. Is he fucking serious?

  This shit is too good to be true.

  What is he af
ter?

  “So that’s your evil plan? Ply me with coffee, hoping to get my agenda?”

  “Yep. Is it working?” He winked at me.

  “No,” I mumbled before draining the cup and placing it on the counter. “But I know you’re like a dog with a bone, and you won’t let this shit go until I tell you.” I pursed my lips. “I’m going home to assess the damage that bastard did to my townhouse.” Something I really wasn’t looking forward to.

  My mind spun just remembering the chaos waiting for me in my home. The image from last night’s mayhem was burned in my mind.

  An intruder had violated my personal space, my home and sanctuary, and then destroyed all my shit. It was like a tornado had ripped through my home. Furniture had been slashed and thrown about. Kitchen drawers were pulled out. Broken glass and dishes littered the floor. Throw pillows had been cut, and down feathers were scattered everywhere. Nothing had been left untouched. And all I could think about was…

  What if I had been home?

  Would I be dead right now?

  And who the fuck would have done some vile shit like that?

  “Sin,” Core started, “there’s no need for you to run home. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t until I can sort out who broke into your house.”

  “Hell no!” I snapped. “I’m not going to cower in your penthouse, waiting for your ass to figure this out.” I clenched and unclenched my hands at my sides.

  I refused to let terror control my life. By facing my fears head on, I not only was confronting what was making me so afraid—seeing months of hard work on my collection ruined and coming to terms with the daunting task of starting over—but I was also taking back control and choosing not to let the break-in dictate what I could and could not do. No one had the right to stop me from achieving my dreams.

  “Core, I’m not running away from this. I’m going home.”

  Rage coursed through my veins when I thought about the worst part of the destruction—the remnants of my couture collection ripped into pieces and thrown around like confetti.