Page 73 of Twisted Truths

“I remember that locket and the pearls hanging in front of me. That’s how I know it was her.”

“What does she want?”

His forehead creases. “What do you mean?”

My head tilts. “You’re a billionaire. She must be here because she wants something. Has she told you what it is?”

His hand rubs my hip then squeezes. “She just recently went back to the beach. She was so shaken up over what happened it took her that long to want to go in the water again. Someone there mentioned how a guy I’d hired had been asking around about who saved me, so she called me, and I asked her to come here. She hasn’t asked for money, but I’m going to offer her some in the hopes that she’ll take it.”

My hand runs down his shoulder, and my fingers flex, grabbing his shirt for a second before I smooth the fabric back out. “You can’t do that.”

My reaction must come across with the panic I feel because he looks at me strangely and removes my hand from his shirt. “Why not?”

Because once Uma knows she can get money out of you, she’ll never stop trying to siphon you dry. She’ll never go away and leave us alone.

I shrug, trying to temper my reaction. “I just think it sets a dangerous precedent. What if she comes back for more?”

Obsidian slides his hand into the hair at the back of my head and draws my face forward. “I owe her. If it weren’t for my accident, my brothers likely never would have hired me an assistant, and I never would have met you. I have her to thank for saving me and setting me on this new course in my life—you.”

He’s not wrong, only he doesn’t know the twisted truth behind his words.

“I heard you tell Marcel to make up a room for her. Why is she staying here?”

“She didn’t make any arrangements for herself before she came into town. She’s between jobs at the moment, so I told her she can stay as long as she likes.” He shrugs as though it’s no big deal. “I owe her everything I have, Ariana.”

I nod and place a chaste kiss on his mouth. “Okay, I just wasn’t sure what was going on. Sorry if I came on strong.”

He grins. “No apology necessary. Be jealous anytime.” He gives me a kiss that leaves little doubt as to whether I should be concerned that Leah’s caught his eye or not.

But that’s not what I’m worried about at all. I want to know the real reason Leah’s here.

That night, I tell Obsidian I’m not feeling well and that I’m going to sleep in my own bed.

I’m awoken in the middle of the night by him pushing into me from above. I don’t know how I never hear him open the heavy bedroom door that creaks on its hinges. It takes me a moment to get my bearings, as it always does, but the delicious stretch around his girth makes me hum in approval.

I forget that a snake is sleeping under the same roof as us. Then again, maybe I’m the snake.

We never speak when he comes to me like this. At least nothing more than the soft, murmured words of desperation when we’re close to climaxing.

He rocks into me, black eyes glittering down at me with so much love and adoration that it makes me want to weep. This may be the last time we get to experience something like this together. I’ve betrayed him, and I have no doubt that he’s close to finding out. He’ll know what a liar I am and how I’m the one who’s not good enough for him.

My hands go into his hair, and he bends down and kisses me. Our mouths part, and our tongues meet, slowly circling in a dance of their own.

My orgasm builds inside me, and when my walls clamp down around him, he spills into me, and I will myself to commit this feeling to memory, wishing I could bottle it up like that jar of sand Obsidian has from the beach. So that I can always remember what it feels like to be loved by a man like Obsidian, because it’s moments from ending, I know it.

Chapter

Thirty-One

OBSIDIAN

Ariana has been on edge for the past two nights. The first night Leah arrived, she got settled, but the next night, I insisted to Ariana that we dine with Leah out on one of the patios to show my appreciation. Ariana barely said a word the entire meal.

I’m not sure if it’s jealousy making her act so out of character, but I don’t think so. It seems like something more than that, something different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. When I questioned her after dinner, she said she was tired and still not feeling one hundred percent.

I’m on my way back to my office, one of Mrs. Potter’s amazing cappuccinos in hand, when Marcel calls my name from behind me. I stop and turn to face him. His jaw is tense, and he’s frowning.

“Everything okay, Marcel?”

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