Filthy Beautiful Lies Read online

  "Okay," I mumble. I hate feeling so helpless, but I can do nothing but depend on him, my new, confusing master. Before retreating up the stairs, I give both brothers another handshake and we exchange goodbyes. Then I duck off to the safety of the master suite, needing a few minutes alone to recover from all the testosterone taking up residence in the kitchen.

  Chapter Five

  Sophie

  Once I’m alone upstairs, I know I can’t delay the phone call I need to make any longer. I sit down on the upholstered chaise lounge chair in the master suite and dial my mom’s cell, waiting anxiously for her to pick up.

  "Sophie?"

  "Yeah, it’s me Mom." With all that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, it’s more grounding than I realized just to hear her voice.

  "Where are you?" she asks.

  "In LA, staying with a friend. I needed some time away – a break."

  She’s quiet and I know she’s processing what I’ve told her. I don’t have any friends in Los Angeles, but she doesn’t question me.

  "This friend I’m staying with…he, he owns a company and he’s graciously offered to um," I stumble over my words, drawing a deep breath. God, I suck at lying. "He’s offered to front the money to get Becca into the trial program."

  "What have you done, Sophie?" her tone desperate and more harsh than I recall.

  It’s not the reaction I’m expecting.

  "The money is in your account. Use it to get Becca the care she needs." My voice is almost clinical as I fight to hold my emotions together. Never once in my wildest imagination had I thought my mom would be suspicious of me. Of course I knew she’d wonder where the money came from, but I thought she’d be so grateful that she’d accept the story of a generous anonymous donor without argument.

  She doesn’t say anything else about the money, but I hear her sniffle. "How long will you be away?"

  "A while," I confirm.

  "Take care of yourself."

  "I will. Just take care of Becca. I love you guys."

  "Sophie?" I hear Drake’s voice from the hall before he steps into the room.

  I toss my phone down onto the chair and stand, quickly wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands. "Yes?"

  He’s holding a coffee cup on a saucer and carrying a miniature pitcher of cream. "You didn’t get your coffee."

  The gesture is sweet and unexpected. I accept the cup from him, the fragrant brew is exactly what I need right now. There’s a packet of sugar and a tiny stirring spoon on the saucer.

  "I didn’t know how you took it."

  "With cream and sugar. This is perfect. Thank you."

  He nods. "Everything…okay?"

  "Yes." I straighten my spine. He didn’t pay for drama and I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about my problems back home. "I just called my mom. Everything’s going to be fine now." At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

  A frown line momentarily creases his forehead, before his expression returns to the relaxed, neutral one I’ve come to expect. "Marta should be here in about an hour. You’ll probably want to get yourself ready."

  "Thanks again." I tip the coffee to my lips and watch as he exits the room.

  After finishing my coffee, I decide to prepare for Marta’s arrival. I run myself a bubble bath in the extra-large soaker tub and sink into the warmth, letting the hot water strip away my earlier tension.

  The basket beside the tub is stocked with everything I could need and more – luxury bath salts, shampoo, conditioner, facial scrub, razors, and body washes in several different scents. I lose myself in the process, lathering my hair and skin and enjoying the peaceful moment and the fragrant scent of herbs enveloping me.

  Until I hear the bathroom door open.

  I squeak and dive for cover under the bubbles as Drake’s lazy smile lights up his entire face and makes my belly flip.

  "Nothing I haven’t already seen, sweetness. Relax. I’m going to grab a shower. Do I need to use another bathroom, or are you cool with this?"

  Hmm, let’s see. Am I cool with the fact that I now live with a man who’s seemingly comfortable sharing a bathroom with me while we’re both naked as jaybirds? N-to-the-o. Privacy used to be something I valued. I merely nod.

  He twists one of the nobs in the gigantic glass enclosed shower and water pours from the rain-like shower head mounted in the ceiling, then he tugs his shirt off over his head and steps out of the cotton pants he’s wearing. I glimpse a firm, hard ass before slamming my eyes shut. Jesus…does he spend all his free time at the gym?

  The urge to glance over at his nude, muscular body is driving me crazy. I can hear the water spraying against the stone shower floor and the sound is maddening. It’s like being told there’s a priceless oil painting hanging on the wall and you’re prohibited to look at it. Basically, it’s torture. I already know what his manhood looks like, but the desire to steal a peak at the rest of him is almost overwhelming. I resist the temptation, but just barely.

  I quickly finish my bath, thankful that I’d already washed up before Drake decided to join me. I secure the huge white fluffy towel around my body and exit the bathroom as quickly as I can, leaving a puddle of water on the floor in my wake.

  Rather than dressing in my clothes from yesterday, I follow Drake’s lead and put on the clothes he’s laid out for me – another large t-shirt and sweat pants this time, then venture downstairs for a refill on my coffee.

  His brothers are both still in the kitchen and Pace is ransacking the fridge while Collins sits at the island, talking on his cell phone and looking perturbed.

  "So, golfing today, huh?" I attempt to make small talk.

  "You want to join us?" Pace asks.

  I look down at my ensemble. "I don’t think I’m dressed for it."

  He chuckles. "True. But it’d give the stogy old men at Collins’ country club something to talk about other than their stock performance."

  I glance longingly over at the built in coffee machine and then down at my empty cup.

  Pace’s easy smile is back. God, that thing’s becoming addictive. "C’mere, beautiful. Let me show you."

  He takes the cup from me and sets it down on the tiny platform opening and shows me which buttons to press while muttering to himself about the damn pretentious machine. The options are overwhelming for a simple cup of coffee. I’ve never been good with gadgets and this is like a having a live-in barista. The LED display confirms my order – small coffee and I tap brew on the touch pad. I’m rewarded with the satisfying sound of the coffee beginning to pour into my cup and another one of Pace’s adorable grins.

  After adding a splash of milk and a bit of sugar into my coffee, I see Drake enter the kitchen. He’s dressed smartly in dark grey khaki style pants and a white collared shirt that stretches across his muscled chest. Geez, they’re like a polo team – or an advertisement for male cologne. You know, one of those where they’re in white pants with bare feet sailing a yacht, smiling at you with gleaming, straight teeth. Drake’s intense stare that I can feel deep inside me, coupled with Pace’s lopsided smile is, overwhelming.

  I set my coffee down on the island with shaking hands as Drake stalks toward me.

  Colton

  Approaching Sophie where she stands near the kitchen island, it’s impossible to keep my eyes from slipping down over her curves. Her nipples have hardened against the t-shirt she’s wearing. My t-shirt. I don’t like that she’s on display in front of my brothers. And Pace needs to keep his damn eyes to himself. If I see that dumbass dopey grin on his face one more time, I’m going to punch it off.

  Looking at her, and imagining what’s under that t-shirt, I struggle to keep my thoughts clean. My mind wanders back to last night when she stripped for me.

  At the auction when she kept her arms locked over her breasts, I assumed there was something she was hiding. I didn’t think it was anything as grotesque as a third nipple – but I’d thought maybe she had a birthmark, or a mole, or some other imperfection she wanted to keep hidden from the men bidding on her. But there was no such imperfection.

  Sophie was fucking delicious. From her full, heavy tits with small peach colored nipples, to her long, toned legs to her bare pussy – which had been quite unexpected. My cock aches just thinking about it. She’d stripped herself bare for me last night. Her courage was almost overwhelming. She thought I was the one who held the power in our little exchange, but I was smart enough to know, without a doubt, it was her.

  I stalk closer and her trembling hands place the cup and saucer on the counter, but her eyes remain on mine – just like I’d reminded her last night. I’m glad she doesn’t cower from me, especially not in front of my brothers.

  "Marta will take care of you today – she’ll get you what you need, okay?"

  She nods, her posture unsure. I hadn’t planned on leaving her today. I have to work the rest of the week, so today I planned on enjoying her in the many rooms of my home, but if I flake out on my brothers now, I’ll never hear the end of it.

  "What about later?" She looks up and blinks those gorgeous blue eyes at me. I try to read her look. Hesitation? Interest? I shrug it off. I’m sure it’s nothing more than mere curiosity at when I’m going to take her virginity. That’d be the only obvious thing on her mind. It’s her entire purpose for being here.

  I bend down to whisper near her ear, careful that my brothers don’t overhear. "I quite enjoyed my cock in your mouth last night."

  She swallows and lets out a tiny gasp, inaudible to anyone but me. The sound makes my dick flex in my pants. Fuck.

  I raise one hand and stroke her cheek with the back of my knuckles. "You’re really good at sucking cock, you know that, right?"

  I check her eyes for her reaction, but this information looks like news to her. Okay, so maybe she’s just good at sucking mine. Even better news. Her cheeks are rosy and pink and her eyes dart around me, checking to see if my brothers are listening to us. They are, but I’m sure they’re acting like they’re not.

  She licks her lips, completely unaware how erotic that sight is to me. Is it possible to golf with a raging erection? Apparently I’m about to find out.

  "Enjoy your day with Marta, but then be ready for me tonight." It’s not a request and a she simply nods.

  I head out with my brothers, tossing my clubs into the back of Collins’ SUV and then climb into the passenger seat. I’d completely forgotten about golf today. I hated golf, but Collins had joined the Beverly Hills country club to woo some stuffy client, and he’d been on me and Pace to join him for golf so he could feel like he was getting his money’s worth at the overpriced club.

  "So, are you fucking her, or what?" Collins asks before we’re even out of my driveway, not wasting a second.

  "Are we really going to talk about this like we’re back in high school?" I ask, keeping my expression bored and fixed on the road.

  "Fuck yeah we are." Pace leans forward between the seats, resting on the console. "She’s hot and you know it. Hot enough that Collins forgot all about his supermodel girlfriend."

  That was fucking funny. Nothing rattled Collins.

  "No one would blame you if you were," Collins continues. "After what that redheaded bitch did to you."

  Why in the fuck was everyone bringing up Stella? I bite down, tasting blood.

  "I’m not fucking her," I answer. At least not yet. "She’s my friend’s sister," I remind them.

  "Right, John from Harvard." Collins smirks. He knows just as well as I do that Sophie’s not from the east coast. Why in the fuck had she said she was from Boston?

  "Well, she’s not my friend’s sister, and I have a guest room in my condo. I’ll take her if you don’t want her," Pace replies, completely oblivious.

  He’s not taking her anywhere, but I’m not about to engage in a childish argument over my own property.

  Chapter Six

  Sophie

  With a name like Marta, I was expecting a dowdy older housekeeper type with a gray bun and sensible shoes, certainly not the twenty-something blonde who shows up in a cute sundress and strappy sandals with a Chanel bag slung over her shoulder.

  "Sophie?" she asks, pulling off the large sunglasses that cover her eyes.

  "Yes. Marta, I assume?"

  She nods and extends her hand. "You do need a wardrobe, don’t you?" Her gaze travels down my body, taking in Drake’s baggy clothes and she bites her lip. Then she pulls a pair of cut off jean shorts and a tank top from her bag and hands them to me. "Colton said you’d need something to borrow for today."

  "Colton?" I ask, accepting the clothes.

  Her eyebrows pinch together. "Colton Drake? The man whose home you’re staying in."

  I nod. Colton Drake. Even his name is sexy. He hadn’t exactly given me a fake name after all. I smile when I remember Pace calling him Coco this morning.

  "Most of his staff calls him Mr. Drake." She shrugs. "But he’s just Colton to me."

  Interesting. I wonder what else she is to him. She’s tiny and gorgeous with her tanned skin and blond curls and I feel self-conscious in her presence.

  When I return from the guest bath down the hall, I’m dressed in the shorts and tank top, feeling thankful for something to wear, even if they are a little on the tight side, and then I retrieve my purse and shoes from upstairs.

  "Ready?" she asks.

  I nod and follow her outside into the bright sunshine.

  I climb into the little red sports car convertible beside her, tugging at the too short shorts.

  She presses a button near the rearview mirror and the roof lowers and folds back neatly into the trunk. I guess I’ll need to get used to my new LA life.

  "How did you say you knew Colton? He was kind of vague on the details," she asks, pulling out of his private drive.

  I repeat the story that he and I settled on and she nods along without questioning me.

  "What did Drake, I mean, Colton tell you about me?" I ask.

  "He said that you’d be staying awhile and that you’d need pretty much everything."

  "Oh." I get quiet as I look out at the scenic drive we’re cruising down, remembering the phone call with my mom.

  "Listen, Sophie, I know it’s not my place to pry, but if you’re in some kind of trouble, if you need anything…even a friend to listen…I’m happy to help."

  I suppose it did sound suspicious. I’d showed up out of the blue without a stitch of clothing to spare. "No, it’s nothing like that. Just a fresh start." I smile, trying to lighten the mood.

  "Well, the offer stands. And I know Colton better than anyone. It’s not like him to just move a woman in."

  I swallow and wonder what she means. I realize Marta could give me information about him, probably more than anyone else. "How long have you worked for him?" I want to inquire about exactly what her role is, but I’m not sure if there’s a polite way to word it.

  "Oh gosh, Colton and I have quite the history. Where do I start?" She laughs and I glance over at her. Her smile is gorgeous, and her loose blonde waves drift around her face in the subtle breeze, but all I’m able to concentrate on is her implied familiarity with my new owner.

  Have they slept together? Are they currently sleeping together? I don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me before, but Colton has no obligation to be faithful to me. A thought that makes my stomach cramp. While I’m blowing him in private and giving him the most precious part of me, he could be off wining and dining other women. Beautiful, confident women like Marta. I knew this situation wasn’t going to be ideal, but I also never imagined I’d be living with such an eligible young bachelor like Colton Drake. Already he’s affecting me in ways I didn’t anticipate.

  "Mm, let’s see. I’ve been his personal assistant for…" She purses her lips. "Six years now. I began at his office as a receptionist, but our personalities just clicked and I started working for him personally a short time after that. Having someone he can trust in his home and private life is important to him."

  I nod, but the truth is, I don’t know him at all. It’s weird to think that I know what he looks like naked, but I don’t actually know him know him. And I want to. Why is he so successful at such a young age and why in the world did he go to that auction in the first place? Questions burn through my mind like a raging inferno.

  We spend the afternoon in various boutique shops, where I try on and purchase jeans, shorts, sundresses and tops, all on Colton Drake’s gold card that Marta whips out at every transaction. For once I actually have money, but after Marta reprimanded me for trying to pay and said that Colton had instructed her everything was to go on his card, I stopped fighting it.

  We already have several full shopping bags of clothes and are at our last stop of the day – a lingerie boutique for some much needed bras and panties.

  I’m digging through a bin of simple cotton panties, the kind that fill my drawers back home when I sense Marta’s presence beside me. She eyes the pretty pair of pale yellow boy shorts trimmed in lace and purses her lips. "Colton favors dark colors," she says.

  My stomach twists again at her implied familiarity with the man I’m currently sharing a bed with. I want to argue, to tell her it’s not like that between me and him, but instead, I drop the forgotten undergarment into the bin and continue looking. From the corner of my eye, I can see her eyeing me suspiciously. Maybe that was a test, and I’ve just answered her question about my relationship with him without saying a single word. Oh well. I do have a sexual relationship with him – or at least I am going to soon – and there’ll be no sense hiding it.

  Stocking up on basic black and navy bikinis and matching bras, I find Marta browsing in the clearance area of the store. She doesn’t seem the type to need to shop in the discount section, but I secretly like that she’s thrifty. I am too.

  It’s not lost on me that she’s likely my best source of information on Colton. I mean, geez, I didn’t even know his first name before she’d told me. I wondered what else I could get her to let slip.

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