Vicious Lies (Lies 1)

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your employee?” Liesel asks, batting her eyes like a shy little girl at Shawn.

Liesel isn’t shy. This is all an act.

“No, you don’t need to know anyone. And they already know who you are.”

“Oh? What did you tell them about me?”

“You’re a lying bitch, and they shouldn’t trust you.” I drop her hand.

“At least I’m not a murdering asshole.”

I grab her hand again and pull her toward the house. I’m tired of dealing with her smart mouth.

“I’ll show you around.” The sooner I give her a tour, the sooner I can be done with her. I’ll lock her up in a room and run the hell away.

If I spend too much time with her, I’ll lose my mind.

“Pool,” I say, pointing out the infinity pool that rivals any view in the world. It shoots out over the cliff and looks down at the beach. The sun sets every night over the ocean, and my house has a perfect view.

“Are you just going to state the obvious during this tour or actually point out the things that matter?”

I frown and ignore her, jerking her hand, pulling her along as I walk.

Several of my employees scatter at the sight of us walking in through the back door. Good, they got the message I made clear to Shawn. Don’t talk to us.

“Kitchen,” I point to my left.

“Dinning room,” I nod to my right.

Liesel stops, and my arm jerks back. I think she’s afraid I’m going to lock her in a dungeon, but when I look at her, I realize she stopped because she’s in awe.

She’s taking in all the finishings—the bamboo floors, the giant glass doors that open up the entire house, the handcrafted cabinets.

I take a moment to glance aroun

d and really take in the house, trying to see it for the first time through her eyes.

Her mouth falls open when she spots the porch swing that looks like it’s in the house, when really it sits just outside the living room. When the glass walls close, the swing is outside, but the doors are almost never closed.

Slowly, her head turns to me. “This house…” she whispers.

She can’t finish.

“I didn’t build it for you. I built it for me. This was my dream.”

One of her eyebrows raises—she’s skeptical. She should be. When I built this house, it was built with our childhood dream house in mind. This was the house we both dreamed up when we were nine. This house. Whether I meant to build it for her or for us, it makes no difference. It’s our dream house to a T.

“It’s incredible,” Liesel says, and she really means it.

“I know. I built it. Of course, it’s amazing.”

That earns me the tiniest smile. For a moment, it feels like we are kids again, teasing each other, instead of foes locked in a battle to the end.

“Let’s finish the tour,” I say. I don’t take her hand this time. I don’t want to be connected to her as I realize that sharing this house with her is as personal as if I were to cut my chest open and reveal the depths of my heart.

“This floor is the staff bedrooms,” I say, walking her through the house.

The number of bedrooms is the only thing that differs from the house we imagined and this one. In our dream house, we only needed two bedrooms.