Truths and Lies Duet

“Good morning, wife,” Kostas says, his voice almost sounding playful. He’s lying on his side, shirtless, with his hand holding up his head. He looks so normal like this. Like a husband. The thought makes me smile, which has Kostas eyeing me warily.

“We’re married,” I blurt out, the reality of yesterday hitting me again. I married Kostas. I am a Demetriou.

“I was there.” He chuckles in amusement and holds up his hand, showing me his wedding band. The one he had engraved to match mine. He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is so sweet. So unlike Kostas.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I’m reminded of where that tongue was yesterday. Licking my nipples. My neck. Between my thighs. When my thighs clench together, remembering how good it felt, I feel the dull ache between my legs. The ache that wasn’t caused by Kostas’s mouth, but by his brother.

A cold sense of dread chases away the surprising warmth I’d been feeling. My heart rate speeds up. When my eyes meet Kostas, he’s assessing me closely. I feel too vulnerable under his careful scrutiny. Like if he looks too hard, he’ll see the pain that’s bubbling beneath the surface. His lips are turned down in a frown. He knows my thoughts have taken a wrong turn. I need to tell him. He needs to know what his brother did to me.

“Kostas,” I begin, as he sits up, throwing the blanket off his body, and then stands. For a second, I’m distracted by his hard body. He’s in nothing but his boxer briefs, his full body on display. His intricate tattoos. His rock-hard abs. The trail of hair leading downward…

“As much as I’m enjoying the way you’re looking at me right now,” Kostas says, ending my moment of ogling, “you need to save your eye-fucking for later. I need to get going.” He shoots me a knowing smirk and then starts for the bathroom. I cringe at the word eye-fucking. The same word he flung at me at the wedding rehearsal.

“Kostas,” I yell, flinching when I realize my voice came out louder than I planned. “I need…”

Without looking at me, he says, “Whatever you need will have to wait. I need to get to the hospital to see my dad and plan my mother’s funeral.”

“Wait!” I shuffle out of the bed and stumble toward him. He turns around in the doorway, his eyes meeting mine. Burning fiercely. He’s back to himself. The sweet man from yesterday is gone. The monster is back. He stares at me for a long beat, his eyes narrowing, and his nostrils flaring.

“I need to talk to you,” I croak out. I need to tell you that your brother raped me…please don’t cut off my feet and beat me with them.

“We can talk tonight,” he says, his tone final. “Be ready at seven for dinner. We’ll talk then.”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

My eyes flutter open when I hear the sound of someone knocking on the front door.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The knocking turns into banging. I rush out of bed, worried Kostas might’ve forgotten his key. But when I swing the door open and see it’s Aris standing on the other side, I remember the door has a damn code, so Kostas can’t be locked out.

Shit.

Panic swells up inside me like a tidal wave. Fast. Unexpected. Terrifying.

My heart hammers in my chest as I’m frozen in terror.

“Hmm…in my brother’s shirt. Looks like you two have gotten cozy,” Aris accuses with a wicked smirk that sends chills up my spine. He grips the bottom of the shirt, tugging on it slightly, and I slap his hand away. I didn’t even realize I was wearing Kostas’s shirt. He must’ve put it on me last night after I fell asleep. The last thing I remember wearing is my swimsuit. Before he removed it…

I lift my chin, facing off with the man who raped me, praying I don’t burst into tears. I need him to know I’m not afraid of him. The slight wobble in my bottom lip suggests otherwise.

“I figured you would want this back,” Aris says. He extends his hand, holding my phone out for me to take, but when I reach out to grab it, he brings it back in. “We need to talk.” He steps forward, and I take one back, bumping into the door.

“We can talk out here.” I push his chest with enough strength, he’s forced to take a step back. There’s no way I’m letting him anywhere in my home.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

“Can you blame me?” I glare at him. “The last time we were alone, you—”

Aris cuts me off. “Had sex with you?”