Stolen Lies (Truths and Lies 2)

“Fuck you,” he roars. “Don’t ever talk about my mother.”

“Your mother is rolling in her grave because the man she hated most is the man you turned out to be,” Talia continues, her body vibrating with power. “You turned into him. Ezio. You’re that spineless bastard, weak and afraid.”

“I am not like that motherfucker!” he screams, his face turning purple with rage.

Aww, someone still has daddy issues.

“You always did look more like the gardener,” I muse aloud.

Talia laughs. “How does it feel to be powerless? You only had the illusion of power for a short while there. Your brother always wielded it and it drove you fucking crazy. He got the empire, he got the girl, and he got the kid.” She slashes again, this time slicing a big gash on the side of his neck. “What do you have, Aris? A mediocre cock in your pants and a burning desire to be him?” She points her knife at me. “Well, you’re not him. Not even close.”

“Go to hell,” Aris slurs, his skin quickly paling with the blood loss that’s pouring like rivers down the side of his neck.

She straddles his thighs and presses the tip of the blade against his chest, right over his heart. “You soon will.” Her body trembles, but she doesn’t make the move.

“Talia?” I ask, rising to my feet.

A sob chokes her. “I want to, but…”

Walking over to her, I stare down at my brother she’s singlehandedly ruined with her knife. I could end him right now. Hell, we could leave him and he’d bleed to death within minutes. That won’t bring her peace, though. She needs to do this.

I lean forward and wrap my arms around her. My hand grips hers on the hilt of the knife. Nuzzling her hair with my nose, I inhale her sweet and sweaty scent. I kiss her hair and murmur my words against her head.

“Ready, zoí mou?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

I use my other hand to cover the top of the hilt of the knife and drive it forward. Her hand flexes beneath mine, but she doesn’t squirm away. Together, we push the blade past his flesh and into his chest. Together, we pierce his heart. Together, we breathe raggedly as we watch the life quietly drain from the monster in our lives.

Releasing the knife, I hook my arms around her middle and pull her away from him. I walk her outside so Adrian can deal with the body. She turns in my arms, sobbing against my chest. I stroke her hair and kiss her head. The waves crash down below.

“It’s over now, moró mou. You can be happy.”

She pulls away and places her blood-splattered hands on my cheeks. Her blue eyes are watery as she regards me. “I am happy, Kostas. With you, never doubt that.”

“I love you,” I murmur. “My beautiful, brave, fiery wife.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible,” I growl, nipping at her juicy lip.

A smile tugs at her lips. “Then prove it.”

“Anything.”

“Give me a piggyback down to the beach.”

All those stairs. All. Those. Fucking Stairs.

“Aww, I’m only teasing,” she says, laughing. “You should have seen your face!”

With a growl, I scoop her into my arms.

I carry her down all those goddamn stairs. Every last one of them. And when I’ve fucked her in the warm sea and made her scream my name in pleasure, I’ll carry her back up all those motherfucking steps. Every grueling one.

I’ll carry her anywhere.

To the ends of the earth. Through heaven and hell. And into the next life.

She’s fucking mine forever.

Talia

One Year Later

“Mommy, what’s this?” Zoe asks, pointing at the exquisite fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

With me almost two weeks overdue, we decided to drive over to the Pérasma Hotel with Kostas today to hang out, swim a little, and get some sun while being waited on.

When Zoe asked if we could go for a walk, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to try to walk my overly-pregnant behind into labor. Big mistake. Because now I’ve plopped myself onto the wicker lounge chair to relax for a minute, and there’s a good possibility I may never get back up.

Not wanting to tell her what she’s pointing to is Bernini’s Rape of Proserpina, I go with a more childproof answer. “It’s a statue of a man and a woman.”

“Not just any man and woman,” a masculine voice says, catching my attention. I glance over and spot my sexy husband sauntering over. Unlike the first time I saw him in this very spot, dressed casual in khakis and a button-down shirt, today he’s sporting his power suit. I would take him either way, but truth be told, my favorite Kostas is the one without any clothes on in our bed.

Kostas picks Zoe up and she squeals in excitement. “This statue is of Pluto and Proserpina,” he tells her as if she can understand. He always talks to her like she’s an adult. It’s oddly adorable.