Lies That Sinners Tell (The Klutch Duet 1)

She nodded at our waiter, tapping the rim of her almost empty drink with a grin. I inwardly cringed at the price my third drink was going to cost me, adding in the cost of the risotto that I’d probably have to sell my firstborn for. Whatever. It was worth it.

“Well, sweetheart, let me educate you. Jay Helmick is an eligible bachelor. Not because of money, which he has a lot of. This is L.A., you can’t swing a dick without hitting a millionaire, or someone pretending to be, at least. That is not Jay’s appeal. Not even the fact that he is drop your panties perfect, even to me, and we know I prefer my men of the chocolate variety. He appeals to all flavors. So that does help his status some. It’s mainly the mystery that surrounds the man. He owns Klutch, that much people know. Some offices downtown. But the rest of his shit is in a fucking vault. I was curious, a couple of years ago, tried to ask some contacts.” She gave me a piercing look. “Nothing.”

I gaped at that. If Zoe was going to hang up her hat in the PR business, she could totally go and work for Greenstone Security, a famous security firm that even I knew about. Mostly because every guy who worked there was hotter than any single star they protected.

Anastasia Edwards had just married one of the men from there. I’d helped pick out her dress for the Oscars too. Also helped with her husband Duke’s suit—that was his name, and it was as badass as he was. Before meeting him. I didn’t think that name would suit anyone and considered it to be mildly ridiculous, but when you met him ... yeah, he was a Duke. And I’d met him. The way he looked at her made me hope that maybe my standards weren’t impossible. This town was full of actors and fakes, but there was no way you could fake the connection that the two of them had, the glint in his eyes communicating that he’d lie on a live grenade to save her without a second thought.

“My educated guess is he works in the gray areas of the law,” Zoe continued. “My slightly less educated guess has him all the way in the black. In my book, everyone claiming to earn over ten mill is a criminal. There’s just no way to earn that kind of money without breaking the law. Anyway, for guys like him, it’s the mystery that pulls women in. Sure, the money too. Rumor is, he takes care of his women in that regard. And pays a lot of fucking money to get them to keep their mouths shut when he’s done with them. The arrangements are not secret, as I said, but the details of them are. No bitch has spoken a word of them, I’m guessing because no bitch wants to be on his bad side.”

I gulped down the last of my drink, needing it after hearing all of this information. Luckily, the waitress chose this time to deposit my next one. Right now, I did not care if they tripled the price. I needed the alcohol.

“When he’s done with them?” I repeated.

“Apparently, Jay Helmick is not a man who is suited to a life of monogamy. He has his arrangements for a reason. Sex. Control, from what I hear.”

“Control?” I parroted.

Zoe raised her brow. “Oh, come on, Stella. You’re not a virgin. You get what I mean. The man is in to kink. From what I’ve deduced. Like I said, his shit is locked tight. But my educated guess is he’s dark. In all corners of his life. And the women are one hundred percent willing. Not only do they get the best sex of their lives—that’s what I’ve heard—their lives are greatly improved afterward. Jobs. Houses. Cars.”

“So it’s like some kind of fucking internship where women get fucked, but in a good way, then they’re dumped by the guy and come out the other side better off?” I deduced.

Zoe nodded, sipping her drink. “From what I hear.”

I rolled my eyes. “I call bullshit. This has got to be some kind of L.A. version of Cinderella. A dark one, but still a fairytale. Girls need something to believe in, and men need to figure out ways to be the heroes of the stories.”

“Uh uh, honey. If there’s one thing that Jay Helmick is trying not to be, it’s the hero of anyone’s story.”

For whatever reason, my best friend’s words sent chills down my spine.

I was bone tired.

Though tired seemed a weak word for it.

Due to some stress shopping and a lot of nights out with Zoe and my girl pack—consisting of perpetual socialite and party girl, Wren, and human rights lawyer, Yasmin. She was an odd addition on paper since her job was serious, important and stressful, but she knew how to let loose. Yasmin had gone to college with Wren and kept in touch because she needed a connection to the lighter, more fun side of life that Wren had introduced her to. We were a tight knit group, and I was very thankful I’d stumbled upon them when I moved to L.A. eight years ago.