Hidden Truths (Truths and Lies 1)
Because that’s what assholes do.
Talia
Nora and I have spent the day doing all things wedding related. We’ve found the most gorgeous wedding gown—one I would die to wear if it wasn’t Kostas I’m marrying. Ordered the bridesmaids’ dresses—for bridesmaids I don’t even know and won’t meet until the wedding rehearsal dinner on Friday. Apparently, Kostas’s parents both have extended family, who will all be a part of the wedding, and Nora confirmed all of their measurements. We confirmed the church we’ll be getting married in, and the beautiful garden venue for the reception. We scheduled the catering company and designed the wedding cake—an exquisite five-tier wilted magnolia petal design. It will match the color scheme we decided on—soft pink and cream. We only stopped once for a quick lunch.
In one long, exhausting day, Nora and I have planned the wedding of my dreams. If I could wave a magic wand, this is exactly what it would all look like, except for one detail. The groom. And that one detail is what ruined every moment of the day. I tried to picture walking down the decorated aisle in my wedding dress, but only imagined Kostas scowling at me. I imagined us cutting the beautiful cake and partaking in the tradition of feeding each other, but all I could envision is Kostas glaring at me.
I saw several of the receipts from today, so I know this wedding is costing the Demetriou family a small fortune—not that they can’t afford it—and it’s all a waste. An unnecessary show. The church and reception and decorations and wedding attire might all be perfect, but none of it matters because the wedding is a sham. The vows we’ll recite will be fake. The exchanging of rings will have zero meaning. And all for what? So Kostas’s mom can enjoy her eldest son getting married? So my da—Niles, can have it rubbed in his face that his daughter has been bought in exchange for his debt? It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t even live anywhere near Kostas and his dad. How is it fair that he’s now debt free and I have to spend the rest of my life married to a man who is hell-bent on making my life miserable?
“I was thinking we could go to dinner,” Nora suggests from the back of the town car. We’ve just left the bakery and are heading back home. Home. The word leaves a sour taste in my mouth. This place will never really be home. “Aris mentioned he’s just finished up a meeting and is available to join us.” Nora smiles sweetly. If the circumstances were different, and I was marrying Kostas out of love and not to fulfill an obligation, I would feel lucky to have Nora as my mother-in-law. In all of the movies I’ve seen, the mother-in-law is always a bitch, trying to create a wedding the bride hates. But not Nora.
The entire day she has been nothing but sweet to me. When I was standing on the alteration pedestal in my wedding grown and began to cry—she assumed they were happy tears—she pulled me into a hug and whispered, “I am so happy my son has found love. It takes a strong woman to love a Demetriou man. Thank you for loving my boy.”
I wanted so badly to tell her that it’s impossible to love a Demetriou man, and that it would never happen, but then I remembered that she does in fact love one. How? I have no idea. But she does. So I kept my mouth shut and nodded and told her the only honest thing I could think to say. “I’m so glad you’re going to be my mother-in-law.”
“Talia,” Nora says, bringing me back into the now. “How do you feel about dinner?”
“That sounds wonderful,” I tell her truthfully. For one, I really do love her company, and it will mean less time I’m stuck at home with Kostas taunting and torturing me. Sick, sadistic asshole. It’s like he gets off on messing with me. Not that it should surprise me. The guy also gets off on beating men with their own limbs. God knows what else turns him on.
My mind goes to earlier this morning, Kostas provoking me in the shower. I thought for sure he was going to force himself on me, and shockingly, while my brain screamed no, my body…my damn traitorous body reacted oppositely. My nipples hardened in want, and the area between my legs tightened in need. For a split second when I thought maybe Kostas was going to take me right then and there in the bathroom, I wasn’t sure whether to beg him not to, or beg him to do it. Even now, sitting here in the car, my body shivers at the mere thought of him touching me. But I imagine, just like this fake wedding, sex with Kostas will be nothing like I’ve always fantasized about when I’ve thought about my wedding night with my husband. There won’t be any love making or worshipping. He won’t tenderly kiss and love on me. He’ll be rough and mean and cruel. He’ll hurt me…just because he can.