The Lie by Natalie Wrye (most inspirational books of all time .txt) 📗

last year and a half. My gaze goes to the walls of the barely lit apartment.

The sparse expensive furniture. The framed pictures on the wall.

A photo of a couple and three kids. Another of two young men on a farm.

Black and white photos that look as recent as yesterday and others that look like they’ve seen better days, slightly wrinkled and ruffled in those nostalgic sepia tones.

A family.

I lift my chin.

“This is your family’s penthouse.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Andrew lifts one brow, the straight line of his strong aquiline nose scrunched. “It was. Once.”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah.” He hesitates, as if he wants to say more, but doesn’t.

“Where are they?”

He shrugs, strolling closer, his hands in his jean’s pockets.

For a man who was obnoxiously sure of himself, it’s the first time I’ve seen him look uncertain—child-like in his hesitance.

He stops before he reaches me, gazing out the wall of glass, his scruffed jaw working.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know… I never did get too wrapped up in the after-life and what happens to us when we die.”

“When we die.”

As in…they died.

I swallow, the sensation of invisible marbles in my mouth, keeping me from doing it well.

Dead.

How did I not know this?

How did I never think to ask?

Was it because I had seen the sadness I’m seeing now, the melancholy etched in his face—a brand of melancholy only an orphan could know?

The brand of melancholy I know so well.

I open my mouth.

But before I can say a word, the door to the massive apartment opens, an alarm alert chiming once through the nearly empty air.

I whip around.

“What— Who’s that? You expecting company?”

“Yeah.” He says, pivoting toward the doorway. “And I think you’re going to want to be here for this.”

I follow him as he stalks into the hallway, his long strides outpacing my own.

“I’m being kidnapped, aren’t I? You’re a drug dealer?”

He glances over his shoulder—once, giving me a glimpse of his strong profile. Regal and masculine.

My tongue goes dry.

“I wish I were a drug dealer. It’d be easier.”

We enter into the gigantic grand room and I notice that the lights have gone brighter, almost as if announcing the new guest.

“Kev… Jesus, what the hell took you so long? I asked you to come over an hour ago. I’d already given up on you.”

Andrew opens the door wider, welcoming one of my bartenders inside. A bear of a man with the facial hair and size to match, the bartender lumbers inside, his heavy footsteps booming against the hardwood floors, shuffling an overstuffed box in his arms.

His kind brown eyes go wide at the sight of the apartment around us.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Braw digs you’ve got ‘ere. Why so dark?” He glances around. “You guys playing Hide-and-Go-Seek?”

The husky bartender reaches for the lights, flicking them on, and it’s like the light immerses us in another world.

“Keep the heid, laddie.” He grins, laughing hard, the flannel across his large chest stretching. “It took a long time to clear your shit out of your locker. You had a million damn things. He thumbs over the box’s content. “Books…” Flick. Flick. Flick. “Mouthguard. Sparring gloves. Cologne. More condoms than one man should ever own. And…” He reaches in, pulling a small square out that almost disappears in his massive hand. “Cassette tapes? Really, lad?”

Andrew snatches it out of his hand. “Hey, don’t hate on The King.”

“Nice to know you think so highly of yourself there, Drew.”

“No, not me. The King. You know? Elvis Presley?” A pause. “Please tell me you heard of Elvis Presley.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Well, fuck. Remind me to show you some of the magic you’ve clearly been missing.”

“Will do.”

Kevin flashes me a big grin, one fist leaning in to pound mine. “Well, don’t mind me. I’ll just get out of your two’s way.” he says as he leaves.

I swallow over a lump in my throat to try to clear this all up. To try to stop him.

But I did kiss Andrew in front of a room full of people. And I’m here with him now.

My life has changed in the span of an hour, and I thought it would feel wrong.

But it doesn’t.

It feels invigorating. And different.

Exciting. It’s the most exciting night I’ve ever done…

Ever.

I step forward, feeling like a child in a room built for grown-ups. I run my hands over my arms, which are inexplicably shivering.

Feeling bolder. Braver.

Braver than I have my entire life.

Maybe it really is drugs.

Andrew Fletcher. King of the new La Costa Nostra.

And even still, the thought doesn’t scare me…which unnerves me even more. I’m too calm for a night of such chaos.

“So, any chance you want to tell me what’s going on? Because after all that’s happened, I could use a little hand holding right now.”

Andrew shifts towards me. He stalks more than walks towards me, and the air shifts, the cool air-conditioned breeze prickling goose pimples all over my skin.

I fight the urge to shiver.

“Andrew,” I breathe out, exhaustion weighing on my shoulders as I look up at him, “Seriously. I need to know your thoughts. Do you even think if we head to the police station that they’ll—”

“My name is not Andrew,” he interjects, his blue eyes burning in my direction. His eyebrows slant into a menacing straight line as he stares.

And my lips fall apart.

“Wait— What did you just say?”

“I said my name is not Andrew…” He blows a harsh breath out his nostrils. “Not technically. It’s actually Lincoln Andrew Fletcher.”

“Okayyy,” I begin, “but what does that have to do with—”

“My name is Lincoln Andrew Fletcher,” he continues. “And I’m the firstborn son and former heir to the Fletcher Financial empire. You wondered if I was a dealer. Well, in short…” His blue eyes glow under the muted glow of living room lights. “I am. I come from a long line of dealers—except we deal in money. Billions of it, actually…through every investment imaginable.” He prowls towards me. “And I know you're having financial trouble…”

I flinch. “How did you—I mean,