Secrets and Lies Read online

  Secrets and Lies

  by

  Annie Jocoby

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Books by Annie Jocoby

  Extra Extra

  Books by Annie Jocoby

  Beautiful Illusions

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  Deeper Illusions

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  End of Illusions

  goo.gl/xriRbc

  Broken

  goo.gl/NjHKd5

  Saving Scotty

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  Ever After

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  Fearless

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  Please note that Fearless and Secrets and Lies is related to these above books, as the main character, Dalilah, is the daughter of Iris and Ryan, who are the hero and the heroine of the Illusions books.

  Copyright © 2014 Annie Jocoby

  Published on Smashwords by Annie Jocoby

  All rights reserved

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Dalilah

  Today would be the worst day of my life. Bar fucking none. I would have to break the heart of the kindest boy that I have ever known, and the one person in this world who has been able to bring out my absolute best. All because of my fucking stupidity. I had the best of intentions, of course. I mean, I would like to think that I wouldn’t have done what I did without having a good cause behind it. But no matter. The outcome was more tragic than I ever could have imagined. And the outcome was really all that mattered.

  Already, Luke had called me and texted me excitedly about my coming over. I had begged off posing for him in the morning, texting him that I had a migraine headache and didn’t want to be disturbed.

  He texted me back: “Let me bring over a cold compress for your head. My mom used to get them, I know just what to do.”

  My heart was in my throat, and tears were streaming down my face as I texted: “Thanks, but I need to be alone right now. In a dark room.” And that was all. I didn’t want to lead him on, so I didn’t put my usual “xoxoxoxo” at the end of my text.

  He texted back a frowny face and “45683968,” which was our secret code for “I love you.” The numbers corresponded with the letters I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U on our phone pads.

  I shook my head, willing myself not to text him “45683968” right back. Willing myself not to tell Nottingham to go to hell, and not to go over to Luke and just let him hold me in his arms. That was what I was absolutely craving at this time.

  No, Dalilah, you can’t do that. You can’t ruin him like that. If I had a moment of weakness, then that would be it. Luke would have his show pulled and he would be absolutely finished. That wouldn’t be fair to him. I would be the instrument of his ruin. I couldn’t look myself in the mirror if that ever happened. My life would be over, because I would have to live with the shame of knowing exactly what I caused with my manipulative ways.

  Was this the lesser of two horrible evils? This was my Sophie’s Choice, a choice between two unbearable options. One option was to break the heart of the man that I was indelibly in love with, a man that I felt that I would love until I died. There was something so powerful, so raw, about my feelings for him. We had only known one another a relatively short period of time, but he had already claimed me in a way that I never thought that I could be. My heart, my body, my soul – all belonged to him. As crazy as that sounded.

  He made me finally believe. In soul mates. In the possibilities of true love. In the possibilities that there was something larger than oneself, and that sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the person that you should be destined to be with. And these sacrifices sometimes meant that you would have to live all your days apart from that person.

  Which brought me to my other option. To break the heart of the man whom I was indelibly in love with. Which would happen if I didn’t do as Nottingham wished. Because Luke would see his lifelong dream of becoming an artist of note slip through his fingers, and it would be doubtful that he would be able to recover from that. We would be together, but at what cost? At a cost to his career, his livelihood, his dream. How selfish would I be to let that happen?

  This was definitely the only option. Break up with Luke, and do it in such a manner that he would be able to get over me quickly. Make him think that I had played him all along, and that I never actually cared about him at all. I had to do it. Any other way would mean that Luke would pine away for me instead of moving on with his life, which is what I wanted him to do. Needed him to do. Yes, I would be absolutely devastated and miserable without him. But I made my bed. I would have to live with the consequences of what I did, while freeing Luke to love again.

  I briefly thought about telling Luke everything, so that he wouldn’t be too terribly hurt. So that he could see that what I was doing was a necessary thing so that he could achieve his dreams. But, no. I knew that Luke would do one thing if I told him the truth – he would tell Nottingham to go to hell. I knew that boy well enough that I could see exactly what would happen if he knew the truth.

  And I couldn’t ever let that happen.

  A new text was coming in. Luke was sending me a video of cute little French Bulldog, my absolute favorite breed of dog, yapping, with the translation “I hear you are one sick puppy. Doggone it, get well soon.”

  I shook my head, wanting to scream out into the heavens. This was what I was going to be giving up. This goofy sense of humor that showed that Luke really got me. He knew just what to say and do to make me feel instantly better.

  But there was no feeling better in this case. There couldn’t be. Luke could never find the words and right video to make me feel better about what I had to do.

  Nottingham called me. I picked up, dreading to talk to him. But I had to. I had to keep him perfectly happy. If I didn’t, he would sabotage Luke’s career. He had the absolute power to do so. Even after Luke had his show, Nottingham had the power to sabotage him. He also had the power to make Luke into the superstar that he was destined to be. He had all the best connections to make that happen for Luke.

  After I had agreed to marry Nottingham, he showed me his plan for Luke, and I was astounded. The Matthew Jane was first, of course, and that would be the springboard for Luke to really start making a name for himself. Nottingham also wanted to show Luke at the Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin in Paris, for a spring showing. The Emmanuel was considered one of the hottest contemporary galleries in that city. The Dominik Mares in Prague would be next fall. Another world renowned contemporary art gallery. Nottingham wasn’t personally involved with either of these galleries, yet he had the connections to get Luke a showing in each of them.

  I knew what Nottingham was doing. He was simply securing his investment, the investment being me. He knew that he had to sweeten the pot, to make sure that I didn’t run for the exits when Luke’s Matthew Jane showing was finished. And sweeten it, he did. Three major showings at three huge contemporary galleries, all in the span of a year? There was no way that Luke wouldn’t end up on the A list after that.

  “And Dalilah,” he said to me, “don’t think that you can leave me after Luke’s Matthew Jane showing. I know you, and I know how devious you are. Trust me, I still have the power to dest
roy that boy at any point in his career. Even when he makes the A list. And I do say ‘when,’ not ‘if.’”

  I shrugged. I knew what he was saying was the truth. I was trapped. Sentenced to a loveless marriage that was actually much worse than merely being considered “loveless.” It would be a destructive arrangement with us. Nottingham had the capacity for mental and physical abuse. I knew that.

  I knew that, yet I had no choice in the matter. And it really didn’t help when I repeated my mantra to myself, over and over again – that I was doing this for Luke. For him. For the man for whom I would walk through fire. Luke would have a wonderful life, filled with accolades and adoration. And, hopefully, he would find a woman to love and give him a family. I truly, truly hoped that Luke could move on without me and that he could be absolutely happy for the rest of his life. He so deserved that. If anybody in this world deserved it, it was him.

  “Dalilah,” Nottingham’s stern voice addressed me through the phone. “Have you told him?”

  “Not yet, Blake,” I said.

  “Tell him tonight. Tonight, Dalilah. Tonight, or our arrangement is off.” At that, he simply hung up the phone.

  That was how Nottingham rolled. He dispensed with pleasantries, like “hello,” “goodbye,” “please,” and “thank you.” Those words were the ones that the little people used, the ones who actually had a decent bone in their body.

  Nottingham was the type of guy that, when somebody kindly opened the door for him, he would just buzz on through without even giving that person a second glance. He was the type of guy who would harangue a waitress for accidentally shorting him a dollar. He would call her stupid, right in front of me, and a cheat. He had more than one waitress in tears because of his behavior.

  And I had to sit there and take it like a little wifey. At least, that would be what I would have to do from now on. I couldn’t possibly get on Nottingham’s bad side now. Not when he held Luke’s future in his hands.

  I looked forward to the day when, perhaps, Luke was enough of a superstar that he would no longer need Nottingham’s largesse. Not that I would ever get back with Luke in that event. That would be too dangerous for him. I would always be paranoid that Nottingham just might have the power pay a top critic to do to Luke what Henry Jacobs did to me – destroy his confidence to the point where he wouldn’t be able to create anything. But, perhaps, I could at least get away from Nottingham one day.

  That was my only dream.

  Luke was texting me again. “Spaghetti and meatballs tonight and some pool down at the hall?”

  I took a deep breath. This was, by far, going to be the very hardest thing that I had ever done in my life. I could think of nothing harder than breaking Luke’s heart. I felt my tears rushing down my cheeks. It was starting to feel as if the tears never stopped, but that they were just incessant ever since Nottingham said those fateful words to me in his car – “Luke Roberts. I know about the two of you.” Those words echoed in my ears, night and day, day and night.

  I texted back.

  “We need to talk.”

  Chapter 2

  Luke

  I was bouncing off the walls, and had been ever since my dream girl told me that she would be my wife. I had to pinch myself constantly ever since we got engaged right there on the ice skating rink.

  I felt a little show-offy, really, as I did my skating moves while she stood there on the ice, trying her hardest not to fall. She was more beautiful to me in that moment than she ever had been, because she finally showed me that she wasn’t perfect after all. Yeah, she could probably smoke Fast Eddie Felson at the pool hall if she really tried, and she could win thousands of dollars at the blackjack table without blinking an eye. She had more artistic talent and intelligence in her little finger than 99.9999999% of the population could ever dream of having. And she was astoundingly gorgeous, flawless really.

  Not to mention that she was, for whatever reason, hopelessly in love with me. As I was with her. So, yeah, she had good taste on top of everything else.

  But, as she stood there on the ice, looking around nervously and looking like she was about to stumble at just any moment, I knew, perhaps for the first time, that she was imperfect. And I also knew, right at that moment, that I was hopelessly, annoyingly, and madly in love with her. As in, there would be no coming back if something ever happened between us, and I lost her. I had passed the point of no return in my feelings for her, which was why I knew, right in that instance, that I had to propose to her.

  I really lucked out with the ring, too. A buddy of mine actually owed me a shit ton of money because he was short in one of our weekly poker games. I was a card shark myself when I wanted to be, and I pretty much cleaned up. Liam, the guy who owed me the money, told me that he would hook me up with some really nice jewelry if I ever needed it for a steep discount. Something about a cousin of his owning a jewelry store, so he could get it at cost. At the time, I wasn’t having it. I just wanted the $1,000 that he owed me. But, there was no getting blood out of a turnip, and he pretty much got thrown out of our games after that incident.

  Well, what do you know? I actually did need his services after all. So, he hooked me up with this amazing ring and sold it to me at cost. And, he was back in our weekly poker games after that. He made good on his part of the bargain, as far as I was concerned. Of course, I did have to pawn my guitar to buy the ring, even though it was so heavily discounted. There was no getting around that. I missed my guitar something fierce, but I knew that I would buy another one soon with all the money that would be rolling in from the Matthew Jane showing. Nottingham informed me that he was going to be pricing my paintings starting at $20,000, which absolutely floored me. Once the gallery took its cut, I would be taking home around $10,000 for every painting that sold, minimum. And some of the paintings were priced at $30,000. I dreamed that I would sell out, which would mean that I would have a tidy sum of money, around $100,000, when everything was said and done.

  I could move to the city, hopefully get a nice apartment for myself and Dalilah, and watch the proceeds roll in from subsequent showings that would inevitably come my way after this one was finished. In no time, I would be able to really give Dalilah everything that she ever deserved. That was all that I wanted, too. To make her happy.

  Would there be sacrifices? Of course. When I moved to the city and made Dalilah the center of my universe, I probably wouldn’t be seeing the guys as much. The weekly poker games would be a thing of the past. That would make me a little sad, because those games were an indispensable part of my life. Even when Dalilah was hanging out here all the time, I had to leave her once a week to go to the games. She was pretty cool about it, too, because, well, she was Dalilah. She was cool about everything.

  But the poker games were a small sacrifice, really, for getting everything that I had ever hoped for. A woman to love, who loved me back. And, yeah, the art career taking off was a good thing, too, I had to admit. But being with her was worth more to me than 100 Matthew Jane showings. It really was.

  That something seemed a little bit off with her texts didn’t even faze me. I was that confident of our future together. She wasn’t feeling good, and she seemed to have a migraine headache, which, I admit, was unusual for her. She didn’t usually get migraines. She also didn’t text back 45683968, which was our code for “I love you.” Nor did she put little xoxoxoxo at the end. All that was strange, because Dalilah tended to be effusive that way.

  But I shrugged my shoulders. She wasn’t feeling well, so I had to give her space. As anxious as I was to see her, because I was always anxious to see her, I wasn’t going to push her if all that she needed was to go to a dark room and lay down. I had seen that scenario 1,000 times with my mom, who suffered from chronic migraines, so I knew the drill.

  Oh, but I was so hyperactive! I didn’t know what to do with myself. I wanted so badly to get going. Call the caterers, reserve the hall, find out if I could get a credit card that I could pay off once my s
how went through, etc., etc., etc. If I thought that Dalilah could be happy just going to City Hall, I would have married her that day. That hour. But I wasn’t going to ask that of her. She deserved to have a special day, as all women always wanted when they got married. I remember well when my sister got married. She was a regular Bridezilla, but I also knew how much it meant to her to take her vows in front of everybody that she loved.

  So, no, I was going to do the proper thing and make sure that Dalilah and I had a real wedding. Of course, the tradition was that the bride’s family would pay for the shindig, and god knew, they had the money. But, oops, I got hasty and never even asked her father for her hand, so I was embarrassed and figured that maybe I could try to pay for it all myself.

  But I knew that really wasn’t going to happen. Her dad would probably throw the thing at some Hampton’s mansion. Which actually wouldn’t be that bad, because taking our vows on the beach wouldn’t exactly be a form of punishment.

  I chuckled as I realized how much my mind was racing. I had to focus. But I couldn’t paint at that moment. Usually, my art came when I was calm and could concentrate. When I was wired, songwriting usually was the better way to spend my time. But, I couldn’t very well do that until I got another guitar.

  So, finally, I just decided to text Dalilah and hope that she would be recovered enough in the evening to maybe want to do some dinner over here and go play some pool. I was truly astounded how good that girl was at pool. I wasn’t the only one. She usually attracted a crowd to watch her play, even more of a crowd than usual.

  I mean, Dalilah attracted attention wherever she went. She was gorgeous and charismatic. She had the je ne sais quoi that attracted people like the Millennium Falcon to the Death Star. Well, that was a bad analogy, because the Falcon really couldn’t help being pulled into the Death Star, seeing as it was caught in a tractor beam. So, yeah, Dalilah always attracted attention, but give her a cue stick and put her around a table, and suddenly there were throngs just watching her, mesmerized. I guess nobody had ever seen a woman run a table like that.