Filthy Beautiful Lies(#1#2)

Sophie

Once I’m alone upstairs, I know I can’t delay the phone call I need to make any longer. I sit down on the upholstered chaise lounge chair in the master suite and dial my mom’s cell, waiting anxiously for her to pick up.

“Sophie?”

“Yeah, it’s me Mom.” With all that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, it’s more grounding than I realized just to hear her voice.

“Where are you?” she asks.

“In LA, staying with a friend. I needed some time away – a break.”

She’s quiet and I know she’s processing what I’ve told her. I don’t have any friends in Los Angeles, but she doesn’t question me.

“This friend I’m staying with…he, he owns a company and he’s graciously offered to um,” I stumble over my words, drawing a deep breath. God, I suck at lying. “He’s offered to front the money to get Becca into the trial program.”

“What have you done, Sophie?” her tone desperate and more harsh than I recall.

It’s not the reaction I’m expecting.

“The money is in your account. Use it to get Becca the care she needs.” My voice is almost clinical as I fight to hold my emotions together. Never once in my wildest imagination had I thought my mom would be suspicious of me. Of course I knew she’d wonder where the money came from, but I thought she’d be so grateful that she’d accept the story of a generous anonymous donor without argument.

She doesn’t say anything else about the money, but I hear her sniffle. “How long will you be away?”

“A while,” I confirm.

“Take care of yourself.”

“I will. Just take care of Becca. I love you guys.”

“Sophie?” I hear Drake’s voice from the hall before he steps into the room.

I toss my phone down onto the chair and stand, quickly wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands. “Yes?”This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

He’s holding a coffee cup on a saucer and carrying a miniature pitcher of cream. “You didn’t get your coffee.”

The gesture is sweet and unexpected. I accept the cup from him, the fragrant brew is exactly what I need right now. There’s a packet of sugar and a tiny stirring spoon on the saucer.

“I didn’t know how you took it.”

“With cream and sugar. This is perfect. Thank you.”

He nods. “Everything…okay?”

“Yes.” I straighten my spine. He didn’t pay for drama and I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about my problems back home. “I just called my mom. Everything’s going to be fine now.” At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

A frown line momentarily creases his forehead, before his expression returns to the relaxed, neutral one I’ve come to expect. “Marta should be here in about an hour. You’ll probably want to get yourself ready.”

“Thanks again.” I tip the coffee to my lips and watch as he exits the room.

After finishing my coffee, I decide to prepare for Marta’s arrival. I run myself a bubble bath in the extra-large soaker tub and sink into the warmth, letting the hot water strip away my earlier tension.

The basket beside the tub is stocked with everything I could need and more – luxury bath salts, shampoo, conditioner, facial scrub, razors, and body washes in several different scents. I lose myself in the process, lathering my hair and skin and enjoying the peaceful moment and the fragrant scent of herbs enveloping me.

Until I hear the bathroom door open.

I squeak and dive for cover under the bubbles as Drake’s lazy smile lights up his entire face and makes my belly flip.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen, sweetness. Relax. I’m going to grab a shower. Do I need to use another bathroom, or are you cool with this?”

Hmm, let’s see. Am I cool with the fact that I now live with a man who’s seemingly comfortable sharing a bathroom with me while we’re both naked as jaybirds? N-to-the-o. Privacy used to be something I valued. I merely nod.

He twists one of the nobs in the gigantic glass enclosed shower and water pours from the rain-like shower head mounted in the ceiling, then he tugs his shirt off over his head and steps out of the cotton pants he’s wearing. I glimpse a firm, hard ass before slamming my eyes shut. Jesus…does he spend all his free time at the gym?

The urge to glance over at his nude, muscular body is driving me crazy. I can hear the water spraying against the stone shower floor and the sound is maddening. It’s like being told there’s a priceless oil painting hanging on the wall and you’re prohibited from looking at it. Basically, it’s torture. I already know what his manhood looks like, but the desire to steal a peak at the rest of him is almost overwhelming. I resist the temptation, but just barely.

I quickly finish my bath, thankful that I’d already washed up before Drake decided to join me. I secure the huge white fluffy towel around my body and exit the bathroom as quickly as I can, leaving a puddle of water on the floor in my wake.

Rather than dressing in my clothes from yesterday, I follow Drake’s lead and put on the clothes he’s laid out for me – another large t-shirt and sweat pants this time, then venture downstairs for a refill on my coffee.

His brothers are both still in the kitchen and Pace is ransacking the fridge while Collins sits at the island, talking on his cell phone and looking perturbed.

“So, golfing today, huh?” I attempt to make small talk.

“You want to join us?” Pace asks.

I look down at my ensemble. “I don’t think I’m dressed for it.”

He chuckles. “True. But it’d give the stogy old men at Collins’ country club something to talk about other than their stock performance.”

I glance longingly over at the built in coffee machine and then down at my empty cup.

Pace’s easy smile is back. God, that thing’s becoming addictive. “C’mere, beautiful. Let me show you.”

He takes the cup from me and sets it down on the tiny platform opening and shows me which buttons to press while muttering to himself about the damn pretentious machine. The options are overwhelming for a simple cup of coffee. I’ve never been good with gadgets and this is like a having a live-in barista. The LED display confirms my order – small coffee and I tap brew on the touch pad. I’m rewarded with the satisfying sound of the coffee beginning to pour into my cup and another one of Pace’s adorable grins.

After adding a splash of milk and a bit of sugar into my coffee, I see Drake enter the kitchen. He’s dressed smartly in dark grey khaki style pants and a white collared shirt that stretches across his muscled chest. Geez, they’re like a polo team – or an advertisement for male cologne. You know, one of those where they’re in white pants with bare feet sailing a yacht, smiling at you with gleaming, straight teeth. Drake’s intense stare that I can feel deep inside me, coupled with Pace’s lopsided smile is, overwhelming.

I set my coffee down on the island with shaking hands as Drake stalks toward me.