What Is A Man But A Miserable Pile Of Secrets Novels & Stories

Chapter 4: Secrets & Lies AURORA We returned to the city that afternoon. Lucien didn’t waste any time. The moment we stepped into his top-floor office, three rough-looking men were waiting. They stood respectfully as we entered. “Boss,” the one with the scar said. Lucien’s hand stayed on my lower back. “This is my wife, Aurora. Aurora, these are Marco, Viktor, and Salvatore.” Marco grinned. “So you’re the one who finally got a ring on him. Ballsy.”

I murmured, my face buried in her hair. "Hmm?" she said softly. "Frank..." I started, struggling to form the words. "He is not entirely wrong." I felt her tense in my arms. She lifted her head to look at me. Her brow was furrowed with confusion and concern. "What do you mean?" I tried to focus on her face, but it was blurry. The room was starting to spin slowly. The guilt and the fear and the weight of my secret mixed with the alcohol was too much. "About secrets," I managed to say. "Every man has them."

Chad cleared his throat. “They can ask all the questions that they want, it doesn’t mean I have to answer them.” Mya looked at Chad. Everyone had a lie or secret. It was naïve to think otherwise. In the case of Amy, she had one skeleton in her closet. To say that Mya was after revenge wouldn’t be wrong. Everyone needed to be taught a lesson. Secrets broke families and friendships. It made no sense to have them. If everyone could be honest the world would be a better place.

My heart was racing in its cage, I was on a death list, over nothing. I had just learnt a rich man’s secret. "Come on, we need to get out of..." he couldn't finish talking. He was interrupted by the sudden trembling of his hands. "What's wrong?!" I panicked, listening to his breathing quicken.

Deagan ran a hand through his hair in frustration, without realising it his eyes drifted to the manila folder that sat collecting dust on the right-hand corner of his desk. He hadn’t touched it since he placed it there two weeks ago, but he was hyper-aware of it even when he wasn’t in his office, its presence loomed at the back of his mind like a bad memory and in many ways, it was one.

“How could you even say that? I swear to you, I have no idea who the man is, I don't know who you're talking about.” “You expect me to believe that?” He studied me, his jaw tight. “After all your secrets?” “Oh, you're one to talk.” I snapped, the fire coming from the pit of my belly. “You act like you're so innocent and honest, but you have skeletons of your own, just like everyone else.” “I don't do secrets, princess.” Something about the way he pronounced secrets didn't exactly sit well with me. “What you see is what you get.” “Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow in response. “So you wouldn't mind telling me what happened to your last bride then? Or is that a secret you've decided to keep alo

“If I believed that I’d tell you what I really thought of you. So I’ll just let you know I’m watching you…and I know exactly what Raze smells like you fucking whore.” I blushed the deepest crimson, praying nobody else overheard. Then I panicked about the panties I had left behind. Brave, daredevil Mer had done that. Terrified, fairly wimpish Mireille regretted it. Bunkers are impossible to keep secrets in. I know that from a lifetime of being in a plain, stale, safe one. In this potential melting pot of suspicion and paranoia, I could easily be the next one hurt.

You said once we squeezed him dry, we'd move into the city and buy a villa! Right in front of the entire village, they tore into each other, exposing every filthy secret and rotten motive. It was a grotesque spectacle, laying bare the filthiest, most despicable aspects of human nature.

They could’ve used that data to create copies. I climb out of the pit, my hands shaking, the drives heavy in my coat. The men look at me expectantly. “What’s in there?” one asks. “Nothing you want to see.” “Sir, this….” I cut him off. “Bury it again. Seal it. Forget tonight happened.” He nods. Money has a way of convincing silence. I watch as they shovel dirt back over the coffin full of secrets, erasing the wound we made but I can’t unsee it.

Was that forgotten? And was secrets like our English secrets? Or was that too on-the-nose? So “Where she was trapped in her secrets, forever forgotten.” The Where being the small room she followed the guy to? So, his secrets perhaps? A man with secrets, she figured, the final pages torn out, of course. The end, once again, missing. And not a dashing soldier in sight. Used books were annoying. “Are you finding everything okay?” “Jesus-fucking-Christ.” She jumped, fingers to her throat, her heart thumping.