Filthy Beautiful Lies(#1#2)

Sophie

With a name like Marta, I was expecting a dowdy older housekeeper type with a gray bun and sensible shoes, certainly not the twenty-something blonde who shows up in a cute sundress and strappy sandals with a Chanel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Sophie?” she asks, pulling off the large sunglasses that cover her eyes.

“Yes. Marta, I assume?”

She nods and extends her hand. “You do need a wardrobe, don’t you?” Her gaze travels down my body, taking in Drake’s baggy clothes and she bites her lip. Then she pulls a pair of cut off jean shorts and a tank top from her bag and hands them to me. “Colton said you’d need something to borrow for today.”

“Colton?” I ask, accepting the clothes.

Her eyebrows pinch together. “Colton Drake? The man whose home you’re staying in.”Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

I nod. Colton Drake. Even his name is sexy. He hadn’t exactly given me a fake name after all. I smile when I remember Pace calling him Coco this morning.

“Most of his staff calls him Mr. Drake.” She shrugs. “But he’s just Colton to me.”

Interesting. I wonder what else she is to him. She’s tiny and gorgeous with her tanned skin and blond curls and I feel self-conscious in her presence.

When I return from the guest bath down the hall, I’m dressed in the shorts and tank top, feeling thankful for something to wear, even if they are a little on the tight side, and then I retrieve my purse and shoes from upstairs.

“Ready?” she asks.

I nod and follow her outside into the bright sunshine.

I climb into the little red sports car convertible beside her, tugging at the too short shorts.

She presses a button near the rearview mirror and the roof lowers and folds back neatly into the trunk. I guess I’ll need to get used to my new LA life.

“How did you say you knew Colton? He was kind of vague on the details,” she asks, pulling out of his private drive.

I repeat the story that he and I settled on and she nods along without questioning me.

“What did Drake, I mean, Colton tell you about me?” I ask.

“He said that you’d be staying awhile and that you’d need pretty much everything.”

“Oh.” I get quiet as I look out at the scenic drive we’re cruising down, remembering the phone call with my mom.

“Listen, Sophie, I know it’s not my place to pry, but if you’re in some kind of trouble, if you need anything…even a friend to listen…I’m happy to help.”

I suppose it did sound suspicious. I’d showed up out of the blue without a stitch of clothing to spare. “No, it’s nothing like that. Just a fresh start.” I smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, the offer stands. And I know Colton better than anyone. It’s not like him to just move a woman in.”

I swallow and wonder what she means. I realize Marta could give me information about him, probably more than anyone else. “How long have you worked for him?” I want to inquire about exactly what her role is, but I’m not sure if there’s a polite way to word it.

“Oh gosh, Colton and I have quite the history. Where do I start?” She laughs and I glance over at her. Her smile is gorgeous, and her loose blonde waves drift around her face in the subtle breeze, but all I’m able to concentrate on is her implied familiarity with my new owner.

Have they slept together? Are they currently sleeping together? I don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me before, but Colton has no obligation to be faithful to me. A thought that makes my stomach cramp. While I’m blowing him in private and giving him the most precious part of me, he could be off wining and dining other women. Beautiful, confident women like Marta. I knew this situation wasn’t going to be ideal, but I also never imagined I’d be living with such an eligible young bachelor like Colton Drake. Already he’s affecting me in ways I didn’t anticipate.

“Mm, let’s see. I’ve been his personal assistant for…” She purses her lips. “Six years now. I began at his office as a receptionist, but our personalities just clicked and I started working for him personally a short time after that. Having someone he can trust in his home and private life is important to him.”

I nod, but the truth is, I don’t know him at all. It’s weird to think that I know what he looks like naked, but I don’t actually know him know him. And I want to. Why is he so successful at such a young age and why in the world did he go to that auction in the first place? Questions burn through my mind like a raging inferno.

We spend the afternoon in various boutique shops, where I try on and purchase jeans, shorts, sundresses and tops, all on Colton Drake’s gold card that Marta whips out at every transaction. For once I actually have money, but after Marta reprimanded me for trying to pay and said that Colton had instructed her everything was to go on his card, I stopped fighting it.

We already have several full shopping bags of clothes and are at our last stop of the day – a lingerie boutique for some much needed bras and panties.

I’m digging through a bin of simple cotton panties, the kind that fill my drawers back home when I sense Marta’s presence beside me. She eyes the pretty pair of pale yellow boy shorts trimmed in lace and purses her lips. “Colton favors dark colors,” she says.

My stomach twists again at her implied familiarity with the man I’m currently sharing a bed with. I want to argue, to tell her it’s not like that between me and him, but instead, I drop the forgotten undergarment into the bin and continue looking. From the corner of my eye, I can see her eyeing me suspiciously. Maybe that was a test, and I’ve just answered her question about my relationship with him without saying a single word. Oh well. I do have a sexual relationship with him – or at least I am going to soon – and there’ll be no sense hiding it.

Stocking up on basic black and navy bikinis and matching bras, I find Marta browsing in the clearance area of the store. She doesn’t seem the type to need to shop in the discount section, but I secretly like that she’s thrifty. I am too.

It’s not lost on me that she’s likely my best source of information on Colton. I mean, geez, I didn’t even know his first name before she’d told me. I wondered what else I could get her to let slip.

When she sees me approach, she smiles at me again. “Ready?”

“I think so.” I hold up an armful of undergarments. “But take your time.” Today’s been all about me so far – something I’m not used to. She can browse if she wants. “That’s cute.” I nod to the red demi bra she’s holding.

“They don’t have my size.” She shoves it back onto the rack and keeps looking.

I gather my courage. “Marta?”

“Hm?” she says, holding up a sequined tank top.

“Who’s Stella?”

Her eyes zip over to mine. “He told you about Stella?”

Shit. Her accusatory tone and icy stare are too much, that, or my conscious is too big. My gaze drops down to the floor. “Not exactly. His brothers stopped by this morning, and her name might have come up.” And his bedroom smells like stale perfume and one half of his closet seems like it’s been hastily emptied out, I mentally add.

Marta continues perusing the rack of discounted bras, her brows pinched together like she’s recalling a bad memory. “He’s not been himself since Stella. She did a fucking number on him,” she mutters under her breath.

I can’t really imagine someone hurting the ever in control Colton Drake, but then again, I have no idea of his past, just like he has no idea of mine. But I intend to find out.

Several hours later, Marta drops me off at Colton’s place. We bought so much, all of my shopping bags barely fit in her tiny backseat and trunk. Marta helps me carry them inside and up the stairs. She marches with purpose toward Colton’s bedroom, like it’s a familiar route. The little sting of curiosity is back. I also note that there’s no question about where I’m staying – she didn’t even pretend to assume it was in one of the guest rooms.

She sets the bags down inside the mammoth closet and turns to face me. I offer to change out of the clothes she’s let me borrow for the day, but she waves me off.

“Thanks for everything today.”

She nods. “Of course. As a friend of Colton’s, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. And seriously, I meant what I said before – if you need anything – a friend to grab coffee with – or drinks, or just a female to talk to when he drives you insane…Call me.”

I accept her cell phone number, wondering what she means about him driving me insane.

Once Marta leaves me alone, I feel a little awkward placing my clothes on the empty side of the closet once occupied by Stella’s stuff. But maybe that’s what Colton intends bringing me here – for me to replace whatever bad memories she left behind.

If that’s what he wants, I’ll do it. Heaven knows I’m running from my own baggage too. I’m here for the money, but as the knot that had permanently taken up residence in my stomach lessens with each passing hour, I realize that’s not the only thing this new way of life can provide me.

Being here in LA, in this mansion, brings a sense of relief from the constant worry and heartache I live with every day. I miss my family, well, mostly Becca and of course I worry about her health, but it’s not relentlessly churning in my head like before.

I should feel guilty at this realization, but honestly, it’s a relief.