Her Truth

By Lisa Michele

I have him. He's mine. But how can I love a man whose family is responsible for my past abusive?

Tristan Drayton is in love with Holly, and she finally feels she can trust him with her secrets, nightmares, and heart. That is until Tristan finds out two of her most gut-wrenching secrets and one of them reveals that he is not the only Drayton that Holly has been in bed with.

Betrayal, Lust, and Murder

Holly is done being afraid to show her love and will fight to get Tristan back, but how can she put her full efforts into her relationship, when her best friend and former lover is accused of murder. Not for murdering just anyone, but a Drayton.

Her Truth is the second installment of Her World continuing the story of Holly Sparks, who has many secrets that she fears if unveiled she'll lose the man she loves. If you love drama, suspense, with a strong heroine character and plenty of steamy romance, then you'll love Her Truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Michele
• Release date: Aug 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370909889

Lisa Michele

Lisa Michele is an author of romance, drama, suspense & mystery. She enjoys a great story, just as much as the next person, as long as it leaves her connected to the character. Her writing is spontaneous and will leave your heart clenched and a grip fastened to the book. Lisa served 6 years in the United States Air Force and never regrets a day of it. During her deployments she produced several stories that helped her through stressful times and gave her a new outlook on life. She currently resides in Maryland. She will love to hear from you all whether its to say hi, tell her a story or cause you love to watch cool shows (Arrow, Empire, Vampire Diaries... the list just goes on).

Book preview

HOLLY

I hold my breath. Perhaps too long; black dots begin to blanket my vision. Every time we have these talks I choose to tell him a secret—I just pick which one. His silence cracks every part of me until I fall face first, and my body disintegrates into ashes. He straightens up and assesses me, eyes scanning over my body as if I just changed my appearance along with my name. I must look new if I’m not who I said I was.

So, he croaks. I perk up, ready to hear the verdict, Sara. He hesitates and I focus on nothing but his voice. Is this all you want to tell me?

My heart pumps in my ears, and my vision dims. For now.

"And will you promise not to move back into that house? If you want to help Casey, could you do it when he’s not fifteen feet away from you, whipping other women?"

Are we not on the same subject about my name? I squint up at him. Am I missing something?

What?

I wave my hands around me. Me! Who I am! For all you know I could be a serial killer. I just told you that Holly doesn’t exist, and you’re still talking about Casey; shouldn’t I be at the door—

Tristan's fist slams against the glass table, the creaking surface rattling my ears as he glares at me with raging green eyes. Don’t you so much as think that I’m going to kick you out again. We just had this conversation; I want you here for as long as I can have you. What about that don’t you get?

His feelings for me surpass the question of my undercover identity that any sane person would have a problem with. Instead, anger and passion burn when he thinks I’m going to leave. He wants me around no matter what. Now I just have to believe that I deserve it.

I get it, I whisper. I just thought—

Thought what? Thought that I couldn’t handle your secrets? A few misspelled words in your name creating a new one doesn’t change who you are I know you probably have reasons for having a fake name—to protect who you were from those who wanted nothing but everything from you. For you to let me in just a little makes me feel like you want me to protect who you were and who you are. And I will.

My breath is faint and the background shimmers around his head like an illusion. I have something so wonderful and rare but what I've revealed is only a tiny key to my wonderland of secrets. The biggest one is on the other side of New York, trapped in his own pain and regret that I left him in. He'll need me again to comfort him in the way we know how, but I can't. Not anymore.

Tristan wipes just beneath my eyes. I feel wetness smear across my cheek and realize I’m crying. He scoots closer and lifts my legs on top of his, moving his body under mine until I’m sitting on him. I weep into the crook of his arm as he holds me there like a child. Holding the child that wanted to cry into her mother’s arms the first time she sold me. Holding the last time I was Sara Yards and became Princess Holly.

***

I stir from my sleep, feeling the space and matter around me and trying to tether myself to something. A heavy thump quakes the floor, and I lurch forward. I’m surrounded by darkness, and the only light is coming from New York’s nightlife through the curtains. I assess that I’m in Tristan’s bed, but he is nowhere in sight. My body feels bare against the sheets, but I am still wearing my bra and panties. The thought of Tristan trying to take advantage of me in this state is laughable, and I don’t think further as to why I’m in my undergarments.

I hear coughing or choking and the sound of someone emptying their stomach. The only people in the house are Tristan and I. Throwing off the covers; I shrug on some of his clothes and out the door I fly. He didn’t seem sick when we were talking, but I come to a skidding halt when I hear a boisterous, annoying voice.

I’m sorry, Tristan. I thought I was fine to go home, Tyler says along with some more vomiting sounds.

It’s okay, man. I’m glad you called. The last thing we need is for our name to be in lights over drunk driving, I hear Tristan say. Even after their last conversation, he’s still there to watch his cousin’s back. Later I’ll have to point out that it’s not him who needs their approval and love. Instead, his family needs to prove their worth to him.

I walk on my toes and peer around the corner of the wall and down the steps towards the sitting room we were just in. Tyler’s hunched over a trashcan on the loveseat in front of the stairs right in my line of vision. Tristan’s sitting on the couch adjacent to Tyler, his back to me and body turned towards his puking cousin. He’s wearing simple jeans and a white T-shirt while Tyler looks like he went to a benefit in his custom slim burgundy Louis Vuitton three-button suit, black collared shirt with the top button undone, and black and burgundy Burberry wingtip brogues . I wish for a piece of his throw up to land on his suit.

It’s not okay. Not after the way I accused Holly of being a gold digger and then went barging into your personal life. I’m surprised you didn’t allow me to get taken off to jail.

Tristan puts a firm hand on Tyler's shoulders and says, You’re still family. No matter what.

Tyler and Tristan are now eye level with one another and give each other a little smile. Tyler’s face looks so kind and loving; this must be the cousin Tristan's described and still sees him as. Not the face of a troll, but his role model.

I’ll get you some water, Tristan says and walks to the kitchen.

My eyes follow him and once satisfied that the situation isn’t catastrophic, I sweep my eyes back across the room and prepare to go back to bed when Tyler’s devilish stare catches me. His eyes aren’t shining with delight and love anymore; they are something hungry and greedy—a look I’ve seen too often in the eyes of men. But I’m not that little girl, and I won’t cower like one either, so I meet his relentless stare with my own. He puckers his lips, blowing me a kiss just as the water stops running. I keep my eyes on Tyler until Tristan comes back. We will soon see whom Tristan chooses as the others are stripped from him once and for all.

***

Hey. A hiss in the darkness stirs my eardrums but doesn't fully wake me. Hey. The noise comes again, but I roll over, dragging the covers with me and pulling them over my head.

The covers are slowly pulled off of my head and keep unraveling until the cool air tingles up my legs. Or are those fingers playing a song and dance on my skin? My eyelids slowly unpeel, breaking away the morning crust of glue. My eyes flutter open to see an angel hovering above me. The light embraces him with soft shades of gold and white, wrapping him in a cocoon. It’s the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen until a loud banging shakes the door, breaking me from my trance.

Who is that? That can’t be Ms. Jackson; it’s not even seven, I say with a yawn, but soon quickly cover my mouth since Tristan is so close but he simply laughs at my attempt.

No, it’s Tyler. I had to get him last night from the club. He was pretty bad, and he just slept it off on the couch.

So why is he banging on the door and not passed out in a bottle somewhere? I ask, my voice carrying some bite.

Tristan blinks rapidly and sits back on his heels. Did he do something to you? If you don’t want him here, he doesn’t have to come back. I was just about to take him home, go to work, and then finally take you shopping.

My mind goes on a quick detour from Tyler to shopping. Why do we need to shop? I have all my stuff here.

For my parents’ anniversary.

Oh, crap. I forgot.

I can see.

So much has been happening in my life since moving in and Casey’s spiral down the bisexual ladder. I’m amazed I didn’t end up like Tyler and turn to the bottle to solve all my problems. His name in my private thoughts makes me want to find that one strand of memory that dares to think of him and burn it. But just as I think of the devil, there’s another bang at the door.

Tyler! Tristan shouts. Go away. I’ll be out when I come out!

He’s never expressed any other type of emotion besides love when it comes to Tyler, but now he looks like he could damn well murder him.

"The question isn’t what he’s done to me but what he’s done to you," I say.

He looks at me and blows out a breath. I know those slanted eyes and thin lips; that’s his no nonsense face.

Tristan won't drop the subject or leave until I tell him something. He can be one demanding bastard. He didn’t do anything specific towards me. Besides try to bribe me to sleep with him. I just heard you on the phone with him the other night about him showing up to my dressing room and accusing me of being a gold digger.

Tristan’s eyes widen and his lips part.

It’s okay. I’ve been called worse, I say, trying to console him.

It’s not okay. Ever since Rachael died, he just seems to ram himself more and more into my relationships. There were even a couple of good prospects… I shoot him a dirty look before he finishes that sentence.

Tristan doesn't talk about Rachael often. I only know that she's an old flame who showed him a different way to treat women—until she died. Sadness still drips from his tone when he speaks of her. She must have been strong and unique to catch Tristan's eye and throw him to me.

Way before you, Holly. But he would remind me that they weren’t Rachael. He hasn’t compared you to her yet, but when he came out of the blue about you being a gold digger, I knew I had to intervene. He’s gone too far, and I’m sick of him meddling in my personal life.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing; I don’t need to give him a pep talk about his cousin. He isn’t blinded by love. If anything, he’s just waiting for his time to strike.

I know many secrets about Tyler, and he is far from perfect. Still, he’s family, and I can’t just abandon him.

Maybe not, but you can leave them. I've been around jealous soul-suckers and know the filth when I see it. Tyler is in his pure form. He doesn't care for Tristan's well-being, only his own.

What do you mean ? Tristan tilts his head, and his green eyes widen, full of wonder with a sort of innocence. To see Tristan hurt would shatter me.

"Tristan, you shouldn’t be chasing after your father, cousin, or this company’s approval for all that matters. They should be the ones coming to you. You and I both know why your father showed up, and it wasn’t for any proposals or for his own son. Maybe it’s time to cut the strings. You are phenomenal and need to take your own steps."

The day Tristan's father showed up, groping my hands the way he should be groping his wife's body, told me more about that man than any words he could ever say. Parents should be curious about their children's new love interest, but only if the parent cared for their child and not who's in between his legs tonight. Which will be me.

He wraps his arms around me and they tighten around my body until I almost pop. I do my best to hug him back but can’t with my arms pinned. Tristan pulls back and kisses me. His lips are as soft and as gentle as rose petals—the opposite of his hands. I feel his need shaking through his fingers and down my spine but this type of wanting is for my support, and he has it.

Thank you for saying that, he says in a grave tone. For the past couple of years, I’ve been going to school for TV and film, having numerous of sessions with directors themselves. I just finished about six months ago, but I didn’t know what project I wanted to start until I found you.

Me?

He nods. Tommy told me sex sells, and he’s right, it does. I smile, remembering Tommy in the beginning and how he taught me the difference between being sexy and seductive and just overly slutty and stupid. He would always say sex sells, but in the right fashion.

You didn’t know it, but I would sneak in and watch you and Casey. It was difficult, but it helped me with ideas as well. Investing in you is like a step forward for me. Once I felt that freedom of doing something on my own without the approval of anyone, I started searching for a writer for my first television series. We had just put the finishing touches on it when I asked you to star in my new production.

I nearly cough out a lung.

But you haven’t even seen me act, I protest.

I’ve seen you—

Have sex. Unless this show is about porn stars, what am I supposed to do?

I’m both flattered and angry that he’s almost done and is just now telling me.

Holly, you’ll be fine. We may be done with the script, but I have to find a studio that will want to use it, and that may take a while. You’ll have time to go to acting lessons or do what you need to do. If you don’t want to be the lead character, that’s fine. I can give you whatever.

I gulp down whatever oxygen is floating past my lips and begin to calm down. You don’t want to use your own family production?

Tristan sits up straight and regards me with a direct stare. That instinctive feeling of wanting to hold and protect him from danger wanes away. At this point, I don’t want any affiliation with my family. I want to do this on my own and of course with you. He's been mapping out his future in secret, dreaming and hoping for the day to cut away from his entitled name.

I beam at him and curl up on his lap. So what’s it about?

It’s a sort of comedy about a sex therapist and her experiences with all of her clients. She herself is married, but it’s falling into shambles due to their lack of intimacy. Her husband thinks it’s because of him, but it’s because she’s secretly infatuated with one of her clients but can never pursue him. Tristan continues, and his words turn into a dull hum. I watch as his lips move and his eyes light up with joy. Of course there will be more to the story, but that’s the basis. We’ve been slaving over the script, and I’m impressed with it. I hope others will be as well.

I kiss him but just briefly. I’m sure they will. When are you going to start proposing?

I already have.

My eyebrows shoot up, but I am impressed by his dedication. Even with his family shit, he’s moving up the chain with his new career and me. When will you tell your family?

I haven’t figured that part out yet.

Well, I hope it’s before you start filming.

Who knows? I’m just waiting to hear back from a few of the companies.

I sit staring at this green-eyed lovely and feel my heart swell with joy and love. Love for him. I don’t banish the feeling or conceal it. I let it fill me up and keep me warm. There’s no need to flee from it anymore; it’s made its permanent home, and I don’t know if I can uproot it even if I try.

I place my fingers over his lips and look into his eyes. Tristan, I…I…

He holds my hand in his and kisses my fingers. I know.

How do you know when it’s real?

Because you’re speechless. You find yourself looking at the other with such light, warmth, and…love. You don’t know why and you don’t try to rationalize it, you just feel it and hope it spreads.

I nod and say, Then yes, you do know.

I’ve always known.

I wrap my arms around Tristan and kiss him with everything I have. We fall onto the bed, his suit becoming wrinkled with every shrug he uses to get it off. I can’t wait to become enveloped in all his glory—especially after this good news. He throws his jacket to the floor along with his shirt and tie. I curl my fingernails along his backside and press him down towards me. He grinds his erection against the thin fabric of my underwear, and my hands grow frantic with undoing his zipper. My body pushes deeper into the sheets as I feel soft silk on my back and slick heat on my front, caught between a smooth sensation and a bursting fire. I don’t get his pants down all the way; just enough to free him and seconds later fill me enough to have that fire burst into every cell. He rams into me, my body chafing against the sheets and my hands finding anything—skin, hair, fabric—to hold on to. My cries convey my satisfaction, but I exaggerate some in hopes a certain someone is close by and listening.

His initial destination of trying to go to work detoured, I am neither surprised nor disappointed when Tristan bangs me like a primal beast in heat and then is quickly lying on top of me, gulping any air he can. He’s stuck to me and smells divine—of sex and me. I slick his hair back and kiss his forehead. We can stay like this for hours, and I won’t care, but the thought is overturned when he gets up and goes to his closet. I watch him, bedazzled, as he strips off every piece of clothing, his glorious ass glowing in the morning light, and puts on a new set of clothes. This black suit is just as immaculate as the gray one on the floor.

Is that what I can look forward to every morning? he asks.

Depends. Will you have good news every morning?

His smile widens and he leans down to kiss me. I’ll make something up if I have to.

I laugh and slap his ass when he leaves for the door. I lie back down and can see the dots of my life connecting with Tristan’s. And his crème colored ceiling does not lie. I follow the patterns, and it only leads to one ending.

Hey, Holly. I’m snapped out of the trail I’m forming when Tristan comes back into the room. It seems that Tyler isn’t as ready as I thought and has passed back out on the couch. Do you mind if he stays here until he fully sleeps it off? And my ceiling trail is shattered.

Tristan, it’s your place. You can have whoever you want here.

"I know, but I want you to feel comfortable no matter what. And I hope it will become our place one day."

I blank out half of his words and just stare at his body and the way he leans into the door. I wonder if I can try for round two so he’ll just forget about work and stay with his horrible cousin and me.

I opt out of my seduction trap. No, it’s fine. I’ve got some stuff to do today anyway.

Okay, see you later, he says and shuts the door.

I plop back on the bed and still see our dots connected but halfway along the path, black smoke appears, trying to smother our light.

CHAPTER 2

HOLLY

I take a nice long shower and go downstairs to eat. It’s over seventy degrees, but I put on a pair of old disgusting jeans and a sweatshirt. I see that Tyler’s still passed out. He’s vulnerable and slightly impaired; I can either kick his ass or tell him what Tristan really thinks about him, but I do neither. I make myself some food and head upstairs into Tristan’s office. I forgot to pack my laptop when I fled from the house, so I need to do my research on his computer.

I go to sit down at the keyboard but my fingers don't move. I'm paralyzed by the past couple of hours that happened between me and Casey. His over the top abuse to Izzy, the strange man in the upstairs hallway, and his excuse for acting so irresponsible being for me. I have never asked Casey to handle anything that I couldn't do myself. My teenage years taught me to trust no one but myself. I love Casey, but not even he's worth my self-destruction. Tristan's computer finally boots up, and I click on the second icon below Tristan's name to Guest. The screen loads and I set my sights forward and focus on my future.

***

Three hours have flown by, and I’ve already found an acting studio for beginners with reasonable prices. I even found an excellent community college to possibly get a degree in the arts. It isn’t my dream yet, but it’s a start.

I hear my phone ring from down the hall and race toward it. I find it under the bed along with my other clothes from the last couple of days.

Hello? I'm breathless and slide on the floor.

Hey, Tristan’s voice comes over the line, giving me a trail of goose bumps.

I smile and lie on the floor as if I've just finished a sprint. Hey.

How’s Tyler?

Still knocked out.

I should be home in about four hours. Will you be ready?

I look down at my attire and run a hand over my face. I look a mess. I've finished a majority of my work and have put to rest the worries and stress in my head. It's time to celebrate. Yeah.

Good, and don’t wear anything too nice. I want to take you out.

I laugh at the odd request. Normally, people say the opposite. Where are we going?

Somewhere you won’t want to wear your nicest clothes. His tone becomes low and seductive.

I bite my lip as a dozen ideas filter through my mind. I can think of plenty of ways for us to get dirty. Does it involve handcuffs and chocolate?

His deep laugh carries through the phone and shoots electric shocks through me. No. But speaking of that, did you happen to grab any other stuff besides your clothes?

I cringe at the thought of my toys scattered around Casey’s room and Izzy rolled up as a victim. I never want to use that stuff again. No, I couldn’t find them and was in a rush.

That’s fine. We’ll just have to buy our own set, he whispers.

I melt into the floor and spread my legs. I trail my fingers down my stomach to the buttons of my pants. I think of how easily I can make myself come just from his voice alone. I get lost in the pleasure of my fantasy and don’t hear him when he calls out my name.

Holly.

Yeah, I moan.

What are you doing? There's light humor in his voice as if he's standing right over me and watching.

Currently? Undoing the zipper on my jeans. Just hearing you speak of us getting our own toys is enough to make me combust. What are you doing?

Fuck, he grits out. I’m about to be in a board meeting in five minutes.

Well we should make this quick then, shouldn’t we? I say and slip my pants off. I close my eyes and trail my hands lower to cup my sex, imagining him on top of me.

Maybe I’ll join you next time, but for now I just want to hear your pleasure through the phone. Put me on speaker. Use one hand to pinch your nipples and your thumb to roll over your clit.

I do as I’m told and immediately have to clench my pussy to keep from exploding too quickly.

Now take your panties off and spread your legs with two fingers digging deep into you, but don’t stop working your breast or clit. I want you to be in overdrive. His voice is extremely low, almost like he's grumbling.

I maneuver with speed and am lying with my bare ass on the floor and legs spread as wide as I can. I push my fingers in and start working. My eyes are glued shut, and I can see his green eyes bore into mine as he rocks his cock in and out of me with no mercy. I can feel his lips on my neck, collarbone, and breasts. Just a couple of more deep strokes of him and I’ll unravel around him for hours.

Come on, Holly, give it to me. Can you see me fucking you? So deep in you that I would rather suffocate than come up for air?

Yes, I moan.

Come for me. Now.

The power of his voice and the quick work of my fingers milking my pussy causes an explosive rip through me down to my toes. I shake and scream until I don’t recognize my voice anymore. This is another first for me with him. Once my body is done with the violent convulsions, I roll onto my side, ready for a proper nap.

Holly, Holly, comes Tristan’s soft voice. I almost forgot he was still on the line.

Yeah. I sound so tired and weak.

I’ve got to go to the meeting now, but when I get home, I want a repeat of that. I want to watch you envisioning me.

I squeeze my legs together again at the sudden pulse in my core. Okay.

"Good.