Filthy Liar

By Celia Crown

"You will know when I'm being unkind, darling. I've been more than patient with you."

 

Esther was a rising pianist.

 

Ridden with guilt, she stops her passion without a second look behind her as her once radiance is a veil of gray now.

 

Ales Salazar is a world-class pianist.

 

He draws her in with a perfected smile and unforeseen evil.

 

Every chilling note, every transcending pitch, and every crushing timbre emanate from devotion. He plays with the intention to torment, to warp her fear into an addiction.

 

Maybe, just maybe, Ales isn't the man Esther should love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celia Crown
• Release date: Apr 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223287650

Book preview

FILTHY LIAR

____________________

CELIA CROWN

Copyright © 2020 by Celia Crown.

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.

The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

Contents

Filthy Liar

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Afterword

More Books

Filthy Liar

By Celia Crown

You will know when I’m being unkind, darling. I’ve been more than patient with you.

Esther was a rising pianist.

Ridden with guilt, she stops her passion without a second look behind her as her once radiance is a veil of gray now.

Ales Salazar is a world-class pianist.

He draws her in with a perfected smile and unforeseen evil.

Every chilling note, every transcending pitch, and every crushing timbre emanate from devotion. He plays with the intention to torment, to warp her fear into an addiction.

Maybe, just maybe, Ales isn’t the man Esther should love.

Chapter One

___________

Esther

The number of errands I’m running is ridiculous.

A flash of lightning that happened three nights ago is still causing occasional blackouts. I don’t trust the electricity at the moment, so it’s best to pay my bills in person.

To optimize my time, I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. In hindsight, I should have.

I grunt under my breath as the blistering sun scorches my hairline. Blinking away my blurred vision and deeply inhaling helps ease my queasy stomach.

I have a couple of more errands to run, but my knees are screaming for a rest. I quickly glance around, and the busy streets blur together despite my attempts to focus.

Grinding my teeth, I press my hand against a wall and close my eyes.

Miss Scott?

I peel my reluctant eyes open and stare at the man. He stands on the bottom step with a look of concern on his face.

I haven’t seen you for a while! he chirps with a curious tone.

I vaguely remember him as a security guard, the implications quickly dawning on me.

Hello, I mutter uneasily.

Are you alright? he questions with a frown.

I smile politely and take my hand off the wall. I’m alright. I just needed to catch my breath.

Oh, he quips. Hot day, isn’t it?

That’s an understatement. The sun is in full force today, so I can easily predict that tomorrow will have sudden downpours. It’s common, and I hate it.

A wave of nausea drops to the pit of my stomach as my lips curl into a grimace. I swallow with difficulty from the lump in my throat and my swelling tongue.

Are you sure you’re alright? the man utters worriedly. You look like you’re going to faint.

I feel like I’m going to faint.

I think the heat is getting to me, I note with a halfhearted laugh.

The man shakes his head as he points back over his shoulder. The hall is open today; you should go inside for a break.

My hands tremble, and I clench my fists tightly. The nails dig into my palms, and the stinging doesn’t ease the dread burning in my heart.

The grand music hall stands tall, and the stairs taunt the throbbing in my joints.

I shake my head at his offer. I’m—

Luckily, I’m able to stop the dry heave before embarrassing myself. The glaring heat strikes the back of my head as my stomach coils. I wish my body were strong enough to decline his invitation.

Thank you, I mumble.

The man smiles and offers his hand for assistance, but I decline the courteous gesture. I force my reluctant legs to walk up the familiar stairs as memories come flooding back with each unpleasant step.

There is a sliver of fear slowing my steps when I stop at the double doors. The street noise behind me becomes a droning hum as I clutch at my last shred of confidence.

The security guard calls my name again, and my heart jumps.

I offer a weak laugh and force my legs to move through the doors. A musty odor reeks from the old walls, and the ventilated air doesn’t help.

It’s not a terrible smell, but it takes time to get used to it. This music hall is one of the oldest and most prestigious buildings in the country, a piece of history.

It’s been too long since I’ve been here. The security measures are still very rigorous.

The security guard waves goodbye as I take preoccupied steps further into the building. I was going to stay by the front entrance, but my legs have a different agenda.

They crave the familiarity and happiness this place used to offer.

Soaring timbres, powerful and antagonistic, flow above the oppressive silence.

My heartbeats spike in tandem with the dark melody, and sophistication threads the notes together as binding on my limbs. Fear sinks into my rigid muscles as my lungs burn with smothered air, and my rapt attention breaks at the first gaze onto the powerful body.

Each key hit with perfection; the deliberate crescendo thrums along the inside of my wrists and the edge of lunacy in the tunes step closer to suffocation in my lungs.

It’s raw with unbridled emotions and accentuated exhilaration—yet, the beauty of his music swallows joy.

It’s conquering, and it consumes the final scarce breath.

A shaky gasp escapes my quivering lips. Tears run down my cheeks as the dying notes fade away.

It hurts to breathe, and exhaustion overcomes me. It takes a split second for my flight instinct to kick in.

I flee without a second look at the stage. I can’t bear to have the image seared into my mind; the gorgeous stage, the obsidian piano, and the man with a vanquishing presence.

I can’t put my finger on why, but I have to leave this place before losing my mind. Something about the unnerving performance unsettled the fragile balance in my head.

It’s the most haunting piece I have ever heard.

Rubbing the stinging tears from my eyes, I press a hand against the wall for support as the soft panting continues. My legs throb painfully as my heart pounds, and I pause to collect my thoughts.

My focus was shattered the moment I heard the riotous notes.

My shoulders curl inward, fighting the heightened sense of walls closing in on me.

Thinking back, that man showed conviction in demolishing the boundaries of the eerie composition.

There is only one man capable of such perfection.

Miss Esther, a purring, velvety voice says. Are you ill?

My name rolls off his tongue like salacious honey, and my heart answers with a detestable shudder.

I’m so sick that I’m starting to hallucinate. There is no way that Ales Salazar is right in front of me with his hand holding my elbow to steady me.

It’s not a hallucination.

He is impossible to miss in a crowd, let alone in an empty hall.

At twice my size, he’s enormous and intimidating as he hovers over me with a kind smile. The iridescent green eyes silence my wild heart, and the fleeting darkness in his eyes incites a cautionary fire under my skin.

I’ve only seen him from afar when I had the chance to watch him take the audience away with his performance.

In the music world, he is a prodigy.

My cheeks flush as I stare and take too long to admire his attractiveness. I scramble to straighten my posture and smile awkwardly at him.

I’m a big fan, I blurt.

If I don’t faint from my queasiness, I will from this humiliation.

However, it is true. I’m a huge fan of his music. I am too self-conscious to admit that I started playing because of him.

It feels as if the world