Little Liar: A Dark Taboo Romance (The Web of Silence Duet Book 2)

Mom smiles at the cashier as she hands over the credit card, thanking her as she takes her lunch and heads to the table in the corner of the small cafe.

She comes here on her work breaks. At first, she was always in her office during her hour off, but her routine changed soon after Olivia came back to me—like she knew she’d lost her daughter to her son and needed to stay away from the constant reminder of that fact. Olivia used to sit with her, listen to her controlling ways, then they’d continue with their day.

Taking a draw of my cigarette, I remain hidden across the street—hood up, cap hiding my face—while she eats her lunch and chats on the phone. It won’t be Dad—he’s in a meeting about going back to work.

My foster sister Molly, who’s like a hyperactive puppy, is always with our father—I think she misses Olivia since I’ve taken all of her attention.

She can fuck off if she thinks she’s getting her back. She’s mine, no one else’s. Olivia wants me to go out with them tomorrow, and although I want to say no and leave it at that, I’m trying to be a better person for her, so I agreed.

Plus, Molly is technically family. I need to meet her eventually, being the black sheep and estranged brother and all.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it as I lean against the wall and keep my eyes on the woman who not only raised me but who’s also still trying to ruin my life by insisting that my girlfriend marries Xander.

I can see her emails—she wants the Reznikovs to meet up after their business trip. She wants the entire family there. Mom, Dad, Molly, and Olivia. But not me. No. I’m technically no longer part of the Vize family. I’m shunned. Shamed. An embarrassment to the name.

I’m the black sheep once more.

Adryx Reznikov is the older brother, and he’s a bit of a dick from what I can see online. The brains of the family business. Xander is the face, the spoiled child, the golden child, the one handed everything on a plate while his brother needs to fight for a sprinkle of what Xander gets.

They’ll land soon. I still need to formulate a plan, a threat to Xander so he’ll stay the fuck away from my sister. I’ll try to kidnap him maybe. I still have the chains in the basement from when I had Olivia. I’ll make him suffer, but not in the same way I did her.

I won’t feed him for days. I’ll make him drink his own piss until he vomits everywhere, then I’ll force that down his throat too. Possibly, depending on how my mood is, I could pull Olivia in, and she can hurt him too for even thinking about marrying her. The fact he made her dye her hair and commented on her looks makes me fucking mad.

She’s sensitive, my little sister, and this asshole made her think otherwise.

Olivia is perfect, in every goddamn way.

I’m going to destroy his face, so all the girls I’ve seen him partying with online will be terrified of him. I’ll carve my initials into his skin, stick his cock in acid, and then I’ll feed his brother his half-melted balls and slap him across the face with Xander’s liver.

My phone buzzes again, and I sigh, glancing down to see a notification that my therapy appointment is this afternoon. Olivia makes me set reminders, multiple alarms, and even has my appointments written all over the whiteboard.

I kind of don’t want to do this therapy stuff, but I know in the long run, it’ll be worth it—it also makes Olivia happy to see me getting help, for telling her that I know I need help. I do. I’m a mess, and I need direction.

Being in prison for eight years has well and truly fucked me up. Some days, I’m okay. On the bad days, I think of how Olivia screwed me over, and then other days, I regret everything and wish I’d never been adopted by the Vize family—but I always banish that thought because then I wouldn’t have met my sister.

I took her home the other night after I calmed her down with my cock—I woke her up and rode us on my bike all the way to the farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. I stripped her so she was naked, set her into the bed, kissed her perfect fucking body until she moaned loud enough to wake the dead, ringing my ears, fucked her, then I cleaned out my pet’s tank while Olivia came back to reality and asked me to bathe with her.

She’s seemed sad the last few days, and it makes me uneasy. But she still kisses me, lets me fuck her, and sends me messages saying she misses me while she’s at work, so the paranoia is just my mind fucking with me.

I can never get enough of her. Sex is everything for us—the missed time, the missed days and nights and orgasms. We missed nearly a decade, but we have time now. The fact she wants me to take her on a date too is ridiculous. What would be the point? I get it, I really do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to start serenading her, treating her like a princess, then acting like I don’t want to fuck her into a coma every second of every day.

I’m not a romantic guy. I can’t do all this soft bullshit. I can barely make love to Olivia without it turning rough because it’s all I know—my life has been driven by anger since I was a kid. Being with Olivia is the only time my mind is kind to me.

With her, the voices fuck off. She smiles at me, and for fuck’s sake, what else could I want? There’s nothing wrong with us. We’re active. Really active. Kissing turns sexual. Cuddling gets me hard. Even seeing her blush at me makes me want to stuff my cock into her mouth until her eyes are filled with tears.

How the hell am I supposed to take her on a date and pretend none of that stuff happens?

“You could be a little more discreet,” comes a voice to my left.

My already shitty mood sours.

I glance up to see Olivia’s friend Abigail. She still has colorful hair, and her eyeliner is a little atrocious. How the fuck she’s been friends with my girl since they were young still baffles me to this day.

I ignore her.

She crosses her arms, leans against the wall beside me, and pulls out a cigarette. “I’m guessing the reason for her short replies and not answering my calls is because of you. You can’t take my friend from me.”

Looking up at her once more, I calculate how long it will take before my silence makes her uncomfortable. She’s never spoken to me before. Ever.

Annoyingly, she doesn’t fuck off. She takes a draw of her cigarette and blows a cloud above her head. “You don’t want her getting married to that jackass, and neither do I. Xander isn’t backing down. Him and his father have made that perfectly clear. Please keep this between the two of us.”

I want to question her, but I can’t. I only feel comfortable talking in front of Olivia. Other than my therapist, she’s the only person in the world who will ever hear my voice. I won’t let Abigail hear me, and she doesn’t know sign language, so all I can do is stare at her.

She huffs, steps on her finished cigarette, and pops her hip out.

Does Olivia know this? That Xander isn’t backing down? Is that why I’ve to keep it to myself—because Olivia doesn’t want me to know?

Or maybe Olivia doesn’t know yet.

Wait. How would this dipshit even know?

“If Xander gets Olivia, we’ll never see her again.”

I know that. I don’t need the reminder that the only person I’m struggling to keep her from is looming around the corner, waiting to ruin my life.

“If you plan on removing Xander from the equation, make sure you deal with his brother too. He’ll become more of a problem. Their father is the one who controls them both though. But he’ll be impossible to reach.”

I’m at a loss as to why she’s standing here conversing with me like we know each other. Or why she’s telling me shit I’m not aware of.

“I’ll never understand you and Olivia. I always knew there was something going on—Mason told me. And you couldn’t have made it more obvious you were in love with your sister, and she was just as obsessed with you. If you break her heart, I’ll kick you so hard in the balls, you’ll never walk properly again.”

And then she strides across the street, smiles at my mom as she leaves the cafe, and they both walk back to the courthouse to meet with my sister.

I’m confused and pissed off.

Did she just fucking threaten me?

I watch them walk around the corner, waiting a few moments before I follow. Keeping my cap low, and staying out of their line of sight, I tail them all the way to the courthouse.

The warmth in my chest appears when my sister walks out, grinning at her friend and ignoring our mom, and then they climb into a car and head to her friend Anna’s house.

Annoyingly, she gave birth yesterday. Two newborn babies screamed down the phone while I tried to sleep on Olivia’s chest this morning, and she acted as if our eardrums weren’t ringing and my patience wasn’t thin. I was very fucking close to throwing her phone against the wall and making sure none of her friends could ever contact her again.

She tried to show me a picture, but I didn’t even attempt to lift my head to look. Who cares? Anna is a bitch, and so is Abigail. I mean, who the fuck does she think she is to speak to me the way she just did?

I want to choke her, but not the same way I choke Olivia. The thought alone makes me shiver in disgust. I’ve never even as much as thought about having anyone except my sister beneath me—yeah, I fucked with her head a little by going on a date with Anna, but I did that out of maliciousness.

Olivia needs new friends. They’re all idiots. Or maybe she doesn’t need any? Not having to deal with them disturbing our bubble sounds fucking perfect. I’m her friend. That’s enough.

She’s my only friend too.

I get on my bike and follow the car to Anna’s, parking it up the hill—far enough away that they won’t be able to see me, but I still have the perfect view of all the windows at the front of the house.

My mom hugs Anna, hands her a gift, and then beams at the baby the husband places into Olivia’s arms. The other baby goes to Abigail.

Something strange rushes through me. I can’t quite put my finger on the feeling. I’m not jealous of any of it. I’m not staring at Olivia baby-talking and picturing her holding my kid, and I’m not planning in my head what it would be like if I was ever going to be good enough to have all of that.

It’s impossible.

But maybe it’s a bucket full of annoyance that’s in my veins. Because my sister is smiling. Grinning at a baby. She’s never smiled at me like that—or anyone. It makes my insides twist at the thought of her wanting that—a family, kids, with me. It’s not something I can give her.

Fuck.

She’s beaming ear to ear, her cheeks rosy red. She sidesteps the husband, and I lose sight of her from the window—I might scratch his car and slash his tires for ruining my view.

She reappears in front of another window and pulls her phone out of her back pocket, the baby in her other arm, as if she’s a natural at holding something so damn fragile.

She’s typing while her smile grows, and I make a mental note to check her phone while she’s asleep to see who it is. I’ve been good recently. Before, I’d hack her phone and read her messages, look at her pictures and videos, and it became obsessive, but I’m trying to do better.

I haven’t checked her phone since she came back to me. Maybe I should, just once?

The thought vanishes as my own phone dings in my pocket.

I huff a soft laugh, looking up to see her watching me. She tilts her arm to give me a better view of the newborn in her hold while she sways softly, side to side, still smiling.

I sigh as I type out a reply.

I want to ask her if she’s getting some sort of baby fever and if I should restock as many condoms as possible, but I settle by asking:

Mom takes the baby from her arms, then she’s chatting away to her friends, leaving me waiting for about five minutes before she moves away from them and chews her lip while reading my message.

I frown, looking up at the window to see Olivia waiting patiently for my reply. What kind of question is that? In what fucking world would Anna and her husband allow me to be anywhere near their newborn babies? Plus Mom is there—she’ll slam the door in my face.

I have no reason to go in.

I know the moment I hit send that I’ve made a mistake, but I can’t take it back now. Her smile drops, and so do my teeth on my bottom lip as I await the attitude. Or maybe the middle finger.

But I don’t get either—she stares at her screen for a long minute. I adjust my bike, my ass getting numb. Her smile drops further, then she’s moving away from the window and out of view once more.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

I pocket my phone and turn the key in my bike, making it vibrate beneath me. Revving, I catch the attention of Olivia’s friend—that fucking Abigail—and she scowls at me before shutting the blind.

What’s her deal?

Part of me wants to get her out of the picture, but she knows things. Her saying that Xander won’t back down, even though Olivia hasn’t once mentioned it to me, means either my girl is lying, or her friend is fucking one of the Reznikovs, maybe to get intel?

The front door opens, but only Olivia leaves. She’s hugging herself as she walks across the street and up to me. She doesn’t seem happy to see me.

I gulp and smile at her. “Hi.”

“You couldn’t give me some time with my friends? Anna just had twins.”

I frown in confusion—she just spent time with them and now I’m taking her home.

Her phone buzzes in her hand, and she glances down before stuffing it into her purse. “Abigail,” she says, seeing my silent question about who’s messaging her.

My gaze flicks to the house then back to her.

Chewing her lip, her eyes glaze over. I try to take her hand, but she pretends to rub her arms to heat them up. She shakes her head and takes my helmet when I pull it off. I still need to get her one, and I refuse to drive with her on my bike without her being protected.

I grab the helmet and drag her to my chest. “Look at me,” I demand, keeping the visor up to see her red eyes. Tell me what’s wrong.

Her silence kills me. She’s hurting, and I’m the reason why.

“I’m sorry,” I say, wetting my dry lips. “I’m trying.”

She nods. “I know. So am I.”

“Do you still love me?”

She lets out a breath. “Of course I do.”

Good. That’s good. If she didn’t love me anymore, I don’t know what I’d do. Maybe keep her tied up in our bed until she fell back in love with me.

When she slides behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, I pull off with a feeling of unease encasing me tighter than Olivia’s hold as I speed up.

I feel… not nice.

Does she still have the ridiculous idea of me taking her on a date and going back to the start, and that’s why she’s being so cold?

What if seeing her friend and her new, happy family made her realize I’m the wrong person for her and she’s thinking of ways to leave me?

So many thoughts are rushing in my head as I speed down the road faster than intended, causing Olivia to tighten her arms around me.

Maybe I should go faster.

Olivia doesn’t say a word when we reach home, or when she hands me my helmet and walks into the house. I follow behind with my brows knitted together. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but words fail me, and she won’t look at me so I can sign to her. She goes straight into the bathroom, shuts the door, and slides over the latch to lock it.

My jaw tenses as I press my forehead to the door, eyes closing as I hear her soft sobs. She’s crying. Because of me. I’m doing it again—making her unhappy. She’s going to leave me because all I do is upset her.

I can’t call her name. I can’t unlock the door and communicate with her. I can’t do anything but wait outside the door with one question on my mind.

What should I do?

Olivia is far too excited as we wait for Molly to finish school—her classes end in twenty minutes, and we’re taking her dress shopping for homecoming. I had no choice but to join them—I have to meet my little sister, be nice, and also be patient.

I’m also not to smoke a cigarette or joint in front of her, scare her, or do anything violent.

So, in turn, I do fucking nothing but stand and be a damn shadow.

I’ve been inside Olivia, in every goddamn hole, and I’ve also claimed her with my initials on her body, yet she thinks I’ve got a nice, patient bone in my body for someone who isn’t her?

Has she fucking met me?

“She’s coming now,” Olivia says, nudging me with her shoulder to get my attention. “Remember what I said.”

The girl is fragile and sensitive and I’ve to go easy on her—basically, I’ve to stay silent around her. She probably doesn’t sign, and I don’t like kids, nor do they like me, so it looks like today is going to be a quiet day.

I already asked Olivia ten times this morning why she was upset last night, but instead of giving me an answer, she kissed me and avoided it—my paranoia at this point is close to mass destruction because what the fuck?

Abigail’s words are hanging in my brain like a disease. Xander isn’t giving up. Will he force her? What if he tries to take her?

What will I do if Olivia agrees again, and I lose her?

A whole lot of death, that’s for sure.

“And don’t call me your sister, especially if you’re flirting with me or holding my hand.”

I frown at her. But I’m your brother?

“No, you’re my boyfriend.”

I’m both.

She sighs, her shoulders dropping. “You need to choose, Malachi. Am I your sister or your girlfriend?”

Without hesitation, I sign, Both.

“You’re insufferable.”

My eyes narrow, but before I can argue my ground and demand that she still call me both, a pink, sparkly presence appears in the distance. The young girl waves at us excitedly, looking over her shoulder to say goodbye to her friends before rushing to us. She hugs Olivia then looks at me.

If she even thinks about trying to hug me, I’ll sidestep and watch her fall flat on her face.

“Hi,” she says with a huge grin. “I’m Molly.”

I blink.

Olivia nudges me.

I blink again.

I flatten my lips and tip my head a touch, and it seems to be enough because the energetic teenager goes into a full blown description of her week so far—she’s so fucking dramatic, even with the way she moves her hands as she talks, her tone too enthusiastic as she explains why her friends want her to hang out at some day club for teens, and then shows Olivia a bracelet she made with one of the house workers at the Vize manor.

Drowning her out, I shove my hands into my pockets and fall behind a little as we walk through the park—it’s only a short way to the mall, although both girls complain that their feet hurt ten minutes in.

I end up carrying a pink bag on my back because apparently it’s too heavy for the girl who’s been carrying it all fucking day, and I’m not exactly going to say no to Olivia when she hands it to me.

Molly’s dark hair swings as she turns to me. “You’re way taller than I thought.”

I don’t reply.

What would I even say anyway? Thanks, kid, I got my height from my dead bio-dad? Or do I try some bonding by saying, I heard yours was a dick and left you at home for three days while your addict mother lay dead on the bathroom floor. Want to bond over trauma? I can partially relate.

Instead, I stay silent. Olivia would most likely kick my balls, and I quite like my balls.

Despite the rules thrown at me, I light a cigarette and try to ignore them both while they talk about what Olivia wore to her homecoming dance. I never attended ours. But I did stand outside, waiting for my sister to come out. I was going to ask her to dance with me in the parking lot, just the two of us, but Dad appeared and told me to get in the damn car and took me home.

He knew.

He always knew how I felt about her.

Molly slows down to walk beside me. She moves her hands to make a few signs, but they’re wrong. Olivia corrects her, and she turns back to me again. I’m happy, she signs then takes a few seconds to figure out the next movements. You’re out of prison.

And just like that, my heart rate picks up, and I want to go home.

Olivia always cried about you, she adds while Olivia isn’t looking.

Swallowing a lump threatening to strangle the shit out of me, I inhale my smoke deep and make sure I blow the poison in the opposite direction from the kid.

“Dad’s been teaching me a little. I’ll try harder.”

“You’re doing great,” Olivia says. “It took me a long time to figure it out. Dad and Malachi taught me.”

Her eyes move to me, and she smiles. I remember growing up, I’d write down the words and sign them to her. Dad was teaching her, but she always came to my room to ask to teach her some more.

I taught her how to sign my name—and hers.

It’s a shame she never got the chance to teach me how to say my name like we planned when we were eighteen and nineteen.

I taught myself how to say hers in my cell. And even then, I was terrible at it.

“Did Dad teach you?” she asks me. “To sign?”

Why is this kid giving me anxiety? My heart is racing, and I feel sick all of a sudden.

My jaw ticks, and I focus on the entrance of the mall, my teeth crushing together, not because she’s annoying me or because she won’t stop talking. No. I’m caught off guard because she didn’t say “my dad”. She said it in a way that suggests Jamieson is still my father, despite everything I’ve done. Meaning she still views me as his son and her brother.

I gulp and look away, an intense heaviness pressing into my chest. Like it’s trying to crush my soul and remind me I’m an empty shell and useless.

When I got arrested, I accepted I was alone again. My bio-parents left me, and I ruined my relationship with the Vizes because I fell in love with their daughter. Until Olivia came back to me, the only person I could talk to was myself. My inner voice is a dick and thinks he’s funny one minute and suicidal the next, so it’s good to drown that side out and replace it with Olivia and this kid who’s still talking.

We cross the street and head towards the mall—I’m counting down the hours until we can go home so I can forget this day exists.

“Can I come and stay over one night?” Molly asks me, and my right eye twitches. “Our big sis said we could watch movies and you’d show me your spider! What kind is it? Does it bite? Do spiders make noises? Has it ever bitten you?”

Fucking hell.

“Olivia,” I say, gesturing to the hyperactive teen, silently begging her to take over before I pretend to have an aneurysm and pass the fuck out. She’s on the phone, leaving me to deal with this fucking child and her incessant voice.

Molly’s eyes widen. “Oh my God. You just said her name! Can you say mine? It’s easier than Olivia’s. Moll-ee. It rolls right off the tongue! Are you even listening to me?”

I want to die.

While Olivia still talks on the phone—to Abigail I think—I push Molly from my left to my right when I realize she’s walking on the curb side. It’s an automatic thing I always do with Olivia. For some reason, I feel uncomfortable having Molly close to the busy road. One swerving car could hurt her.

I toss my cigarette and open the glass door, letting Molly and Olivia walk in first. Olivia takes my hand, and some of the tension lifts from my shoulders. “Be nice. Please. She’s trying so hard, and you won’t acknowledge her,” she whispers. “Please. She was so excited to meet you.”

I nod and huff. There’s no point in me trying to build any sort of relationship with the kid—she’ll hate me when she’s old enough to understand everything that’s gone down with the family and why I’ve been kicked out of the Vize unit. And the fact I fuck Olivia on the regular and how it’s technically wrong.

Molly’s gaze drops to our clasped hands, and she attempts to hide a smile.

Does she know I’m with with our sister?

“Oh, this is the store!” Olivia pulls us towards a shop filled with dresses and shoes, and I inwardly sigh when they both squeal in excitement.

This is going to be the worst day of my life.