Page 5 of Lust & Lies

NOELLE

THE TIRES CRUNCHED over gravel as we turned onto a long driveway. Tall trees lined both sides, their branches providing shade as they arched over the driveway. At the end of the drive, a two-story house made of white brick, black trim, and tall windows came into view.

It was gorgeous, but it looked more like it had been designed to impress, rather than be lived in. The lawn was manicured to perfection. Pretty rose bushes framed the walkway, each of them looking exactly alike.

Two black rocking chairs were on the porch. I stared at them, trying to picture myself and Aiden sitting on them, chatting happily as we rocked back and forth. Though I could see it in my head, it didn’t feel right.

It didn’t feel like something the two of us would do together. The car came to a stop in front of the country house. As I unbuckled my seat belt, Aiden stepped out, walked around the car, and opened my door. He didn’t say anything, just held out his hand.

I stared at it for a second. There was no point in resisting. I placed my hand in his, ignoring the shiver that drifted over me at the contact. He helped me out and closed the door behind me as I stared up at the house. I tensed when I felt Aiden’s hand on the small of my back.

“I’ll take you inside, then head back out to get the bags,” he told me.

I nodded and let him lead me into our country home. The second we stepped inside, I noticed the smell in the air. It was light and floral, an air freshener, maybe. Underneath it was something a bit stronger.

Paint or maybe cleaning products.

“What’s that smell?” I asked.

Aiden inhaled deeply before glancing at me. “Oh, that smell. I had the housekeeper come yesterday to make sure everything was clean and ready.”

“I thought the house was new? It shouldn’t be dirty. Right?”

“It is. But we haven’t been here in a long time. I needed the place dusted before you arrived.”

That made sense. My gaze drifted around the space. Marble floors stretched out in front of me. High ceilings made everything feel taller, more elegant. Beautiful paintings lined the walls of the foyer.

“Welcome home, baby,” Aiden said, standing beside me.

Not knowing how to respond, I only nodded.

“I’ll show you around.”

He took my hand again and started walking. We moved through the foyer, the soft thud of our footsteps on the marble the only sound between us. The foyer led us to a spacious living room with the same high ceilings.

Cream-colored couches sat arranged around a glass coffee table that looked like it belonged in a showroom. Cute end tables flanked each couch, topped with slender lamps and stacks of hardback books that I was sure no one had ever read. They were mere decorations.

The dark, heavier curtains were pulled back, allowing light to filter in through sheer curtains.

Brass accents trimmed the room in quiet luxury.

Corners of shelves, lamp bases, and the framing around the oversized mirror above the fireplace all gleamed in the soft light pouring through tall windows.

My eyes dropped to a pillow in the center of one of the couches. AP LOVES NP was embroidered on the pillow. Aiden Park loves Noelle Park. Had that always been there, or had he had it made for this very moment?

I hated the way I was questioning everything. But what choice did I have? All of this was so... overwhelming. Sliding my hand out of his, I took a slow step back, glancing around the room. Not a single object was out of place.

The perfection was unsettling. But nothing whispered comfort either. I was scared to touch anything, afraid I’d ruin the ambiance of this space. Aiden turned toward me, the sunlight catching his profile as he spoke.

“How do you like it?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted.

Aiden smiled. “Of course it is, because you designed it.”

My chest tightened. “I don’t remember that.”

His smile didn’t falter. “I know. But you will.”

Would I? Maybe I had designed it. Maybe I had walked through this very room a hundred times before, obsessing over every little detail. Unfortunately, this room didn’t stir any memories within me.

Much like the man standing before me, this place didn’t feel like it belonged to me. Even so, I plastered a smile on my face for his comfort. I stepped away from him, moving over to the fireplace. My fingers skimmed the smooth edge of the mantel.

“This is a nice fireplace,” I mumbled, needing to fill the silence.

“Nice?” he echoed, stepping closer. “You used to say this was the best feature in the room.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah. But I shouldn’t tell you that.”

“No. I like it when you tell me stuff about my past,” I said, still facing the fireplace. “I want to know more.”

He hesitated. “But the doctor...”

I spun around to face him. “I know what the doctor said. And yes, we need to follow his orders. But I still like to know stuff. I like hearing about my past. So, feel free to slip up and reveal things about me whenever you like. Hell, tell me everything if you want. I want to know.”

Aiden studied me for a few seconds, and then his mouth curved into a smile that made my heart skip a couple of beats.

“What?” I asked, wary. “Why are you smiling?”

And why did I suddenly feel self-conscious?

“Um...” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think that’s the most words you’ve said to me at one time since you woke up.”

“Is it?” I asked, frowning.

“Yeah. You sounded like your old self a little.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah, you did. I’ve been wondering when you’d start talking more. I can’t know what you need if you don’t tell me. And I can’t work based only on what you used to like because some of what you used to like may not be what you like right now.”

He paused as if he expected me to say something. But the things I wanted to say wouldn’t be something he’d want to hear. Therefore, I remained silent.

“Though I plan to follow the doctor’s orders, I want you to tell me when you’re feeling frustrated or uncomfortable. I’m your husband. You can tell me anything.”

“Anything?” I said, cocking my head to the side.

“Yeah, anything.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Is there something you want to say?”

Should I say it? I shouldn’t. I didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were.

“I know that look,” he told me. “You do have something you want to say. Say it? Get it off your chest.”

I stared down at the ground.

“I dare you,” he muttered.

My gaze snapped to his to find him smiling at me.

“Did you just dare me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“I dare you to tell me what you’re really thinking right now.”

Why did having him dare me infuriate me so much? I saw the challenge in his eyes. He didn’t think I’d do it. He didn’t think I’d say what was on my mind.

“Okay,” I said.

If he wanted me to tell him, I’d tell him, and I wouldn’t hold back.

“For starters, this place doesn’t feel like a home,” I stated.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“No. It’s ugly.”

“What?” his eyes widened. “Are we looking at the same home?”

“I mean, it’s gorgeous. It’s perfect. And that makes it ugly. It’s too showy. I know you say I designed it, but that must make me one of those rich socialites who like showing off their wealth because that’s what this room screams. If you ask me, it’s a waste of money.”

“Anything else?”

That question only irritated me further.

“Annnddd,” I said, moving closer to him. “Not only does this home feel too showy, so do you.”

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“You just don’t seem like the type of man I’d vow to spend my life with.”

His smile faded. “Is that so?” he asked, tone no longer tinged with humor. “Why not?”

“You’re sort of like this house,” I told him, moving closer.

He took a step forward. “Explain, wife.”

“Alleged wife,” I corrected, feeling like I was going too far but no longer caring. I mean, he’d asked for it, after all. “I don’t remember marrying you.”

“Oh, you will, wife. Now, explain why you don’t think I’m the type of man you’d want to spend your life with,” he practically growled.

Standing toe to toe with him now, I stared up at him and said, “You’re much too perfect, too polished, too polite.”

“Am I?” he drawled, glaring down at me.

“So perfect that it feels fake, practiced.”

“Basically, you’re saying I’m fake because I’m a gentleman?”

“You treat me like I’m made of glass. You’re careful of what you say and what you do around me.

Sure, you’re obeying the doctor’s orders, but I feel his orders are a bit much, and I think you’re taking them to the extreme.

How am I ever supposed to remember anything if you treat me like a fragile flower that will blow away in the gentlest breeze?

I’m not weak. I’m not easily broken. You said it yourself, I’m a survivor. So, stop treating me like I’m fragile.”

“How do you want me to treat you?” he asked.

What kind of question was that? If he were my husband, he would treat me the way he’d always treated me.

“How did you treat me in the past, husband?” I sneered, anger and frustration spilling into my words.

I gasped when he gripped my throat and walked me backward step by step, until my spine met the wall. What the hell? Fear flooded my veins as he leaned down until his nose was inches away from mine.

“I treated you like this, wife.”

His lips pressed against mine in a rough kiss. For a second, I was too shocked to move, too surprised for my brain to fully register what was happening. That feeling quickly wore off.

I tried to turn my head, to tear my mouth away from his. But his grip on my throat tightened, forcing me to be still. It wasn’t until I bit his lip that he released me. I shoved him away from me, hand going to my mouth where I tasted blood, his blood.

My angry gaze met his, and I was shocked at how different he looked. He no longer appeared a picture of poised perfection. There was a savage glint in his eyes, a hunger I’d never seen before.

He touched his hand to his lip and stared at his fingers. Instead of getting angry, he chuckled.