Filthy Beautiful Lies(#1#2)

Sophie

“This is so freaking weird,” I say, turning to Becca.

“What is?” she replies, adjusting the ties of her bikini top.

“Dad is over there talking to Colton.” The man who purchased me at a sex auction, I mentally add.

“So?”

Becca and I both turn and gaze across the pool to where Colton and our father are standing under the shade of the cedar gazebo, sipping cocktails and talking casually.

“It’s just weird,” I admonish.

She shrugs at my discomfort. “We’re big girls, Soph. Dad doesn’t care if you’re sleeping with a millionaire. Shit, he’s probably proud. I know I am.” She grins at me.

I roll my eyes, thankful for the cover of my sunglasses. She’s crazy. The anxiety I felt planning this party was mostly over how my dad and Colton would get along. I’ve never introduced my parents to a man before. Especially not one who’s seven years older, runs a company, and has his own mansion in Malibu. It’s little nerve wracking.

My mom has made herself busy helping out in the kitchen, clearly uncomfortable letting the hired help wait on us hand and foot, even though Colton and I both told her numerous times to enjoy and relax. I don’t think my mother knows how to relax. It’s something I’m just now learning how to do myself.

The day is pretty perfect though. The sun is shining brightly overhead. The temperature is perfect. Soft reggae music hums lazily in the background through the outdoor speakers and the bar is stocked with tropical drinks and icy bottles of beer. No one’s in the pool yet, but brightly colored balls bob on the surface of the water enticingly. After much more laying out, I’m sure I’ll be ready to take a dip myself.

Collins and Pace are seated at the bar, each with a drink in hand. It’s early still and Beth, Colton’s personal chef, has everything prepped for a barbecue later. Which makes me even more curious about what my mother could be helping with inside. She’s probably driving Beth insane.

I take another sip of my mango daiquiri and try to relax.

Marta comes strolling through the patio doors like she’s working a runway catwalk. For some reason the sight of her in her little red string-bikini makes my stomach knot. I hate that she and Colton had a fling – no matter how brief.

“Who the hell’s that?” Becca asks, lowering her shades.

“Marta. She works for Colton as his personal assistant.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Becca says.

Apparently Marta didn’t quite get the casual pool party theme, her makeup is expertly done and she’s styled her hair in perfect waves that fall down her shoulders and back. My own hair is tossed into a messy ponytail and the only thing decorating my skin is a thick layer of greasy sunscreen. I feel the need to march upstairs, add mascara and lipstick and change into my pushup bra-bikini top. Instead I chug down the remainder of my drink.

“Refill?” Becca asks, chuckling at me.

“Yes, please.”

Becca waltzes over to the bar, introduces herself to Marta and makes brief small talk with Pace and Collins, refills each of our daiquiri glasses, then stops to talk to Dad and Colton.

She finally returns with our semi-melted drinks in hand. “What was all that about?” I ask, accepting the drink and slurping down an icy mouthful.

“Okay, first off. Colton’s brothers are hot as shit.”

I nod. Duh.

“I still think Pace and I could have had fun in Italy…” she says to no one in particular. “Second, don’t worry about Dad and Colton. They’re talking about Colton’s charity work in Africa and Dad is practically drooling, hanging on his every word. I’m pretty sure Dad’s got a mancrush on your boyfriend.”

“Thanks, Becs.” I wondered what she was doing. Then again, spying for me was practically in the twin handbook.

“Third, Marta is nobody you need to be concerned with. Her tits are obviously fake and seriously, who wears heels to a pool party?”

I hadn’t noticed her footwear, but Becca’s right, her sandals have a four-inch heel. Son of a…

“She’s trying too hard, Soph,” Becca continues. “You’re naturally beautiful and men prefer that over fake any day. Trust me.”

I release a heavy sigh. I know she’s right. Colton doesn’t look at Marta the way he does at me. “She and Colton had a fling,” I admit to Becca. “When he first separated from his ex-wife. I’m pretty sure she’s not only seen my man’s package, but she’s had the pleasure of being on her knees before him, taking him deep into her throat.”

“What a royal bitch.”

I laugh, loving Becca’s instant hatred for Marta.

“Seriously, sis, are you good with her working for him, given their past? If not, you should talk to him.” The frown that tugs down her mouth is familiar to me. It’s the same one I see whenever I look into the mirror.

“He had a talk with her. Told her that if she caused any problems between us, she’d be fired.”

“Yes, but when she shows up here looking like that, something tells me you should have your own little talk with her. A nicely phrased, back up off my man, bitch, ought to do the trick.”

“You think?” I’d never imagined saying anything to Marta directly, but now that Becca is suggesting it, the idea fills me with both anxiety and a strange tinge of excitement. I’ve never laid claim to a man before.

I suck down the rest of my drink until the straw makes a loud slurping noise against the bottom of the cup. “Hold this.” I hand it to Becca. Without giving myself the opportunity to chicken out, I rise from the chair and strut over to where Marta is talking to Pace and Collins beside the bar.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

“Can I have a word, Marta?”