Lured into Lies by Melanie Martins

Chapter 1

Bermuda, October 23, 2020

Petra Van Gatt

I watch the gentle waves slowly crashing onto the shore, the foam momentarily resting on the wet sand, before retreating back into the sea.

The sun is settling down on the horizon, sinking into the water and turning the sky into a pallet of warm reds and oranges. Hendrik’s private beach truly has the most mesmerizing sunsets I’ve ever seen. A welcomed, fresh breeze starts caressing my cheeks and cooling the hot, Caribbean air, announcing the beginning of the evening. Despite the tranquil moment, my body is all tensed up, my mind still racing from the heated argument with my fiancé—a fiancé whose past I know near nothing about. Head shaking at my own fate, I stretch my legs so that my feet touch the foam, which is still present. I’m still wearing the same bikini from this morning, and by the amount of time I’ve spent here, I must have gotten a sunburn or at least some form of a tan.

“It’s a beautiful sunset.”

My gaze follows the deep, baritone male voice and it lands on Hendrik, who is slowly pacing in my direction with his hands in his pockets. He’s sporting dark blue Bermudas and a white linen shirt, looking casual, yet elegant for the evening. I notice the way he is walking is nearly the same as how Alex does, aside from the very slight hobble in his step, which reflects the truth of his age. The breeze plays subtly with the hem of his shirt, and some locks of his hair are tousled about. A small smile escapes me as I watch him try to compose both at the same time.

“It is,” I mumble, wondering what brought him here in the first place. After all, this part of the beach is more secluded, as it is right in front of Alex’s bedroom and you’d have to walk quite a way to reach it.

My attention goes to the sunset again, but I can feel Hendrik stopping right beside me.

“May I?” he asks.

I just nod, giving him a quick glance.

As he sits next to me, his calone-infused cologne fills the space between us, blending perfectly with the salty notes of the sea air.

In silence, we remain watching the sun, now half covered by the horizon. “I know it sucks when the person we love keeps secrets from us.”

My heart skips a beat; I was not mentally prepared to be slapped with a reality-check about this subject. “Why do you say so?” My question comes off a bit more aggressive than I had meant, but today has been a rough day—a day where all of my fears had been rising to the surface.

I see him hesitating in the way he catches his breath, his eyes still pinned on the horizon. Rather quickly, he finally blurts out, “I’ve been thinking about that question of yours.”

“Oh…” Our conversation from yesterday plays out in my mind, and I recall perfectly well his expression when I asked him, “Doesn’t Mona trust you that way?” I urge him to continue his thought, nearly forcing out the word, “And?”

Hendrik draws in a breath, his gaze turning more serious and tormented. “Ever since my son broke up with Amanda, I feel like Mona has changed,” he tells me. “Despite our relationship being very strong…” His words hang in the air, and I can see the glitter in his eyes as he struggles to say the rest. “I know deep inside that she is always on her guard…”

On her guard? Mona? But why? My mind immediately goes to work. Though, despite my curiosity, I keep my mouth shut, staring quietly at him.

“Maybe it’s just me, but I feel sometimes she’s keeping things from me…” There’s a small pause as he tiredly exhales. “The point is, I’ve always been an open book with her. But I know this is no longer mutual.”

“And how do you cope with that?”

Hendrik just shrugs his shoulders in return. “I just accept it. What else can I do? Everyone has got some secrets they don’t want to share.”

“Do you?”

“I used to not,” he answers with a confident tone. “But since Mona has hers, why not me?”

Despite his forced smile, my heart aches in pain as I see his distress laced in his gaze. It’s clear to me Hendrik is a very direct and transparent type of person. Maybe that’s why he was so open during our first meeting. It seems like he longs for true, genuine human connections that are deep rather than shallow. And he, just like me with his son, wants to be involved in Mona’s life more than she allows him to.

“And with Margaret?” I ask, the question rolling off my tongue. “Were you holding secrets from each other?”

“Margaret and I had a very different type of relationship, Petra,” he says, his tone steady. “It’s not even comparable.”

My brows raise immediately in surprise, and, unable to hide my astonishment, I ask, “Really? May I ask what type?”

He cocks his head to the side, his gaze drifting from me to the horizon for an instant. I know my questions have been quite intrusive, but at this point, I want to be privy to anything regarding my fiancé’s family so I can understand him better. Hendrik finally looks back at me, and with a small smile, he says, “Husband and wife type.”

I frown at his answer, a bit troubled, before asking, “What’s the difference? I mean, it’s all about commitment, no? Married or not.”

“Well…” His eyes widen for an instant, searching for the best words to put on. “Not when you marry a noblewoman who takes herself a bit too seriously.” Ah, yes—Margaret taking herself too seriously is definitely something we can agree on. “With her…”—there is a small pause as he draws in another breath—“I was just a husband fulfilling his obligations. And that felt,…” He lowers his head, looking down at his lap, his fingers nervously twitching as he thinks. “Um, it’s hard to explain…”

And as I see Hendrik getting so uncomfortable, I feel like I have tapped into something. “It’s alright, I lived my entire life with my dad, I’m sure I can understand.”

His gaze meets mine, and after giving me a tight smile in appreciation, he finally proceeds, “It’s not easy when everyone relies on you. When you’re expected to keep a certain image in front of your family and entourage. I wish I could’ve been more… me.” Those words, for some reason, have an impact on me that I wasn’t expecting. Was his relationship merely a façade? Devoid of mutual trust and complicity? “She expected a lot from me. And when times got hard…I mean, emotionally hard…” Hendrik starts shaking his head at the simple memory of it. “She just wasn’t there for me like I was for her.”

I nod, my eyes glued to his face, absolutely fascinated by his revelations.

“I was always there for her, Petra,” he says with a tone like he wants to convince me. “If she had something troubling her, my attention was all hers. But I’ve learned the hard way it was not mutual.”

I squint my eyes at his words. “So that’s why you started to keep secrets from her?”

“I had no other choice,” he answers quickly. “I wanted more intimacy, more vulnerability. But that was a challenge in our marriage. So, I learned to keep the perfect image that she expected and found support elsewhere.”

I nod at him, not knowing what else to say or do. His openness is truly appreciated though, and I wish Alex could give me the same.

“If my son is keeping things from you, it’s because he doesn’t want to disappoint you,” he says. “He unfortunately learnt that from me.”

“Well, I’m not Margaret. Being kept in the dark is the exact opposite of what I thought our relationship would be like,” I tell him, sounding nearly like a vent, but the truth is, “I don’t want to fail in a marriage that hasn't even gotten started.”

“I understand,” he answers quietly, his lips offering me a pleasant smile. “If there’s one thing my marriage with Margaret taught me, is to be with someone who doesn’t shy away from your true self.” I nod and return the smile in appreciation, looking to the sea for a moment.

They say the older you are, the wiser you get. And Hendrik seems to be a perfect display of wisdom. I feel tempted to ask him further about his current relationship. Actually, in truth, a million other questions buzz around in my mind, but there is one in particular I can’t ignore. “Is there a reason why you never married Mona?” Hendrik can’t hide the shock in his face. “I mean, you have been together for quite awhile, no?”

“That’s a subject for another time, Ms. Van Gatt.” He then stands up and offers me his palm, which I accept to raise myself from the sand. “Now, let’s go have dinner.” I brush the sand from my legs and take his arm, and we slowly start pacing back to the house. “Have you ever tried a black truffle pizza?”