Grand Lies by JC Hawke

1

Nina

Never in mywildest dreams could I have comprehended how my life would turn out. I’m a firm believer that luck is the one thing between myself and some of the most unfortunate people in this world. Yet as I stand, hands on hips, chest heaving, glancing around at my studio—I know, hand on heart, that luck has absolutely nothing to do with my success.

My studio may have materialised under fortunate events—a case of being in the right place at the right time. But it was the years I spent working late nights in our local bar that allowed me to take the opportunity when it presented itself. Every penny I ever saved went into this studio, and although I might live month to month and down to the penny to keep it, I’m still damn proud of myself and what I’ve achieved.

It’s Friday noon, and I’ve just finished my second class of the day. My girls are working tirelessly to nail our routine for the showcase we have coming up, and as promised, I’ve given them some extra time for their lunch today. It gives me a chance to be alone for a while. To gather my thoughts and let myself go in my safe haven.

It’s a large open space with smooth cream wood floors. Sunlight reflects off them as it streams in through the five Victorian sash windows. A barre adorns the entire length of the mirrored wall, which stands opposite the windows, making the room look much bigger than it is. In a small rectangular bay at the back of the room sits a magnificent, sleek black grand piano. It was here when I viewed the building and was never removed. It suits the studio, so I never complained.

I feel more at home here than anywhere I’ve ever lived. I’d come here in the middle of the night when darkness steals the light of my existence if I didn’t think I’d get caught.

I started renting the space twelve months ago when I met the owner in a café. We got chatting, and she told me about the building. She had to find a new tenant within three weeks, or she was going to have to sell. I knew I had to jump at the chance and pray I’d get the girls through the door to afford the monthly payments.

It’s a two-storey building, so—after a lot of thought and deliberation and some unhelpful input from my friends—I converted the downstairs into an open gym. The memberships, along with my dance lessons, allow me to keep up the payments, and the owner, Erin, did me a deal to make it affordable until I had it up and running.

She completely changed my life that day, and I’m forever grateful to her for helping make my dreams a reality.

Dancing is my passion, it’s all I know, and it’s what gets me out of bed in the mornings. I’m blessed to have a career I adore so much.

I head towards the benches and pick up my phone; I have five missed calls and two texts, one from my mum and one from my best friend Lucy. I open the text from Lucy first.

Lucy: Hugh ended it. Meeting at The Pearl, 8 pm.

This doesn’t shock me, and it means tonight will end up more than a little bit messy. Hugh was no good for Luce. She’s gorgeous, a natural blonde bombshell and a hopeless romantic who longs for something far from reality. Hugh was only ever interested in a Monday to Thursday relationship.

Hugh was an ass.

No doubt Megan will be joining us to help drown in Lucy’s sorrows. I consider calling Mum back, but I already know what she wants. It’s the only reason she ever calls. Rolling my eyes, I delete her message without opening it. Chucking my phone back in my bag, I take off down the studio stairs and head for the gym, knowing I’ll regret my choice to skip lunch.

* * *

“I didn’t likethat slimy bastard anyway,” says Megan as she drains the last of her pinot, she waves her glass at the barman for another, earning herself a deep frown from him in return. I drop my head and chuckle. How many have they had? I’m only forty minutes late.

I screw my face up, thinking about Hugh and his less than stellar morals. “Me neither. He had all that extra body hair; I just couldn’t get past it myself.” I grimace apologetically at Lucy.

“Ugh, yes.” Megan snaps her fingers at me. “I swear he had hairs poking out his nose when I’d speak with him, and those arms.” She fakes an over-the-top shiver.

Lucy’s mouth drops open, and she flicks her eyes dramatically between us. “Thanks, bitches.” Her hand slaps down on the table. “You tell me this now!” We laugh into our drinks as she takes an ice cube and launches it at us. It bounces off my head and onto the bench seat, making us all break out into hysterics.

“Oh, oh, him over there with the grey tie,” Megan interrupts our laughing fit excitedly.

Lucy scans the group of suits closest to our table until she spots the guy Megan is referring to.

Her eyes go wide.

“The bald one?!” Lucy openly points at the poor guy, and I drop my head in my hands. “Gee, talk about extremes, Megan.”

Heads turn our way as we giggle like a bunch of schoolgirls, but I know this is precisely what Lucy needs right now. Untamed time with the girls is the best form of medicine, after all.

I get up to go to the bar—much to Megan’s dismay, and she tuts, shaking her head at the barman, who is completely oblivious. Picking up her glass, I turn and give her a cheeky wink. She looks gorgeous tonight; her dark brown hair is pulled back in a sleek high ponytail, her lips painted a bright red.

I love my dear friends; I’ve known Lucy my entire life. I even lived with her for most of my childhood. Her parents filled a void in my life that no child should ever need filling. Lucy moved into the city with me when we joined university eight years ago.

And that’s where we met Megan. She was loud and silly and the missing piece of a trio we never knew we needed. She moved into our dorm room four weeks later, and the rest is history—sacred. Misdemeanours we’ll take to the grave.

We managed to score one of the oval booths in the centre of The Pearl tonight. We have the perfect view of the whole place from it. The bar sits along the back wall lined with padded stools; pendant lights hang above the entire bar top setting a glow over the marble counter.

I manage to squeeze in next to a woman who’s waiting for her drinks. The ratio of women to men in this place is lower than a ho’s standards.

“What can I get you?” the cute barman asks.

“Three glasses of pinot grigio, please.”

I slide onto one of the stools and look around the club. It’s abuzz with music, the steady beat pumping through the speakers and creating the perfect Friday night vibe. My eyes drift to the four large pillars that encase the marble dance floor. It sits on a platform to the left of the bar, like a stage for men to watch upon. It’s currently full of women moving their bodies with the music, probably hoping to bag one of the asshole suits for the night.

We’re so off them.

As if sensing my thoughts, I catch someone from the corner of my eye sliding onto the stool that the woman has just left.

“Hey, Nina!”

“Joey, hi.” I give a polite smile and then eye the barman.

Hurry up, please.

I know this guy; he is everywhere we go on a night out, and it’s getting a little bit annoying.

I look over at the girls for help. Lucy is giving me the thumbs up while Megan stands, pretending to slowly grind herself on Lucy’s chair. My eyes go wide before I close them and look back to Joey.

For fuck’s sake.

“I’ve not seen you out in a while. How’s the dancing going?” Joey asks, staring far too intently into my eyes. I flick my eyes around the club, uncomfortable and not knowing where to look.

“Really great, actually. We have a show in six weeks,” I mutter back.

Joey is gorgeous; I can appreciate a good-looking man when he’s standing in front of my face, but there is something about him that doesn’t do it for me. Many times, I’ve found myself stuck chatting to him about something completely mundane. Like now, he doesn’t even acknowledge my mood. I’m clearly not interested and have hardly muttered a word, yet he is chattering on about God knows what.

My gaze flicks to the side as I see two men approach the bar, slipping in behind me. The barman places my order on the cool marble and takes my card. I use the opportunity to turn my body towards the bar and away from Joey. His lips are moving, but I’m lost in the divine smell emanating from the males to my right to understand a word he is saying.

“Two blue label scotches, please,” a deep voice asks at my back. “Did you clock the blonde in the centre booth?”

My ears perk up at the mention of the girls. Okay, I need to get rid of Joey, so I can fully listen in on their conversation.

“No,” replies the other man. He sounds bored, maybe a little bit pissy. “Don’t be that man, El.”

“Me, you mean, don’t be me,” the first guy ‘El’ shoots back. “Come on, Charles, you know if you’re out with me, you’re my wingman for the night. I know you noticed them too.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he teases his friend.

I nod to Joey, pretending to listen, not having a damn clue what he’s saying.

“You’ll be disappointed with that one El, she’s heartbroken.”

My frown is instant; I wasn’t expecting that. My head snaps around, eager to put a face to the man as Joey shouts in my ear.

“It’s on Netflix. You’ve got to watch it.” I instantly lean away, head butting straight into a solid bicep.

I look up and into a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Oh god, he’s flipping gorgeous. Blond hair shaved neatly at the sides and slightly longer on top. He’s tall—really tall and physically fit. His muscles strain against the smooth fabric of his pale blue shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” I mutter, jerking away.

My eyes find the other man and instantly betray me, widening in shock at the sheer maleness before me. Oh my fuck, they are both flipping hot! Dark hair, blue eyes, equally as fit, the two of them look like they belong on the front of a magazine.

I turn my attention to Joey and find him glaring at the side of my head.

Oh, please piss off.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Joey asks, hopefully.

I wince. He’s not a bad bloke, and I feel for the guy I do, but I’m just not interested.

“No. Not tonight, Joey, sorry. I’m here with the girls.”

“What about tomorrow? Do you have rehearsals?”

I would lie if I thought he’d believe me, but I’m the worst liar. I fidget and curl my fingers into my collarbone. My mum used to call me out as a kid. It was something I started doing from a young age, and even now, I don’t even realise I’m doing it.

So, I tell the truth. I mean, Joey won’t know I plan to sleep the weekend away. It’s been a busy week in the studio, and I’m exhausted. “No, I don’t work the weekend, but I am busy. Sorry.”

“Ahh, that’s okay, maybe another time?”

I smile and thank god that the conversation is over. Feeling uncomfortable, I look to my right again and find the two hotties listening in on our conversation. The dark-haired guy raises his brows as if in warning. Confused, I turn my head back around to find Joey still staring at me, waiting for an answer.

Oh, for Christ’s sake, take a hint! I feel two hands take hold of my chair possessively, and then I’m being spun around.

“Look, mate, she isn’t interested, fuck off.”

Oh my god, I’m now staring at the blond’s chest. He’s glaring over my head. My cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Fuck you!” Joey sneers, sounding fuming mad. What is happening? “I’m her friend, you rude prick!”

“No, you’re not. You’re trying your luck to get laid, soft cock. Now leave!” The last bit comes out as a growl, and I shrink down farther in my seat. I should stop this, Joey is harmless, and I’ve never set him straight. This is a shamble.

“Nina?”

“It’s fine, Joey, you go. I’m going to get my drinks and head back to the girls.” I turn my head to see him standing at my back, his face bright red with rage. My eyes plead with him.

Please don’t cause a scene.

He downs the last of his pint then slams his glass down onto the bar. I eye my drinks like they are a ticket to Hogwarts and start to pick up the tray. Joey looks at me one last time before he shakes his head, turning for the exit.

“You okay?” This comes from the tall, dark-haired guy. He has a soft look in his eyes as if he feels bad for what his friend has just done.

“Yes, I’m fine, sorry. He’s alright, just hasn’t taken the hint yet.” I drop my head, completely mortified.

“I’m Charlie.”

My eyes lift and I smile. There’s something about this man. He’s got an air about him that instantly makes me feel safe. My hand finds his outstretched one, and he returns my smile.

My gaze moves to the blond. He is staring down his nose at me, and I squirm under his glare. What’s his problem? I can see his mind ticking over as he assesses me.

This one, I’m not getting quite the same feels from. He’s hot. I mean, hot doesn’t even come close to this guy. He oozes power. His tailored suit tells me that alone, but that look he’s giving me tells me he’s the boss. Like, the boss’s, boss’s boss. I force my chin up and don’t back down. His brows rise, then he breaks out into a chuckle.

My brows draw in. “Okay, crazy.” Time to go.

I spin with my tray, ready to hotfoot it back to my girls. Where are those bitches anyway? They saw I needed an out with Joey.

“Hey, wait a second, Pixie.”

I stop, slowly spinning on my heel. Pixie. Is this guy serious?

“Excuse me?” I jolt my head to the side for effect, but I have a feeling the wine has already made me tipsy, and I look like a fool.

He grins at me, and I can’t help it; the wall I put up ten seconds ago crumbles with his playful manner.

“That’s your friends over there, the blonde and brunette?” He smiles cheekily.

Oh, I’m so on to you, mister.

“Who?” I crane my neck, pretending to look around for said beauties. The pair of idiots are standing. Why are they standing? I screw my face up every which way. Come and help me! They stare at me, open-mouthed.

I roll my eyes. “Nope, I don’t know them.” I catch Charlie’s eyes. The corner of his mouth tipping up into a smile.

“Ah, okay, no worries.” The blond one gives me a wink, turning back to the bar to down his drink.

I make a dash away, finally, after what feels like an eternity since I left to go to the bar. I do my best to shimmy my way back to the girls without spilling a drop of wine, taking the long way around and heading past the dance floor to throw the boys off.

“What the hell was that?” Lucy shouts when I’m a few feet from the table. I sit down, grab my drink and down it in one, wincing from the sweetness that sets my cheeks tingling. “Who were those guys, and what did you say to Joey? He was so angry when he left.”

“Me? I didn’t say anything. It was him.” I search the bar for the blond guy and Charlie, but I can’t see them anywhere.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” she scoffs, taking her drink from the tray. “We saw them, babe.” She salutes me with her glass.

I roll my eyes, laughing with them.

“Did you get numbers? Please tell me you got numbers!” Megan begs.

“No! The blond guy was intense and had the attitude of an eighteen-year-old boy.”

Lucy’s mouth drops open again, and Megan breaks out into a face splitting grin. She has a glint in her eye that she only gets when she’s on a manhunt.

I look to my empty drink and pray it will actually take me to Hogwarts. The blond asshole is behind me. I turn slowly, confirming my suspicions when I find him towering above me with a tray of shots, eyebrows raised high as he tries to look offended. Charlie looks at me sympathetically with a grin on his face. His head turned to the side, looking all adorable. I slide into the seat deeper, sighing as I make room for them.

“Pixie, I see you made some new friends. Want to introduce me?” His facade slips, and he cracks a smile. I elbow him in the ribs, my own smile splitting my face.

“Megan, Lucy, this is Charlie and…” I look to the blond in question. I don’t remember his name. Did he even tell me? I smile. “Ken.”

He throws his head back, laughing, as does Charlie.

“Tequila, girls?”

Oh god. As I said, it’s going to get messy.

* * *

It’seleven p.m. and the club is completely packed. There isn’t a spare seat in sight—every square foot filled with men and women fawning over each other.

The night has been better than I’d expected. The boys, Charlie and Ken—or Elliot as I now know him to be—have been hilarious. I have danced, sang and laughed more than I have in a long time. I feel good. I feel drunk. I’m so drunk.

Lucy is tucked under Charlie’s arm, having a deep ‘I won’t remember this in the morning’ talk. She’s all tequila’d out. Is that even a word? I frown into my glass of water. We need to get her home.

Megan comes back from the dance floor with a guy on her arm, and I nod my head to where Lucy is sitting and mouth, We are going. She turns, giving her man an all tongue and teeth kiss as he grabs her behind, grinding into her as she whispers in his ear. I look at Elliot, sitting next to me, only to find he has the same horrified expression on his face. We both erupt with laughter.

But then he stops and stares at me, his face growing somewhat serious in his drunken state. His eyes pinch in at the corners, his lips twisting up in thought. Maybe it’s the tequila, but I can’t control my features, and I continue to laugh in his face. Elliot shakes his head as he looks down into his glass, his face morphing back to that megawatt smile.

* * *

Mase

I rollmy car into my apartment building’s underground car park, heading for my space at the farthest end along the back wall. My dash reads 22:34, but it feels a whole lot later.

A layer of sweat still sits on my skin from my late-night workout. It’s been a shit week. The same old shit in the office topped off with a call from my father tonight.

My phone alerts me of a new message just as I’m reversing in. I put my car in park and pick it up.

Elliot: I have something for you (Pixie emoji)

Pick me up @ The Pearl

The life of Elliot Montgomery. It must be nice having all the girls, money, and power, but no burden of the empire we’ve built. I love my best friend. He’s one of the smartest, loyalist men I know, but he’s a lazy bastard. Our parents were best friends growing up, which meant by default, we became best friends. It wasn’t ever a choice, but he’s the family I choose now.

Clicking back on the screen, I read the message again, shaking my head in annoyance. I needed that idiot tonight, and he was out? Chasing fucking pixies. I shake my head and laugh. “Not tonight, my friend,” I mutter to no one.

Climbing from my car on aching legs, I round the bonnet, grabbing my gym bag from the back seat. I walk to the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse, leaning back and running my hands over my face. The steel doors jolt open, and I flick on the lights. It doesn’t feel like a home anymore, it’s cold and serves the only purpose of a hole to rest my head. Its charm’s lost on me. Dimming the lights and blanketing the place in darkness, my feet hit the stairs, and I leave the shadows of the apartment behind me.

Ten minutes later, I emerge from my en suite fresh from a shower. A towel wrapped low around my waist. Dropping down to the bed, I run my hands over my face and hair. I contemplate having a drink to take the edge off, but I already know nothing will be strong enough.

My mind goes back to Elliot’s text and that little pixie emoji. It’s been years. Blowing out a breath, I sit up in a rush, making a rash decision based on the warmth that spreads through my chest.

The streets are full and bustling with the Friday night crowd as I weave in and out of London traffic with one thing on my mind.

My Pixie.

I feel childish, even thinking about it. I’m a thirty-two-year-old man, for fuck’s sake. What if Elliot is just taking the piss anyway? I’ve never known him to be a serious man.

I rest my elbow on the window, running my pointer finger over my bottom lip. All I know is I couldn’t turn my car around, even if I wanted to.

The club comes into view, and I manage to find a space on the next road. A rarity on a Friday night in London, and the reason I barely drive myself anymore. Sliding out my phone, I shoot Elliot a text telling him I’m here, then step from my Bentley and hit lock on my key fob. Adrenaline is the only thing propelling my body in the direction of the club.