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    Cruel Lies
    Cruel Lies
    Cruel Lies
    Ebook127 pages1 hour

    Cruel Lies

    By Celia Crown

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    "I'd hate to make you cry more when I take you back."

     

    Marcel is kind, generous, and compassionate. He's also hostile, mean, and unsympathetic.

     

    Moving in with her older brother's best friend—an absurdly handsome and wealthy actor—is not what Bell wanted. Marcel didn't give her a choice when he promises he'll take care of her while she works on her dream college program.

     

    He won't expose her to the hideous experience of the entertainment industry. He'd love to wrap his arms around her with cameras showing the world that Bell is his.

     

    He's aware of how much pain and changes the industry can do to someone. There's no need to tap into that unsightly world to control her.

     

    Marcel is good at what he does. He's confident in his power over her, but too much desire will ruin his plan.

     

    Day after day, Marcel smiles at her with adoration, watches with overwhelming love, and touches with so much possessive pain.

     

    "Growing pains," he'd say.

     

    He never put a hand on her, but she seems to always be hurt when she's with him. Maybe that's why Bell has always been scared of him.

     

    He's just as much of a manipulator as he is a liar.

     

    Bell doesn't stand a chance, nor will she ever have one.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCelia Crown
    Release dateApr 17, 2023
    ISBN9798223709817
    Cruel Lies

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      Book preview

      Cruel Lies - Celia Crown

      CRUEL LIES

      ____________________

      CELIA CROWN

      Copyright © 2021 by Celia Crown.

      All rights reserved.

      This book is a work of fiction.

      The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

      Contents

      Cruel Lies

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Epilogue

      Afterword

      More Books

      Cruel Lies

      By Celia Crown

      I’d hate to make you cry more when I take you back.

      Marcel is kind, generous, and compassionate. He’s also hostile, mean, and unsympathetic.

      Moving in with her older brother’s best friend—an absurdly handsome and wealthy actor—is not what Bell wanted. Marcel didn’t give her a choice when he promises he’ll take care of her while she works on her dream college program.

      He won’t expose her to the hideous experience of the entertainment industry. He’d love to wrap his arms around her with cameras showing the world that Bell is his.

      He’s aware of how much pain and changes the industry can do to someone. There’s no need to tap into that unsightly world to control her.

      Marcel is good at what he does. He’s confident in his power over her, but too much desire will ruin his plan.

      Day after day, Marcel smiles at her with adoration, watches with overwhelming love, and touches with so much possessive pain.

      Growing pains, he’d say.

      He never put a hand on her, but she seems to always be hurt when she’s with him. Maybe that’s why Bell has always been scared of him.

      He’s just as much of a manipulator as he is a liar.

      Bell doesn’t stand a chance, nor will she ever have one.

      Chapter One

      __________

      Bell

      Most have similar impressions about Marcel Mariano.

      Perfection.

      He’s kind to his fans when he signs his merch, chatting and giving a fraction of his attention to hook their naivety to his charm. He’s generous with his money, and he never hesitates to donate to non-profit organizations to help a worldwide crisis. He’s hard-working, producing gifted creativity for everyone to use as an escape from reality.

      My brother says it’s true. He’s biased—he’s been friends with Marcel since they were born, and my brother doesn’t always see the good in people. He sings his praises, mentioning Marcel and his accomplishments in every conversation.

      At thirty, Marcel is in the prime of his life. The expectation of his greatness would continue, and not a soul believes he will retire soon.

      We’ve met, but we’re not close. I hardly know the man, yet I seem to know more about him than necessary. I know he likes to browse international finance articles, but he always ends up soaking in the true crime section. He finds the psychological aspect fascinating, a debate of nature and nurture sparking his desire to research them for his method acting.

      It’s frightening how he fits so well into the serial killer role. Flash a charming smile, graze his big hand across his victim’s supple skin, and snatch them up with a switch of expression.

      The movie was amazing. Once it came out, there were fights about which serial killer the movie was inspired by. At the press conference, the director proudly claimed it was his originality.

      I don’t know how true that is, but Marcel’s smile twisted a little more sinisterly than I’d like. I felt the chills despite him being an ocean away.

      Marcel always made me uncomfortable, not in a wanton way, but it was the way his eyes would follow me when I walked by my brother’s computer screen. They would video chat daily, and I’d have to hide in my room until they finished.

      I had made the mistake of walking into the kitchen during a call, and my brother waved me down to greet Marcel. By the end of the call, Marcel knew about everything up till that point. He was magnetic, easily guiding the conversation to topics he wanted to know about me.

      Are you paying for the electricity?

      I flinch, fingers curling harshly around the fridge handle as I inhale a freezing breath. The refrigerator light blinds me with black dots scattering behind my eyes.

      You’ve been staring at that mustard bottle like it offended you, my brother digs, elbowing my side.

      He’s supposed to drive Marcel to our house from the private airport. Celebratory dinner after Marcel’s success is a tradition; movies or TV dramas, he’s here after his work hits the screen.

      I managed to skip some with flimsy excuses about work and classes, but I didn’t have an excuse this time.

      I don’t know why you need so many flavors, I grumble under my breath as I slowly shut the refrigerator.

      How am I supposed to find which one I like if I don’t try them all? he chirps, tossing the keys onto the keyholder on the wall.

      My brother doesn’t even like mustard.

      A big hand slides over the curve of my waist, sinking in strong fingers, and he spins me around with controlled strength. I stumble weakly, frowning as a bizarrely pleasant scent curl in my lungs.

      I missed you, belladonna, Marcel says, voice dipping lower than the rumble in his broad chest.

      Beautiful lady or deadly nightshade, he never specified when he first called me that.

      The corner of my lips twitches, a polite smile replacing my apprehension as I croak a greeting. His thick arm clenches tighter around my waist, unsatisfied with my trembling words while a hazy gray obscures his amber eyes.

      I swallow to calm my jittery nerves. I missed you too.

      I took up volunteering at a local pet center just to avoid any possibility of him being here on the weekends. He’s an A-list actor with homes across the world, but he chooses to be here whenever he can.

      Sometimes he’s gone for weeks or months, but never a full year. I can’t predict when he comes, so I make it a habit to not be home on the weekends.

      I’m going to help them, I mumble, side-eyeing the finished table. Make yourself at home.

      I don’t have to tell him twice when he has a spare key and an extra parking spot that my dad built just for him. As a freelance builder, my dad has the skills and the time to make Marcel feel at home.

      Marcel’s family can only be described as distant relatives because they aren’t interested in him being an actor.

      An actor who makes one million per episode is not someone to be ignored.

      I shake off the feeling of his eyes on my back as I reach up for more napkins. There are enough on the table, but I need something to do so I’m not left alone with him.

      My mom and dad fly into the kitchen, happiness beaming from their excitement as they throw themselves at the man. I pick up on their conversation as I leisurely set the napkins down and edge away from the group.

      My temple throbs, forcing me to look up and meet his scheming eyes. His sickeningly sweet smile has my mom swooning, but all I get are chills biting my skin.

      He hasn’t done anything bad. I can’t put my finger on why he makes me uneasy. He’s compassionate, attractive, and very noble—positive qualities of a successful person.

      Is being too kind a flaw?

      I can’t stay here long, Marcel mentions, and my parents' groaning follows quickly.

      He usually stays for the weekend whenever he’s here, so I don’t mind staying in my room tomorrow. I’ll just stack up on water and snacks, then casually tell my parents that I have a paper due.

      Huh, my brother intones curtly. You’re happy.

      I’m always happy, I counter grumpily as I sit in front of him.

      You weren’t laughing yesterday.

      I watch as Marcel slips into the seat beside mine, his pants brushing my soft thigh as he smiles while his hand lingers on the back of my chair.

      Well, I mumble. You were invading my space.

      I needed the purifier, my brother barks playfully.

      I needed it more than you. It reeked after you left. I brush a piece of stray hair from my cheek.

      He scoffs, picking up his utensils with a dejected pout. My brother has been trying to find his scent, something that’ll make him attractive like Marcel after his fiancée said he smelled like an old man.

      I knew there was a reason why I liked his fiancée the moment I met her.

      You and your weird hygiene, he says, clipped. I was in there for two seconds.

      I should get my own place, I

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