A Villain’s Lies Read Online T.L. Smith

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
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But if there is one thing I learned in therapy it’s that I have to move on. Otherwise, I physically will not be able to move. It took a lot of time to let those words really sink in because it wasn’t me simply giving in to what happened, it was showing them that I am stronger than I thought.

My therapist asked once if I had ever thought about finding my biological parents. My reply was instant—I laughed at her. Why would someone choose to find people who gave them up so willingly, basically selling their child? I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. I’m a relatively positive person now. I work on my affirmations. I tell myself daily how strong and beautiful I am and I can do anything I set my mind to.

It wasn’t easy when I first started declaring these thoughts; I didn’t believe them, but I said them anyway. And I found it amazing what the power of the mind could do because eventually, the weight and the guilt on my chest eased, and I started to believe them.

I don’t tell anyone about my backstory. I’m not even sure Jake knows all of my history. He isn’t really one to share anyway. So I guess I’m thankful for that.

I’m also incredibly thankful when Grayson saw me naked, he didn’t see my back. When I decided to work for Jake and take back my power and my own body it led to pleasing other people, I always wore something which would cover my back. That way if someone touched it, I wouldn’t feel like they were putting acid on me. It’s the only part of me that I still can’t stand to look at. Luckily, it’s easy to avoid.

My therapist also asked me once, “If I give you lemons, what are you going to do with them?” I looked at her, confused about where she was going with that. Did she want me to throw them at her like balls? She laughed and answered, “You’re going to make lemonade out of the lemons, as the old saying goes. But what they failed to tell you is, that when you turn lemons into lemonade, you can then sell it. Which in turn gives you a profit. That is how these men used to think of you. But now that you have the lemons, it’s up to you to decide what you do with the lemonade.”

It didn’t make much sense when she said it, but I understand her analogy.

It is my choice to do what I want, and no one can take that away from me.

Not anymore.

So I turned my lemons into lemonade and made it my bitch.

Chapter 8

Grayson, who?

Grayson

I’ve tried for a long time to stop, but it’s an addiction.

A deadly one.

One I simply can’t seem to give up.

No matter how hard I try.

Like some people are addicted to cigarettes or alcohol.

I will go on the record and say sex is probably my other addiction. If a man says he’s not into sex, he’s most definitely lying.

But my number one addiction is the obsession of watching the life drain from someone’s eyes as they are half asleep.

My first-ever job was because of the Hunter brothers. They dared me to do it, thinking I wouldn’t. They had a hit on someone and told me if I did it, they would pay me more money than I could have ever dreamed of.

So I did it that same night.

I’d like to say I found my calling.

But I’m not entirely sure someone can as a killer.

A hired gun, as they like to say.

The Hunters didn’t believe me when I told them what I did. So Zuko went to check out for himself that the mark was dead.

He was.

Still lying in bed.

Strangled in his sleep.

He joked and called me the bogeyman and the name stuck.

The only people who call me by my first name are my mother, brother, and Avani. My employees call me boss, and everyone else calls me bogeyman. But that’s because I have no friends and those that call me by bogeyman, are in the world of killing.

The sole reason I became a hired gun for the Hunters was that it pulled the authorities off their tracks. If they were somewhere in plain sight, how could they have possibly killed someone?

It worked.

And it worked again and again.

I watch as my newest mark climbs into his bed. He doesn’t see me, but I see him clear as day. I’m in his room, crouched in his closet, while he finishes up talking to someone on the phone.

When I opened his closet earlier, I was disgusted. Photographs—ones a grown ass men should never have—were stashed in the sock drawer. I came to snoop, to gather information, but what I found made me change the purpose for my visit.



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