Little Liar: A Dark Taboo Romance (The Web of Silence Duet Book 2)
Little Liar: Chapter 4

Olivia’s music is shit, and she’s giving me a fucking headache.

We’re out running next to the manor, along from the lake we’re heading to, and she keeps going in front of me and nearly tripping me up. I might kick her ankles and leave her in the dirt, but then I’ll feel bad and apologize, so I decide against it.

Her ridiculous pop music is playing in my ear, Olivia with the other earpiece, while she keeps up with my jogging pace. She’s fit. Being a cheerleader and exercising nearly as much as me means we can hang out more. I like to run—so does she.

The perfect sibling fit. And I get to spend more time with her.

Is that weird? I don’t care if it is. I’m always in a better mood when I’m around my little sister, like I can be the best version of myself. She doesn’t even try to force me to talk or act as though there’s something wrong with me, like my asshole friends.

I mean, they aren’t assholes, but they aren’t not assholes.

Shaking my head to focus, my eyes flick to the side, and I try not to look at her chest as I sign, Dad’s teaching me how to drive later.

She laughs. “That’ll be a horrible experience. You should stick to just riding your bike. All he’s going to do is yell the entire time.”

Probably. He doesn’t have much patience, especially since I’ve been in more fights than I can count the last year—plus the fact he caught me smoking a joint out on my balcony.

He tolerates me now. They’ve raised me for the last nine years, so they can’t exactly toss me back into the system, and honestly, as much as I believe my dad hates me sometimes, I think he still cares about me enough to let me stick around.

We argue and fight a lot though, so maybe I’m delusional.

“Keep up or the Bluetooth will cut out,” Olivia calls out.

I blink and realize I’ve fallen behind, but I linger for a bit and watch her ass, mentally slapping myself because she would never speak to me again if she knew I was even looking at her that way. Plus if her connection cuts, then I can rid myself of fucking pop music by some girl group singing about breaking up with their ex and be saved from the earache.

I catch up anyway, and her music switches to something slow as we reach the lake—she’s bending over and catching her breath while I pull my cigarettes from my shorts and light one. She looks over her shoulder at me, still bending over and giving me a full view that I definitely shouldn’t be zoned into.

She frowns and straightens. “Why?”

I raise a questioning brow and hope to fucking God she didn’t catch her own brother checking her out.

“Smoking is bad for you, especially when you’re out running, Malachi.”

Hmm. I love when she says my name.

No. Shut the fuck up.

“Mom and Dad will smell it on you when we get home. I’m not sticking up for you again when they corner you in the kitchen.”

I shrug and blow a cloud of smoke above my head, leaning against a tree stump while watching her stretch. She’s bending over again, touching her toes, and I lift my eyes to the sky before I get caught looking down her top.

This is new.

A little fucked up too.

But over the last few months, I can’t stop looking at Olivia and noticing that not only is she as beautiful as she always has been, but she’s also really, really attractive. Not in a way a brother should be noticing or thinking about.

I get this feeling inside me when she giggles or when she smiles at me—like a flock of butterflies are going wild. It’s addictive. To be happy and excited. I try to be with her at all times to maintain the feeling and try to argue with the voices in my head that it’s all kinds of fucked up to have a crush on someone you call a sibling and were raised with.

Dad would hang me—then shoot me to make sure I’m dead.

I reckon I’d still replace a way to be around Olivia. The ghost in her closet or the monster under her bed she befriends and cuddles to sleep.

I frown at my own ridiculous and immature thoughts while she types on her phone.

The sun is starting to rise. There’s a soft glow around us, peeking through the tree canopy from above. Through the woods, we can see the sun growing brighter in the distance. It’s the same view, but we always end up trapped by it.

But this time it seems I’m the only one paying attention because Olivia comes up beside me, takes my cigarette, then tosses it into the lake.

Her narrowing eyes make me smirk.

Do you want to go into the lake next? I sign. Because I’m seconds from tossing you in too.

Crossing her arms, she pops out her hip. “You wouldn’t.”

She squeals as I grab her, lifting her off her feet and throwing her over my shoulder while walking towards the edge of the lake. She’s kicking her bare legs, screaming my name, and slapping my shoulders. Standing an inch from the water, I silently laugh, sliding her down my front and pretending to swing her in, causing her to tighten her arm around my neck.

I pause when she wraps her legs around my waist and brackets her thighs.

“Please don’t,” she pleads. “I’m begging you.”

Fuck.

Too close.

I drop her like she’s burned me, and she catches herself before she topples in. She slaps my chest. “You asshole!”

I have the sudden urge to grab her face and kiss her.

It’s abrupt and absurd and new. I’ve kissed Olivia a million times, but not the way I want to right now. It’s wrong in so many ways.

I’m attracted to my sister. I must be, right? There’s no way in hell I can’t be attracted to her—to me, she’s a masterpiece.

Realization hits me like a fucking plane crash and makes me blink a few times and look away. My heart beats wildly in my chest at my bad luck. I always knew I was fucked up, but this? This takes the fucking cake. Dad wants me to go back to therapy and get myself medicated. Maybe I should—not for my twisted thoughts, but for the feelings I shouldn’t have for Olivia.

Is there medication that stops you from wanting to kiss your sister?

Before, it was all about protecting her—I always felt an attachment, but not like this. I want to kiss her the way boyfriends and girlfriends do.

My breathing changes, and I’m so damn confused by the way I feel—she’s still too close to me, and I flex my fingers, needing to wrap them in her top and tug her to me, to smash my mouth down on hers, but I step back instead and swallow hard.

She goes back to typing on her phone while I light another cigarette, refusing to look at her. She’s unaffected and none the wiser that her brother is fighting an inner war not to ruin everything by acting on impulse. We’re sixteen and seventeen now, but we’re still too young for me to be thinking the way I do.

Now I’m angry. Because I have a crush on someone I can never have. I want to explode at the world, or maybe pick a fight with my father and see if he’s all talk about beating my ass when he threatens me.

Coming to stand by my side, she nudges me with her shoulder and tips her chin to the sunrise. “I know you have a heart of stone, but you gotta admit that it’s pretty.”

It is, I sign lazily, my eyes on her as she looks back at the view.

My heart isn’t made of stone. It’s filled with poison.

What would she do if I did kiss her? Would she kiss me back and become my little secret, or would she run to our parents and get me kicked out of the family?

Maybe she’d pull away from me but wouldn’t tell a soul.

The risk is fucking big, but I want to feel my lips on hers so damn badly.

Ultimately, as she wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest, we watch as the sun reaches the horizon, me inhaling the strawberry scent of her hair and running my fingers through the soft strands like I always do.

Even this isn’t normal. I know it isn’t, but I don’t care.

We can’t be close like this in front of our parents or our friends. I was already thrown to the other side of the manor because I kissed her on the lips during a board-game celebration. It was innocent, but Mom and Dad lost their fucking heads.

So we’re only close like this in secret. When we go for runs together or sneak into one another’s rooms to cuddle, or when I hold her hand while she tries to calm down from a nightmare.

There’s a boundary that society created, stopping me from falling in love with my sister, and I want to tear that boundary to fucking shreds and keep her. I’ll set fire to it and everyone who stands in my way.

I love Olivia, but I’m not sure it’s the same way I grew up loving her anymore. It’s stronger, violent, and I have a feeling if she ordered me to get on my knees and kiss her fucking feet, I’d do it. Anything she asked, I’d do.

Fuck. I’m so screwed. Dad is definitely going to kill me because I can’t feel this way about my own damn sister.

“I need to tell you something,” she says quietly.

What?

“Do you remember a while ago Mom was talking about the tradition of arranged marriages that run in our family?”

My teeth crush together as I think about the first time I was told Olivia would be paired up with someone and taken away from me. Yes, I fucking remember. How could I forget one of the worst things I’ve ever heard in my life?

“Well, it’s already started.”

I frown and look down at her, waiting for her to elaborate on what the fuck she means by that. She’s too young, too fucking innocent to get thrown into that life.

“Um…” She hesitates then buries her head into my chest, muffling her voice. “Mom is arranging dates already.”

My entire body seizes, and I pause stroking her hair.

“The first date is this weekend. Me and Mom are going over to his house to talk with his parents. He’s a little older than me and really wants to meet me.”

This is ridiculous. She’s only sixteen.

Gracing her with any response would result in an argument. I’d tell her no, she’d tell me to fuck off, and then we’d give each other the silent treatment for an entire day before one of us snuck into the other’s room.

“I hope he’s nice though. Imagine he’s mean? I’d need to send my big brother to kick his ass.” She’s giggling, but I’m still, silent as always, and I think I might pass out from rage.

I’m imagining him in a body bag.

Bloodied.

Ripped to shreds.

Diced and minced and pulverized.

No longer in existence.

No one will ever be good enough for Olivia.

“I’ve to stay a virgin until the wedding night. Not that I’m sleeping around at this age.” Olivia lifts her head to look at me. “Are you a virgin?”

My brows knit together at her question. I am—the idea of sex has never been something I sought out. Yeah, I’ve jacked off while trying to watch porn, but I never thought of actually going out and fucking someone the way my friends all do. They do try to get me to screw someone, but I always end up leaving the party early and sober, or I get so drunk and unable to even see properly that I stagger home to my sister. She looks after me—a glass of water, a sick bucket, a cold cloth on my head, and she hugs me until I lose consciousness.

She clamps her mouth shut with a disappointed look on her face when she realizes she’s getting no response from me. “Sorry. That was inappropriate.”

I slide my hand from her hair. Do you want to get married?

She shrugs. “Mom has been preparing me for this since I was a kid. She was even excited when I got my period because it gives the arrangement a better value.”

I gulp and start to form a plan of kidnapping Olivia away from this life.

“Uhh.” She face-palms. “I’m sorry. I’m going to make you vomit everywhere. Sorry.”

Don’t apologize, I sign. You can talk to me about anything and I’ll never be weirded out.

I’m furious right now. I might kill our parents and make it look like an accident. I could set the house on fire, trap them both in my dad’s office, and be Olivia’s shoulder to cry on before I inevitably somehow make her fall in love with me.

Fuck. I just said that.

I can’t take my thoughts back now—I want my sister, and I want her badly. I don’t know how I’ll manage it, but Olivia and I are going to be each other’s firsts in everything. Not yet, but in a few years when we’re old enough and fully understand how it all works.

When Olivia’s ready, then I will be too.

My mind needs to slow down. She might actually see me as her brother, and the thought of even kissing me in a passionate way might repulse her.

Unless I pretend to be someone else? Hide my face?

No, that defeats the purpose.

Fuck.

She isn’t getting married to anyone but me. I’ll speak to our parents. I’m sure they’d prefer she was with someone they trusted and not some older prick.

I heavily breathe out my nose and pull back, taking her hand and gesturing to the running trail that takes us home. She squeezes my hand before she lets go, reconnects her ear-bleeding music, and we run back to get ready for school.

Mom and Dad are in my father’s office when we get home from school. Olivia goes to her room to get changed because she’s going to her friend’s house to do some routine practice.

I’m trying to go over everything I need to communicate with our parents without her knowing my plan. Or that I’m having a mental breakdown and that my knuckles are still sore from beating the shit out of someone in the locker room.

He told me that if I vocally begged, he wouldn’t try to fuck my sister and record it, so I fucked his head off the bench and gave him a black eye.

Dad will know about it by now, but he’s long given up trying to discipline me. He’ll warn me, try to force me back into therapy, then give a spiel of how I’m making the house unsafe for future fosters. Blah, blah, fucking blah.

I’m sticking up for myself and my sister—I’m not just going out and choosing someone as my next target, but no one understands that. I was labeled an issue, a problem child, the son with a suitcase full of trauma, so it would’ve been a miracle if I was normal.

When I reach the office, I can hear them. Dad is giving Mom a hard time about Olivia’s age and how she’s borderline grooming his daughter.

Fuck. Deep breaths.

I knock on the office door, and their whispering comes to a halt.

“Come in,” my dad calls out.

I open the door and step into his office, both their eyes on me and filled with confusion. I never do this. Never seek them out. I don’t go to them for a single thing or communicate unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Not for any particular reason—I just like reserving all my conversation for a certain someone. I know they’d rather step on Legos than talk anyway. Not even my friends get much out of me. One of them knows sign language, and that’s enough for him to translate to the group.

Honestly, I’m still unsure why they’re friends with me. They only welcomed me into their little group after I started beating up people who messed with Olivia.

“Malachi?”

I blink, realizing I’ve frozen on the spot and my parents are staring at me like I have two heads.

I mean, I do.

“Is there something wrong?” Mom asks.

Olivia isn’t marrying anyone, I sign, closing the door behind me and getting straight to the point. She’s too young.

Mom scoffs. “Get out, Malachi. Don’t you have to study for your test next week?”

I step forward. Why does she need to get married?

“Tradition, son,” Dad says. “You know this.”

Fuck the tradition.

Dad rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is of no concern to you. We’ll replace a suitor who we can trust, and when she’s old enough, she’ll marry him. This has been in the family for generations.”

Even as the words fall from my father’s lips, I know he hates them. Regret is all over his face as Mom tries to conceal her smile. They’ve been arguing nonstop about this. He refuses, yet she wins every time they have a debate.

You can trust me, I sign, not a single nerve going haywire as I keep my confidence. I’ll marry her. Stepping further into the room, desperate for them to listen, I keep going. She’ll be safe with me. I promise. You can remove me from adoption, and I’ll wait until we’re both old enough.

I’m about to turn eighteen—she’s just turned sixteen. They can’t say no because I’m the only person in the world who can protect Olivia.

Why are they just staring at me? They look… disgusted. Disappointed. Because I straight up offered that they could remove me from the family maybe?

You don’t need to look for someone. I’ll do it.

Dad laughs. “Very funny.”

I stare at him for a long second then look at Mom. Why can’t I do it?

“You’re serious?” she asks with a revolted look. “That’s vile. That’s—”

“Not happening,” Dad finishes sternly. “But I agree that she’s too young.” He looks at Mom. “Give her a few years to replace her own partner.”

“I already have suitors lined up. One I’m especially interested in is your business partner’s son. Parker Melrose.”

“Absolutely not. He’s twenty-one, Jennifer.”

Oh, hells fucking no. Olivia left that piece of information out. Why the fuck is Mom trying to partner her up with someone five years older?

Despite the dire need to trash the place to get across how angry I am, desperation seeps into my vein. Let me marry her.

Mom glares at me. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re her brother. She needs someone who comes from money. She needs someone stable who can give her children.”

I will, I sign slowly. I can do that, Mom.

Her face contorts, but it’s Dad who grabs my shirt and yanks me forward, dragging me to the chair. I want to break his fucking hand, but I need them to agree. There’s not a chance in hell I’m letting them push Olivia into the arms of a grown-ass man when I’m the perfect suitor for her.

He shoves me down on the chair and steps away, trying to control his rage. “This fascination you have with Olivia needs to stop, Malachi. It’s wrong and sick, and I won’t stand for it any longer. You’re her brother. Start acting like it.”

Mom crosses her arms, shaking her head. “We talked about this before when we moved you to another room. Your father has been warning you off her since you were a child. We thought it was a friendship thing and you just needed her to help you… ground yourself. We were worried you’d drag her down with you. But now you’re suggesting incest? How sick are you?”

Grinding my teeth, I don’t bother responding. It isn’t incest. We aren’t related by blood. We have different backgrounds. We were just two kids adopted by the same family. I’d happily give up a mother and a father to have even a day of calling Olivia mine.

Remove me from the adoption, I sign. I’ll marry her when we’re old enough. Then I pause, needing to swallow given how fucking much I need them to agree to this. She’ll feel safe with me. I’ll protect her. Please.

I’m repeating myself out of desperation, but I don’t care. If they don’t let me do this, I’ll end up in jail or something for murdering any asshole who comes anywhere near Olivia.

This is probably the most I’ve ever conversed with my parents since I was a kid—I’m not even sure they realize.

Huffing, Mom crosses her arms and paces to the window. “When you got your diagnosis, we agreed that we’d keep things the way they’ve always been since adopting you. But if you’re looking at your own sister and thinking about—” She stops and spins to glare at me, grimacing. “You can’t be attracted to her, Malachi. It’s not right.”

I’m not attracted to her, I lie. I want to keep her safe from you.

She barks a laugh. “Unbelievable.”

“This conversation is done. Olivia is sixteen. She’s too young to even discuss this.” Dad turns to his desk while shaking his head. “Give up on this idea of marrying our daughter off to the Melroses. The family may be rich, but the son won’t remain faithful, and he’s a spoiled little prick. We’ll revisit this when she’s finished school and mature enough. And you.” He looks at me. “Stay away from your sister. You’ve already been warned. I do believe that this is you needing to protect her, but it’s gone too far. You will go out with your friends, live your life, go on dates, party, until you’re ready to work with me. That is all you’ll be doing for this family.”

He’d look better dead. So would Mom. I’ll carve their bodies and stack their limbs into a suitcase before setting it on fire.

“Get out, the both of you.”

Mom huffs dramatically and storms out, but I stay put. He sighs when he sees I haven’t moved a muscle. I’ll fight for this. I’ll give up a family, a future he’d hand to me, every single thing the Vize family offers me as their son.

“You have my word that I won’t marry her off at this age, and I respect that you want to protect her, but you need to stay in your lane.” He rubs his face. “Tell me the truth. Between us. How do you see Olivia?”

I want to tell him so badly about how I really feel. Maybe I am sick and he can help me, or maybe he’ll throw me out and I’ll never see her again. I gulp, averting my eyes before signing the biggest lie I’ll ever tell.

She’s my little sister. That’s all.

“Protect her,” he says. “Be her big brother and keep her safe, but that’s all. You can’t and won’t marry her. You’re nearly eighteen—surely you know that’s off the table?”

I look at the rug at my feet. My hands are fisting so tightly, my blunt nails are cutting into my palms.

“Look at me, son,” he demands.

My gaze lifts, and my chest tightens at the way he’s looking at me.

“We’re both going to lose Olivia, so we need to just enjoy her presence while we can. Now, get the hell out of my office and never suggest that again.”

I know, I just fucking know, whatever relationship we had as father and son is gone. He doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t think I’m safe enough for his daughter. I’m not good enough either. Unstable. Unreliable. And one word I’ve heard them using when they didn’t know I could hear—broken.

I’m just the broken and deluded big brother trying to marry the fucking sister he has an unhealthy crush on.

I slam the door on my way out, ripping my cap off and running my hand through my hair as I head to my bedroom. I get to the top of the grand staircase when I hear something crash in Olivia’s room.

When I reach her door, I open it slightly to see her rummaging through all of her things. She’s in her cheerleading outfit, and I know from her naked lips, she’s looking for the lip gloss that’s in my pocket. I didn’t technically steal it, but I like how it smells on her when she accidentally falls asleep beside me during movies, so sometimes, I take the little bottle and sniff it when Olivia isn’t near.

Nothing like the addiction the scent of her hair sparks, but close.

I don’t make myself known as she slams her vanity drawer and looks under her bed—she’s on all fours, ass in the air, and I battle with myself to focus on the mess she’s made of her room and not how exposed she is under her cheer skirt.

Pulling the lip gloss from my pocket, I knock on the door, and she straightens and turns to me. Her hair whips, and my heart races instantly.

Beautiful.

The more I look at her, the more I realize how doomed I am. I’ve never had any luck—but she’s the rainbow I’ll fucking chase to win something more important than my own life.

I want to kiss her. I want to know what the lip gloss feels like on her lips, to taste it, to make sure no one else in the world gets to know the feeling.

Shit. Why is it getting worse? The need for her.

Mom’s right. It’s wrong, but nothing has ever felt more right than when I’m around her.

Her eyes light up even though she’s frowning. “Why do you have that? Did I leave it in the kitchen again?”

I nod, stepping in and closing the door.

The buzzing of my phone pulls my attention away from the movie I’m watching. I’m half-asleep, my hair still wet from the shower, the towel around my waist.

I don’t even need to reply—I know what she wants. Olivia has nightmares sometimes, and when they happen, she needs me. She’ll always need me to push her demons away.

I get dressed and pull on my hoodie, then pause and pull it back off, keeping it in my hand as I climb over my balcony, crossing the ledge until I reach her unlocked window. I slide it open and jump in, stopping when I see Olivia sitting up in bed, visibly shaken.

Must’ve been a really bad nightmare this time.

She pulls her duvet aside and takes the hoodie after I drop it in her lap. But when I notice how red her eyes are, I frown.

What’s wrong? I sign. Have you been crying?

She shakes her head and lies back down, and when I lower myself beside her, she pushes her back to my front and wraps my arm around her, lacing her fingers and holding our hands to the side of her cheek. It’s wet from tears, and I feel another slide down against my skin.

Instead of pushing her to tell me what happened in the dream, I hold her tightly to me and inhale the sweet scent of strawberries.

“My tummy hurts,” she says quietly. She’s holding her stomach with her other hand, curling in on herself, her body shaking with soft sobs. “It hurts so much.”

I unravel myself from her after a few minutes, heading into the bathroom to pour her a glass of water from the sink. I stop when I see the underwear and pants discarded on the floor next to the toilet.

Blood. Not too much of it, but it’s there.

I stuff them into her laundry basket, not wanting her to feel embarrassed about her period. The gel packs she uses for her cramps aren’t under the sink, so I sign to her that I’ll be back in a minute and head to the kitchen.

I’ll do anything to make her feel better—when she was younger, her stomach would get sore and she’d cry from eating too much candy, and I’d cuddle her to sleep—I hate it when she’s like this.

When she first got her period, she came to me, crying again, and said the pains were everywhere. After a quick internet search on home remedies, I ran her a warm bath, heated up soup Mom had made for us earlier that day, and we lay in bed for two days until she felt better.

We both have school tomorrow or we’d do it all over again.

I stop as soon as I walk in, seeing Mom at the breakfast bar, her head down, drinking straight from the bottle of wine. A box of tissues sits to the side, some scrunched up and stained with mascara-tinted tears.

I should ask her if she’s okay, but I don’t. I walk in, heat up two of the gel packs, then grab some Tylenol and a bag of chips.

Mom lifts her head to look at me, her eyes dropping to the stuff in my hands. Her lips flatten, then her head lowers again as her shoulders shake.

Dad storms in, ignoring me, and stops in front of the breakfast bar. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? We agreed to wait until Olivia was eighteen to meet Parker!”

Mom scoffs. “Calm down, Jamieson. He wanted to see her in person before agreeing to anything. They got on fine.”

My eyes narrow. There’s a stab of pain in my chest knowing she met the potential love of her life tonight.

“You had no right. Olivia is just as much my daughter as she is yours. You had no right to flaunt her to the Melrose family.”

Mom glares. “Are you done?”

His gaze snaps to me then drops to the stuff in my arms. Just when I think he’s going to give me a speech about staying away from Olivia, he fists his hands and storms out of the kitchen, his office door slamming in the distance.

Olivia is still awake and crying when I reach the room.

Her little whimpers are broken, but she sits up and takes the pills, drinks the water, and smiles weakly as I press a gel pack to her stomach for her to hold there. I climb in behind her again and put the other gel pack at the bottom of her back, holding it there with my own body pressing to hers.

After a minute, she whispers, “Thank you.”

I nod against her hair, my eyes closing, hoping the pain meds start to work soon. Her low sobs start to settle, then she turns in my arms and kisses my cheek. “You’re the best brother I could’ve ever asked for. I’m glad they adopted us both. You’re my best friend too.”

I stare at her for a beat, then the corner of my mouth curves even though I want to kiss her tears away and tell her I no longer want to be her brother, that I’d take every suitor’s place if she’d accept me. Mom and Dad will allow it if she says yes. They can’t deny both of us what we want.

She turns back around, adjusts the packs, then sighs.

Before I fall asleep, I hear her say, “Parker isn’t nice at all.”