Truths and Lies Duet Read Online K. Webster, Nikki Ash

Categories Genre: Dark, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: ,

Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Truths and Lies Duet

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

K. Webster, Nikki Ash

Book Information:

From Bestselling Authors K Webster and Nikki Ash comes Truths and Lies: the complete duet—a dark, arranged marriage, Greek mafia romance.

My life was easy, simple, fun. My life was brutal, horrific, ruthless.
Until I got wrapped up with the wrong people. Until a beautiful bride was dragged into my life.
Nothing but a piece of property to pay for the sins of my father. I took her as my prize and made her mine.
I’m to be married off to a handsome monster. Vengeance never tasted so sweet.

I see his truths every day, and it’s hard not to fall for the enemy.
I see her truths every day, and it’s hard not to fall for a woman who makes me weak.
He won’t let me escape, but I’m not sure I want to.
She can try to run, but I have no intention of ever letting her go.
I wanted to marry for love, but it looks like love is a lie.
I wanted to marry for hate, but it looks like hate is a lie.

**Please note: this complete duet includes stories Hidden Truths and Stolen Lies.**
Books by Author:

K. Webster, Nikki Ash


The dark blue waters of Mirabello Bay are calm this evening. Unlike the storm brewing inside me. Where the sea before me shimmers in a serene way beneath the moonlight, the one I hold claim to is raging.


I lift my tumbler to my lips and sip the ouzo, relishing the burn that races down my throat when I swallow. It only adds fuel to the anger flickering inside me, threatening to spread like wildfire. When my wrath has been unleashed, men who wrong me—who shit on the Demetriou name—get burned.

Someone clears their throat. Just once. Quietly. A reminder to move the fuck on.

Yes, Father.

Reluctantly tearing my gaze from the bay, I regard my new guest with cold, barely contained contempt. A skoulíki in our rich, fruitful soil. A man so slimy and dirty, I can barely look at him. He doesn’t belong here, tainting the exquisite room he’s sitting in.

Niles Nikolaides.

Nothing but a filthy worm in dire need of being plucked from the dirt and fed to a fucking bird. Ignoring the piece of shit who’s sitting uncomfortably in a leather armchair, with all eyes on him, I skim my gaze around the room. They’re all waiting for me to make a move, especially Father.

The move I want to make is to grab Niles by the throat and throw him off the goddamn balcony. Too easy. Too fucking easy for a man like him. A man who has been stealing from right under our noses. Allowing passage into Thessaloniki without paying the Demetriou tax.

“You think because we are in Crete we don’t see what it is you’re up to at our port?” I ask, my tone icy and condescending.

Niles clenches his jaw and sits up, shaking his head. His good looks won’t help him in a room full of men who hate him. And while my father has never come out and stated why, I can see pure hatred for Niles flickering in his hazel eyes.

Father leans back on the leather sofa, and a small smirk tugs at his lips. He’s enjoying seeing Niles in the hot seat, the center of my thunderous attention. Beside him, my brother, Aris, grins. While forcing Niles to squirm some more—like the worm he is—as he waits for me to continue, I study my brother.

Aris is so different from Father and me with our dark hair, calculating eyes, and permanent scowls.

Ezio Demetriou and I could pass for brothers rather than father and son. It’s Aris who stands out with his golden skin, light brown hair, and playful brown eyes. He is soft to our hard. Warm to our cold. Weak to our strong. Aris is my mother made over, much to my father’s disappointment.

“Sir,” Niles starts unwisely.

I sear him with a glare. “You are here to listen, fíle.” Friend.

Aris snorts, earning a sharp look from our father. We all know Niles is no friend.

Motioning with a quick flick of my fingers, two of my most trusted men approach from the shadows of the room. They’re dressed in black suits, hiding enough weapons to take out a small army beneath their jackets. Adrian and Basil are the largest men in this room. Imposing, threatening, cruel. All it takes is one nod of my head and they’ll drag Niles, the skoulíki from Thessaloniki, to the kelári for a proper punishment. A punishment extracted with his blood. He must sense the violent storm churning in my eyes because he does what they all do.

Spews more bullshit.

“I can make this right, Kostas,” Niles pleads, eyeing Adrian and Basil warily. “I was in a bad place. Everything is better now. Think of it as a loan.”

Ignoring him, I walk over to the table where the expensive bottle of ouzo sits and refill my glass. I pour two fingers’ worth of the clear liquor into the glass of ice and then splash in some water from a decanter. Like oil trying to mix with water, the ouzo becomes cloudy, but never truly mixes. I give the tumbler a shake before draining the glass and setting it back down.

“Ena macheri,” I demand coolly to Basil, holding out my hand.

Basil pulls a sharp Benchmade Nimravus knife from inside his jacket. At just four and a half inches, it’s small enough to conceal, but long enough to do lethal damage. Niles knows this because he starts shaking his head.

“No, Kostas, listen,” he pleads. “It was all part of my plan. To get into better graces with the Demetriou name.”

I take the knife from Basil and study the pointy tip of the blade. “Explain how you taking our taxes and keeping them for yourself, when it is us who allows the ships passage into the ports, gets you into good graces with us.” I dart my gaze to my brother. “Aris may be the numbers whiz here, but I must say, even I know something isn’t adding up.”