The Lie that Binds us (Broken Truths Book 1) by Isabella Phoenix

Author:Isabella Phoenix [Phoenix, Isabella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2021-08-16T16:00:00+00:00

Ella

Present Day

I’m suddenly yanked into consciousness by a cold shiver, which takes over my body. My teeth ache so much that I wonder how long I’ve been stuck in this frozen state.

As much as I try to open my eyes, they don’t seem to work. They remain shut, which at the moment isn’t a bad thing. I can listen to my surroundings instead, while looking like I’m asleep.

Not that listening gives me much clue as to where I am. A fan whirls lazily overhead, the breeze rustling my hair, and birds chirp outside. I could be anywhere in the world with these sorts of noises.

The pain in my head grips me like a vice, and I have to fight the nausea that overtakes me. I try to breathe through it with slow, measured breaths. When I try to adjust my position, a sharp ache radiates across my shoulders. I try again, moving the other way, but it’s like a dagger is slicing up my back. I hiss in pain. It’s then I feel something hard encircling my wrists.

I’m fucking handcuffed.

Shit. What’s going on? I refuse to let the panic overtake me, though. I lie as still as possible, trying to keep my breathing even, while I attempt to remember what led up to being here. Everything feels so fuzzy.

I’ve experienced this sensation before. With Carrington.

My wedding to Matt. We had the best day. I’d gone up to the room to surprise him after the reception, and then…

And then.

Matt came in and treated me to the most mind-blowing orgasm.

Only, it wasn’t my husband who came to see me, was it?

No. It was him.

Someone who I had hoped would stay in my past. It was his fingers which caressed me, made me cry out for him—even though I thought it was Matt.

I suck in a sharp breath, trying not to heave, but the shame and rage rush up, coating my tongue with acidity.

Another man touched me on my wedding night.

A small whimper escapes, low and pitiful, as I try once again to open my eyes and get a glimpse of where I am. But they’re still too heavy. Panic claws its way up my throat. The deep breathing fails to do the job of calming me down.

I shuffle awkwardly on the bed, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, but it’s no use. My legs are also tied together at the ankles—like I’ve been hogtied—so I end up flopping on my side, crushing an arm beneath me. The fan flutters over my skin, and something bunches up around my waist, but I can’t tell if it’s clothing or part of the bed.

How the fuck am I going to explain this to my new husband? Will he even forgive me?

Is my new life over before it had a chance to begin?

Finally, finally, my eyes work enough to crack open. I'm assaulted by the sunlight streaming in through cream shutter blinds. I almost wish that they were still closed when the light sends another shard of pain slicing through my skull.

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