Little Lies Elena Reyes (book recommendations based on other books .TXT) 📖

as I lock my front door a few days later. I’ve been holed up inside my studio for seventy-two hours since getting back from the dictionary equivalent of a perfect date. That amazing day where Theodore blew my mind throughout, always so attentive—making sure I had everything at my disposal to brainstorm my next line of paintings for his gallery.

Moreover, I’ve also been busy getting the base coat done for each. They’ll fall within the same scheme: dark with a gradient effect that will end with the darkest shade at the bottom and that new tone I’d found at the craft store, creating a halo effect.

So far, they’re perfect after the initial trials—a few pieces that looked horrendously lifeless no matter which way I attempted to add some vibrancy through shades of dark blues and purples. My mind wasn’t in the right place that first night back, still dealing with the insanity my life has become, and it took a binge-watching session of old-school cartoons to clear my head.

Now, the hint of luminescence coming through within the darkened room and strategic lighting I’ve mock-placed for that purpose jump out of the canvas, depicting a jungle-inspired night with stars on the horizon in the shape of my favorite astrology signs. They’ve kept me occupied, consumed, and I’ve ignored the outside world for my work

Not a first for me, not by a longshot, but Elise seems very angry by this. Where was she when everything happened and my panic attack right after? But more importantly, how did she know where to find us when I was discharged?

My so-called best friend was nowhere to be found after our last conversation, and it’s been almost two weeks since then. That time when she accused me of being cheap, a bit pathetic, and demeaned me for still being a virgin. Funny, how is someone with their hymen intact a whore?

“That coming from someone who didn’t have the decency to call and ask how their friend is coping? Not so much as a text either after once again embarrassing me in front of Theodore.” Pocketing the keys, I adjust my messenger bag and turn to face someone I thought of as a friend for so long. As my family. “Or how about the lack of apology after insulting and belittling me? Or trying to enter my home without permission?”

“What happened at Theodore’s?” she asks instead again—same as last time—ignoring my claims while inspecting her broken acrylic nail. She doesn’t know about our date. I’m also not going to share. “What did you do there?”

“Why are you here?” I counter with just as much iciness, taking in how messy she looks. This isn’t the woman I know. The same one that dresses to the nines at all times of the day and throws shade at anyone who doesn’t follow her fashion-forward protocols. “And don’t lie, or add in fake concern for me. That ship has sailed.”

Her hand clenches, and the smile on her face is sardonic. “Going against me is a grave error, Gabby.”

“No. That was not seeing you for what you truly are.” Her face pales at that, eyes widening a bit as they meet my own for the first time. Such a weird reaction to a statement about hypocrisy. “You lied to me, Elise, over and over again, and I’m done.” Prove to me that I’m wrong and you aren’t the kind of person you’re behaving like.

“I made you who you are.” At this, I scoff, bored with this conversation. It’s taken me some self-reflection, but I’ve come to terms with her true feelings—understand those little quirks that for so long I made excuses for. Moreover, those words shred the last little bit of hope I held that she was concerned and nothing else. “The Astor Galleries would’ve never so much as looked at your garbage portfolio without my assistance. You needed me, and I did what needed to be done in order to rise to the top.”

Those words show me her true colors.

Greed. Selfishness. Envy.

It hurts. The betrayal stings, but the fact I’ve been too stupid to see past the I have a friend syndrome embarrasses me. Makes me question who I am to allow this.

“You faked being my friend all this time. Used me.” Swallowing back my emotions, I level her with an indifferent stare. I can see this bothers her. And I also smirk at how easily ruffled she is. How did I not see this before? “What do you get out of all this crap?”

“That’s not your concern, Gabby.” It’s a hiss through clenched teeth, her eyes narrowing. Elise’s posture is meant to intimidate, and yet, I find myself matching her movements. I’m not budging or backing down, much less asking her to forgive me. I’m not going to cower, and when she brings a finger up to my face, I don’t hesitate to grip her wrist in my hand and squeeze tightly. “Let go.”

“What do you gain?”

“Just know that in this game, I’ll always win. I’ve done so many times already.” The woman sounds like a crazy person.

“What does that even mean?”

“Let go.” She steps into my personal space, yet fails to remove her arm from my grip. Instead, the closer she gets, the more I tighten my hold, and I don’t miss the look of surprise that flashes across her face. “You’re pushing your luck today. Last warning.”

“Answer me.”

“It means you’re out of your league, little girl.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Miss Scott,” a male voice says and both our faces turn, finding Tero standing not far from us with both hands in his pockets. He’s dressed for a day at the office, yet no blazer, and the tie is long gone, it seems. “Now, why don’t you share with her the illegal move you tried to accomplish three days ago after seeing that pathetic man who worked as a copyright lawyer.”

“This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, but it does, mulher. Você está fodido.”

Once again, Elise tries to snatch her arm