The Liar

The Liar Alexandra Silva Cover Design by LJ Designs Editing by One Love Editing Proofreading by Sisters Get Literary & Gem’s Precise Reads Formatting by Alexandra Silva Copyright © 2023 by Alexandra Silva All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Contents 1. Ava 2. Ava 3. Ava 4. Ava 5. Damon 6. Damon 7. Damon 8. Ava 9. Ava 10. Damon 11. Ava 12. Ava 13. Ava 14. Ava 15. Ava 16. Damon 17. Ava 18. Ava 19. Ava 20. Damon 21. Damon 22. Ava 23. Damon 24. Ava 25. Ava 26. Ava 27. Damon 28. Ava 29. Damon Epilogue Epilogue The Matchmaker Prologue Also by Alexandra Silva About Alexandra Silva Chapter 1 Ava The bar is buzzing. The dimness is sliced through with colored rays of light that punctuate the fast-paced beat of the music. Pinnacle is one of the most popular bars with the affluent Manhattanites. “I still can’t believe you’re going rogue. Are you sure you want to walk out on your dad?” Lacie asks, looking around the bar for any of her clients. She likes to keep a close eye on them during the season. Who knew ballers were such hard-core partiers? “He didn’t give me much choice.” There’s conflict in her eyes when she focuses on me again and says, “I know you wanted that promotion, but going to his competitor seems extreme.” Taking a sip of her old-fashioned, she pins me with the kind of sorry smile that makes me certain I’m making the best decision for me. “Dad picked Marsh over me. He picked my fiancé over me—his daughter. His flesh and blood.” “It sucks, I know, babe. And believe me, I’m so fucking mad for you, but it all feels like a lot right now. Too much, maybe?” When I shake my head, Lacie reminds me, “You’re walking away from Monroe Pub and Marsh…” The espresso martini I’m sucking down burns a little more with the anger blazing in the pit of my stomach. “I’m not walking away from Monroe. I am a Monroe—it’s impossible to walk away from my name. I have a plan, and in the end, I’ll be sitting right where I should be…heading my family’s company.” “And Marsh?” “Marsh can go to hell. He should never have accepted that promotion. He knew what it meant to me. Scratch that, what it means. And he still took it.” “Bastard.” “Yeah, the asshole can rot when I’m done. He betrayed me.” Raising her hand at one of the waiters, she indicates for him to bring us another round of drinks. “Is CPM going to make you happy again?” I think of my new job at Coldwell Press & Media, and I smile. “Yes, it’s going to make me happier because in spite of all this, I am happy.” A dubious frown pulls at her brows. “Really?” “I’m so glad Marsh showed me his true colors,” I tell her as I glance at my naked ring finger wrapped around my martini glass. “I’m never going to be the arm candy wife hidden in the shadows of her husband’s success. Quietly popping out his babies to pass time. That’s not me. I want more…need more.” A grin pulls at one side of her face as she raises her glass. “Here, here!” “Silver linings, Lace,” I toast with her. “Marsh can sit in the fancy office, but it’s my name on the walls, and when I return, he’s going to wish he never betrayed me.” The waiter returns with our drinks, placing them on the table between Lacie and me. His shirt has a few more buttons loose than before, so that his washboard abs are on show. Damn, he’s hot. The kind of hot that’s pleasant to look at but that invariably makes you feel self-conscious. “Thanks,” Lacie croons at the besotted guy, batting her golden eyes while she brushes through her copper curls. “Can I get you anything else?” “No, this will be all…for now.” Lacie tacks on the latter with a flirtatious wink that causes me to giggle as the waiter walks away. “My God, you’re evil getting his hopes up like that.” “But it’s so much fun,” she laughs, holding up her drink. “Here’s to kicking ass and getting laid.” “Getting laid?” I almost spit my martini. “Please…” It’s only been a few weeks since I threw my thirty-three-carat engagement ring at my fiancé’s smug face, and even if he is an asshole, I haven’t thought about moving on. “Babe, this is the best time to get out there and make the most out of life. You’re twenty-nine, Ava, have some fun. Fuck and live a little.” “Fuck and live a little?” “Cheers to that!” Lacie touches her glass to mine and without ceremony finishes her drink. We chat about everything and nothing while she keeps a lookout. The waiter comes back a few times with fresh drinks. We’re finishing up the last round when her phone starts going crazy. “I’ll go get another round,” I tell her as she answers it. “I won’t be long.” “It’s okay,” I assure her while I readjust my dress. It’s a pointless task because as I stand, the low back cowls lower, and I feel the AC flutter the golden ivory silk over my ass. It’s one of Lacie’s good-time dresses—the ones she wears after a breakup and she wants to forget the asshole. Shouldering my miniature Chanel purse, I head for the bar, trying not to flash my goods. This dress is indecently short and barely covers my boobs. “Don’t forget the shooters,” she calls behind me. Pulling up to the bar behind a group of women, I check my own phone. There’s nothing. No surprise given I’ve upset my family. It’s the only