The Tyrant's Wife

Chapter 3 - Too Many Liars

The next evening.

The phone on the nightstand vibrated.

Desmond groaned and turned to his side on the bed, ignoring the call. It rang again incessantly, making him want to hurl curses at the caller. He raised his head in annoyance and saw the name "Liam" on his screen, making his brows furrow. Why was he disappointed?

"What do you want?" He asked impatiently, a hand on his waist.

"Yo, did you have explosives for dinner? Last I checked, you only had business deals for dinner, though." The caller taunted with loud music booming in his background.

Desmond's eyebrows scrunched into a frown. "You have ten seconds." He said impatiently.

"Urgh… don't be a bore…" Liam groaned. But he had known Desmond long enough. The latter would hang up if he didn't speak up within the given time, so he said, "Come over to Singles Bar. We are drinking and having lots of fun. Hugo brought pretty girls from his company too!"

"Not interested." Desmond hung up without saying a word more.

The last time he went to that place, Savannah happened. He swallowed a bitter gulp when he thought about it. The woman was irresistibly beautiful, had a brilliant infectious smile and a pair of eyes that seemed to draw in whoever was looking at them. He didn't care much about women, but he was starting to care about her—a little too much for his own good—then she turned out to be a liar. She lied about everything, including her name.

How did she do it anyway? How could a simple woman have him fooled like a naive young man?

An incoming call interrupted his train of thought, and the annoying Liam Preston was at it again. "Can you at least give a valid reason before hanging up on your friend like that?"

He was about to throw in "I'm tired" as an excuse and hung up again, but his mouth automatically changed that to, "I'll be there in half an hour."

Since he had already blurted that out, he decided he might as well go.

After all, having fun and getting another woman was the fastest way to forget about Savannah… well, Zaria. Or whatever her name was.

…

Singles Bar.

As the top VIP patrons and since they frequented the place, Desmond and his friends had a special VIP room reserved exclusively for them. It offered a first-seat view of the rest of the bar, through an all-round, clear one-way mirror that one could almost not tell existed.

The services offered were top-notch and there was nothing to complain about.

Alas, none of this was enough to keep Desmond entertained tonight.

It had only been twenty minutes since he entered the club and he was already starting to regret his decision.

The blonde woman before him was another damned liar. Her Identity Card read "Irene" even though she had been answering to "Gabriella" since his unreliable friend, Liam, introduced them.

Her fake—probably practiced—smile and shy giggle were a worse turn off than her forced Spanish accent.

Was this some new trend? Someone should tell these fake women that it was not pretty at all if that was what they intended it to be. Especially if they were not good at it. It made one wonder how Liam knew all these fakers.

The worst part of this whole situation was the fact that from time to time, his mind would dart towards directions he should have forgotten already. He involuntarily glanced down at the farthest seat in the bar—the first place he had set his eyes on her.

Her smile was what had captivated him the most. It was genuine, happy, and although she was just sitting there on her own and playing with her phone the whole time, she looked content.

Slowly, his brain transformed the woman on that seat into the woman he now hated with all his blood, and he scoffed in anger. Why the hell was he thinking about her?

It only got worse by the minute. Every woman he looked at turned into Zaria, and he would see her image even if he closed his eyes.

He gulped down a bottle of alcohol in frustration. When he opened his eyes, he could see yet another "Zaria" in his line of sight. He frowned then blinked his eyes, only to realize that it was no longer a case of his mind playing tricks on him.

She was the real Zaria in the flesh—and she was entering the club with another man by her side. Just what games was fate trying to play?