Title: The Lies of Bryn van Doren
Author: R.C. Martin
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Day: February 2, 2021
In the heart of Lower Manhattan, amid a maze of dark decadence, is one of New York City’s best kept secrets. Among the highest of Wall Street’s elite–Khalohn Morgan is in on it. Reputed as a generous lover, coveted by all the women of Clandestine’s, he’s often satisfied.
Jessica Chapman knows she’s nothing more than a girl from Brooklyn who works hard and loves deep. When her ailing mother struggles to make ends meet, she doesn’t think twice before stepping in to help. As bad goes to worse, her determination to do anything for the woman who raised her is put to the test.
It’s desperation that leads her into the bowels of Clandestine’s. The world of secrets beckons her to slip into the persona of Bryn van Doren. But it’s him who leaves her tangled in a bed of lies.
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It’s ten minutes after the top of the hour when Atzel pulls up to the curb in front of The Critic—located on the banks of Hell’s Kitchen. The high-end club is one Khalohn has been able to tolerate in the past, all the while certain what he seeks for his own personal endeavors won’t be found within the establishment. It is a setting by which a compromise is often found on nights like this one. It’s no secret to either of them how much Porter enjoys playing the game.
While Khalohn finds it almost as painful to watch the hunt as it is to participate himself, The Critic is worth his time for more than one reason. Not only is it a place Porter likes to frequent, but it’s also a space in which a number of notable, wealthy New Yorkers find themselves on occasion—their VIP status an actuality which must be seen to be accepted. Much as he wishes he could deny it, rubbing shoulders with the right crowd never hurt his reputation as a businessman not to be forgotten. And when schmoozing with the elite gets to be too much, The Critic serves a scotch smooth enough to make the trip worth his while.
Atzel opens Khalohn’s door, and he’s quick to step out and onto the curb. Glancing at the line of people who wish to get into the nightclub causes him to remember how much he despises being surrounded by women the likes of which he’s encountered far too many times. He sees it, even now, as a couple women eye him from head to toe. Flattering as one might think their attentions are, all they see are his details. The cut of his tailored Gucci suit, the shine of his Tom Ford oxford shoes, and the face of his Montblanc timepiece. In their eyes, he isn’t a man so much as he’s a bank account—and this is not a notion which has ever brought him pride.
As he looks away from them, he pulls his phone from his pocket. After a couple of hours in the club, an indulgence of his own will be warranted. Ironic as it might seem, the extravagant amount of money he invests in his frequent rendezvous doesn’t cause him to see those women in the same light in which he views the ones in the crowd. When he walks into that room, he is not a bank account, but a man intent on doling out pleasure as he seeks his own. His reputation precedes him in more than one arena—underground, the generosity they speak of holds no monetary value.