White Lies (A Twisted Fate 1)

Shaking his head, he said, “Poor Mitchell’s ass.”

“He looks like he’s about to

get lucky. His ass may not mind.”

We chuckled. “Better him than me.” Carson shuddered with a blech face and then put the car in drive.

“How was the boat?”

We turned down a nice little street that looked like it was out of a magazine with the white picket fences and pristine yards. “Good. I got some waterskiing in. Caught up with the guys. It was nice. They’re going on a trip together to the mountains later this summer. I think I’m going to go, too. We’ll see.”

People milled about as we drove through the center of town. “Hopefully you can. You know I think you work too much.”

“I’ll make time to go. Promise.”

My phone chirped. The burner one was on silent. I knew I missed a text message on it, but nerves kept me from looking at it right away. We had shared a lot with each other as if we’d unknowingly taken things to another level between us. Now I wanted to share things with Tack.

“What’s got your mind thinking so hard?” I looked over at Carson. “You had a smile one minute, and now your brows are all pinched together.”

For a moment, I thought about telling Carson about Tack, but I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of questions. Hell, I wasn’t sure I knew how to answer yet. The headache from drinking made its presence known again. Never again. “My head still hurts from the hangover.” I wanted to change the subject before Carson realized there was more to the story. “How did you find this Trent guy?”

“Actually, your dad introduced us a little over a year ago, I think at an art show. You were overseas for a school trip. We got to talking, and I offered to look at his business plan. Turns out he was pretty damn good at security.”

Dad had always tried to help people whenever possible. Especially ones where he saw potential. I loved the legacy he left. It helped feel more at ease with Trent, knowing Dad had given his approval. Giving someone power over your security was not an easy decision.

Carson’s phone rang and mine vibrated with a text from Eva. I wasn’t expecting to hear from her until early next week.

Eva: How does two weekends from now work for the show? I had an unexpected cancellation. I think there will be a lot of interest once I start circulating information, if the date works for you.

Excited butterflies danced in my stomach now that my first solo show was going to be only two weeks away.

“Eva wants to do my art show in two weeks. For solo shows, it normally takes six months to pull together.”

Carson made a right. “That’s amazing, Willow. I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Nonno would be so excited. He knew it had always been a dream of mine. Until we had a date, I had wanted to keep it low key just in case something fell through. The last thing I wanted was to give them something else to feel bad about for me.

Quickly, I typed out.

Me: That works perfect. Can’t wait!

Eva: Wonderful! I’ll e-mail you the details. I’ll have a few press junkets prepared. I may need you early for an interview or two.

Me: Just let me know and I’ll be there.

“All set. I’m nervous.” I turned in my seat unable to contain the excitement. “Carson, it’s just unbelievable. My own show.” I squealed. “My own show!”

He beamed. “It’s going to be fantastic! My parents will be there, too, once you give me the go ahead to tell them.”

“After we meet with Trent, I’ll call Nonno. Then, we can let them know.”

“Perfect.” Carson’s phone dinged again. It had been overactive today. He read a message and sighed before putting his phone down. “I’m going to have to travel this next week to Florence. Do you want to cash in your trip to Italy now for being my wingman?”

I loved Italy. Our parents insisted Carson and I learn Italian when we were younger. We spent many family vacations over there as kids. Thinking about the memories filled me with a little trepidation since I hadn’t been back since Dad died. Italy had been our special place.

It was time to go back. I knew the time had come to take this step. However, I wasn’t ready to stay at our home there. Carson waited for me to answer, probably knowing my internal debate. “I think Italy sounds good. I’m not ready to stay at the estate there, though.”

“We’ll stay at the hotel. It’ll be fun to have a friend there. You’ll be able to meet Francesca.”

I pointed my finger at him. “Okay, spill. How long have you been dating this girl?”

“On and off for a little over two months. It wasn’t that serious in the beginning. On this last trip, it got more serious, I think.”

Why hadn’t Carson mentioned her to me? We told each other almost everything.

“You think?”

We turned into a parking lot and parked. He shut off the car and looked at me with wide eyes. “It scares the fuck out of me. It’s the only reason I haven’t said something sooner.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I really like her.”

My best friend was falling for a girl. I put my hand on his. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

He nodded his head, a little nervous. “Yeah, it makes it more real. I think I avoided bringing her up because I was in denial.”

The words he spoke hit home about my situation. I understood. I hadn’t asked if Carson was seeing someone. If I had, I knew he would have told me. “Carson, seriously, don’t think twice about not telling me. I understand.”

I wanted to add more, but stopped. This was not the time, nor was I ready, to discuss Tack.

Leaning over the console, I gave Carson a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you. Does she live in Florence?”

He sat back, obviously relieved to be talking about her. “No, on a vineyard outside of town. We met while I was there trying to talk her dad into letting me buy their wine for the hotels. Remember those bottles I brought back with me a couple of months ago?” I nodded. “That was the trip. Anyway, things progressed, and so far it’s been great.”

I wagged my eyebrows. “It was the cologne.”

A vibrant chortle filled the car. “Best damn cologne. I think I owe you another spa day for bringing that back for me from Paris.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

Laughing, we got out of the vehicle and made our way to a mostly-deserted restaurant. The quietness within the restaurant lot reminded me of being in a library. After speaking with the hostess, she led us in to a private dining area where a man who I assumed to be Trent waited. Standing, he greeted me. He was a lean, muscular man who looked ex-military with his crew cut.

He gave me a friendly nod and shook my hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Russo.”

I momentarily paused at his accent. It was exactly like Tack’s. Odd. But, the voice seemed to be a tad different. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

He cleared his throat. “Your father was an extraordinary man. I owe him more than I could ever articulate.”

The way he spoke of Dad seemed to imply more than a passing relationship. Odd. Twice in a matter of a minute, Trent gave me pause. Carson watched Trent with a cocked head, too, no doubt having picked up on the same thing. I decided to go with something nonchalant while I tried to figure more out. “Dad was a wonderful man.”

Trent gestured to the table, and we sat on the opposite side. “He talked about you often,” Trent added.

Say what? A sense of familiarity came over me. It was hard to explain. It felt like constant déjà vu.

I cleared my throat. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t recall Dad mentioning you.”

Trent wasn’t surprised at my statement, which brought me further unease. “I know.” He let out a breath. “I’m a little nervous about meeting you. Your dad was like a second father. I knew him for a couple of years.”

Couple of years? I mean, I knew I probably had no idea all the people Dad knew, but with the fondness Trent spoke about Dad, they’d been close. More than acquaintances. Carson watched him with calculating eyes as h

e said, “You never mentioned knowing Alfonso this well. I thought you guys met a year ago, right before we did?”

Trent shook his head. “This isn’t going how I imagined it would. As Carson knows, I met Alfonso at an art event where I worked security. The timetable is a little off. We talked. What Carson doesn’t know is he funded the startup of my company. I owe him a great deal.”

I glanced at Carson, silently asking if he knew Dad had given Trent the money. He shook his head. This was all a surprise to Carson as well.

Dad was always kind and compassionate. He had a knack for seeing a person’s true colors and helped in any way he could. It was one of the ways he made his money in addition to his art. That told me a lot about Trent—if Dad helped him that way. Carson took this in as much as I did.

“Why did Dad never mention you?”

Earlier, Trent had only confirmed I’d had no clue about him. “It just never happened. You were busy with school and I was busy starting up my company.”

I was done with riddles, and I motioned for Carson to stand with me. Trent stood, too, about to speak. I raised my hand, stopping him. “I’m sorry, Trent, but this was a mistake.”

He slid a letter to me from his back pocket. “This is from your dad. A letter to you.”

“What?”

Never in my dreams did I imagine the conversation turning this way. I was stunned. The envelope had my name written in his perfect penmanship. I’d recognize it anywhere. I reached for the envelope. My eyes stung seeing his writing. A piece of my Dad resided in there.

I held the envelope close to me. Under no circumstances did I want to do this in front of Trent. “I’m going to read this in the car.”

Trent remained calm, but an imploring look from his vibrant green eyes begged me to come back. “Of course. I’ll be here if you want to give me a chance after reading the letter. I want to help you, Willow.”

Without a word, I took the envelope and walked out the front. Carson silently followed. Not a word was spoken until we were in the car and the doors shut. “Willow, I had no idea.”