White Lies (A Twisted Fate 1)

I hadn’t spoken to Eva since I got married. I wasn’t even sure if she knew I’d been married. Alex stayed out of the public eye with me. And with all his issues, I’d only told a few close friends about us. It shamed me that I allowed him to control so much of my life.

My own show… it was unbelievable. Astounding. Surreal. Normally, I’d share the showcase with several artists. This was the perfect timing for something positive to happen, giving me a glimpse that hope existed. I was truly achieving my dreams regarding my career.

A hand patted my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Willow. Your dad would be proud, too.”

A lumped formed in my throat. “That means a lot, Carson.”

I often wondered what Dad would think of my life now with all the mistakes I’d made. Mom, too. At least they were together now. Their deaths were sudden, and I was missing so many words of wisdom. Nonno had many for me, but it wasn’t the same.

Carson walked toward the house and called over his shoulder. “We’re leaving in one hour.”

“Where?”

No answer. Half the time, I thought he aggravated me on purpose.

Four hours later, we pulled up the drive of a gorgeous two-story house located on a private beach in Newport, Rhode Island. I wasn’t a fan of flying, especially in small private planes like the one Carson owned. Heights made me nervous. Carson knew this, of course, and drove instead.

The front porch lights were on, and the sun was setting behind the house, creating a cascade of orange and red. “Who owns this place?”

“Potentially me.”

I spun around. “Carson, this is gorgeous.”

We walked around as I took it all in. The place was amazing—definitely Carson’s taste. There were cobblestone paths surrounded by plants. I meandered about as Carson stayed near the car. It was as if I’d entered another place—truly mystical.

Birds chirped in the distance, bringing a smile to my face as I touched a red petal from a rose bush. I plucked it and smelled it, appreciating the beauty.

I emerged back onto the driveway and found Carson leaning against his car, waiting for me.

Looking up, I saw a glass deck that disappeared around the back of the house on the second story. The view must be amazing from up there, creating an artist’s paradise. If Carson bought it, no doubt I would be over here to draw.

“How did you find this place?”

The house was modern with metal trimmings and windows. It was impressively large. I lived on the beach, but this was a dream vacation home. I stepped up onto the front porch to keep looking.

Carson joined me. “I’ve been looking for a place to relax and unwind away from the Hamptons. This came on the market, and they’re holding it for me.”

I quirked a brow. “Holding it for you?”

“Yes, for a price. They’re giving me a few days to make an offer without entertaining any other bids. It’s why they staged it for us to spend a couple of days here. After we leave someone will come to clean.”

Carson had expanded the family business internationally. Whitmore Hotels was a chain of five-star hotels that put all others to shame. With Carson being an only child, he was inheriting a multi-billion dollar business. The plan was in five years his father would step down as CEO. Until then, Carson learned every aspect he could. "Workaholic" was an understatement when it came to him.

Turning, I gave him an incredulous look. “Well, hopefully they’ll put whatever money you put down toward the purchase price. This is amazing. It’ll be good for you to unwind. You work too much.”

The slate entrance led to the massive metal doors. He entered a code, the door clicked open, and we walked inside. Someone had been here to stage the lighting. The interior decorating was phenomenal. It was modern, edgy, and comfortable. As I walked toward the glass windows, I wished I’d brought my paints.

“I brought you a sketch pad in case you get inspired while you’re here. I know I sprung it on you last minute.”

I gave him a quick hug. “You’re the best. I think a change of scenery was just what I needed.”

Thunder rumbled, interrupting the slice of heaven before me. A storm brewed in the distance, dimming the bright colors of the sunset. I loved when the sea was choppy. It was beautiful watching the waves thrash about, creating sprays of color when they crashed into each other. Right now it mirrored me, internally.

“Let me get our stuff. The fridge is stocked. I figured it would be nice to stay in, relax, and roast marshmallows in the fireplace like we did as kids.”

Our parents let us have sleepovers as children. I missed those times. “That sounds heavenly. It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”

“I know. I think we’re overdue.”

“Oh my gosh! These are so good!” I popped another perfectly browned marshmallow into my mouth. The rain beat against the house, which—given the amount of glass—echoed throughout, creating a cozy feel. I loved rain storms.

The air conditioner worked to keep up with the heat from the fire. Pillows and blankets were sprawled beneath us as I put another marshmallow onto my roasting stick. It was late… nearly midnight. We couldn’t stop laughing as we reminisced about our childhood.

Carson’s marshmallow burst into flames, and I snickered. He never had the patience to hold it at a proper distance to get the perfect golden color. Moving his stick rapidly, he tried to extinguish the flame, but that released his marshmallow right into the fire. “Damn it. Such a fucking pain. Why the hell can’t I get this right? I run a fucking empire of hotels and can’t roast a damn marshmallow.”

Whistling, I twirled mine in slow motion, not saying a word. A minute later, perfection was achieved again. I brought the stick toward my mouth when Carson snatched it. “Carson! That’s mine.”

He shoved the marshmallow in his mouth and smiled around it in victory. Smacking his lips together, he nodded his head. “That was good.”

I put down my roasting stick and picked up a nearby throw pillow. “You stole my marshmallow. You must pay!”

“You’ve had like six of them. I’ve only gotten two.” Carson backed away a few inches, bringing him closer to another pillow.

I giggled. “Then stop trying to incinerate them.”

As he turned his attention to reach for his pillow, I launched mine at him, landing a direct hit to his head. “Hey, you’re firing at an unarmed man.”

The bag of marshmallows was closer, and he abandoned his reach for the pillow. He grabbed the handful of the sugary goodness, instead. “Carson, you’re going to make a mess!”

He shrugged. “Are you scared, Willow?”

“Never!” Another laugh escaped before the marshmallow hit me smack in the face. That meant war. My skewer still had some gooey stuff on it. I picked it up and swiped it across his cheek.

Carson’s eyes grew big, and he snatched my foot and began to tickle it. I was going to pee my pants. He knew my weaknesses. “Are you ready to call uncle?”

I thrashed, trying to fight him off. “No!”

The tickling persisted. I would not give up. I refused. I reached for a pillow and hit him on the side of the head, causing him to release me. We laughed as we scrambled to our feet, preparing for what the next one would do.

“Do you want to call a truce?” His blue eyes danced with fun. This was exactly what I needed. “What’s it going to be, Russo?”

CRASH!

We jolted and swung our attention to the back porch, where the noise came from. In a flash, Carson headed to the door. The rain pelted harder. It was like a monsoon. The weather was unseasonal.

“Be careful out there. Do you want an umbrella?”

He flicked on the back porch light. “Nah, I’m good. Let me check. I’ll be right back.”

He opened the door, and the sound of the storm intensified. Carson stepped outside into the rain. The door remained open as the rain made its way in. Quickly, I grabbed one of the kitchen towels to clean up the mess.

Lightning struck, illuminating the angry night sky.

The storm was getting worse. I waited and watched for Carson to come back. When I was on the verge of going after him, he came back inside and shook out his long hair. It sent rain droplets flying everywhere. He was soaked. “The storm knocked over the umbrella. It’s getting bad out there.”

Another flash of lightning streaked across the sky. “Do we need to secure anything?”

“No, everything else looks good.”

Carson headed to the guest bathroom and reemerged with a towel to dry off with. A yawn escaped me as I took in our mess. “I’ll clean up the rest of this in the morning. I think this girl is headed to bed.”

“Night, sleepyhead. I’m going to work a little bit in the study. The Italy hotel should be getting in any moment.”

Placing a few of the pillows on the couch, I asked, “Are they getting any better?”

“I don’t think so. We’ve had several reported thefts. So we’re adding some security per Trent’s recommendations. I’m hopeful it gives us some answers.”

The fact that Carson allowed Trent so close to his hotels spoke volumes. The problem in Italy sounded terrible. Managing people was not my forte. I preferred it to be me, the canvas, and the paint. It was a perfect combination. “Ugh. Better you than me. Enjoy working while I get my beauty sleep.”

“Night, Willow. Trent is headed back from Italy in a couple of days. He said he would make his schedule clear whenever you wanted to meet.”