White Lies (A Twisted Fate Series) (Volume 1) (25 page)

The sadness emanating from Trent touched me. “Alfonso died not long after that.”

And Trent had been silenced out of loyalty to Dad.

“Ms. Russo—”

“Willow. Please call me Willow.”

He smiled. “Willow, I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”

“Thank you. I appreciate all that you’re doing, Trent. Truly.” At this point, I needed the help. “Is there anything else we need to talk about?” Exhaustion had gained the upper hand rapidly.

Trent stood. “You must be tired. One last thing—do you happen to have anything Alex touched that hasn’t been cleaned? There may be fingerprints I can compare against what we found at the art gallery.”

It had been nearly a month since he died. It came to me. “I have some paperwork I think Alex accidentally left. There’s a bank statement, some cryptic notes, and a picture of his child.”

Trent raised his eyebrows. “Can I take those for comparison purposes?”

“Sure. Let me get them.”

I already had copies of everything. I took the stairs two at a time and found the satchel with the folder in it near the seating area of the room. Taking the folder out, I took a deep breath. Trent was the second man I trusted somewhat blindly. It was nerve wracking as I second-guessed myself.
Am I making the right decision?

I stopped for a second and took a steadying breath. Dad trusted Trent. This was my decision… right or wrong.

Back downstairs, Trent lingered near the front door with Andre. I handed over the files. “Here are the files. When will you know?”

“Give me until tomorrow to confirm. I’d like for Andre to stay in the house, if that’s okay with you. Is Carson staying?”

Looking at the time, it was late. “I would imagine so. There’s another guest bedroom next to the one Carson stays in if Andre wants it.”

In a deep timbre, Andre answered, “I’ll be fine, Ms. Russo. Thank you, though.”

I was too tired to argue, so I saw Trent out and showed Andre the kitchen. “I’ll be up in my room. Thank you, Andre.”

“Of course, Ms. Russo. Everything will be fine.”

Carson came out looking frazzled from the office. “Has Trent left yet?”

“Just now. Andre is staying in the house. Want to talk about it?”

He sighed and stared at me, the dark circles prominent under his eyes. “Not really. Can we talk about it in the morning?”

Now, I was a little worried. Carson looked like I felt. We both needed sleep. “Whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“Thanks, Willow. What did Trent say?”

Carson looked exhausted. I was exhausted. “Let’s talk about it all in the morning after we get some sleep. Our problems will wait.”

Giving me a brief hug, we exchanged good-nights. Weary, I trudged to my room. I heard my phone vibrating in my purse.

It was Tack.

“Is everything okay?”

He sounded panicked. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

I kicked my shoes off and sat on the chaise lounge while I moved my toes, stretching my feet. This was the scary part of the night… when the impact of the truths made themselves known. What the hell, why not tell Tack at this point? “You know the painting on loan at the Uffizi?”

Hesitantly, he responded, “Yes.”

“Turns out it had been stolen.”

“I know.”

More irritation came to the surface. “Why did you keep this from me?”

He sighed before he said, “I found out while I was in Italy when I dug a little deeper. What else did Trent tell you?”

I took a deep breath. “Just about Dad. And the fingerprints found at the scene when the painting had been stolen.”

Silence. “Does Trent know about me?”

“No. Honestly, Tack, I’m tired of playing games. Who are you? What is your end game?”

I knew I sounded short and bitchy, but I was tired and stressed.

Letting out a frustrated noise, Tack became serious. “I have no ulterior motive, Willow. My end game is you.”

Oh my.

“Tack…”

“Sweetheart…”

Apparently, we were both at a loss for words. The connection between us deepened without warning. I was unprepared for it. I wanted to keep him on the phone, not ready to let him go, not ready to let the realness of the moment go.

“I don’t want to hang up, Willow. Let me read to you.”

“Please.”

There was something so private, so intimate, and so loving about listening to Tack’s words as they lulled me to a peaceful sleep.

I
finished pouring the batter for the last crepe as Carson walked into the kitchen looking a hell of a lot better than he looked last night. He went straight for the cappuccino machine and made himself one without saying a word. I waited to see if he was ready to talk. I knew I was.

Last night, Tack hadn’t pushed after he started reading to me… he’d simply been there, which I’d needed more than I thought. I still hadn’t truly processed what all had happened with the painting being stolen. A part of me felt violated by the act. Maybe that was why Dad hadn’t wanted to tell me. He’d known how it would affect me—by slightly jading my view of the world.

The thin layer of dough finished cooking, and I folded the fresh strawberries into the crepe and placed it on a plate. I added a small amount of powdered sugar. Strawberry crepes were something Mom always made after I had a rough day. She’d learned from a woman visiting Florence from Paris one summer while we were overseas. From that point on, it became a comfort food. Once, after I’d broken my arm, I got crepes with ice cream. That had been a magical day.

I handed Carson a plate and we went to the bar, where he sat beside me. The worry lines on his face were clear, which troubled me. Normally, he would have told me by now. He took a bite. “I remember your mom always made these whenever we’d had a rough day.”

“I was thinking about that. I woke up this morning thinking we probably both needed these. If it gets too bad, we can always get the ice cream. I think I spied some gelato in the freezer this morning.”

Some of the life was back in Carson’s face. After taking a sip of his coffee, he nodded. “You first.”

Finishing my bite, I turned his way. “Well, the Botticelli was stolen not long after I met Alex. That’s the reason behind the indefinite loan to the Uffizi. At the crime scene, there were two sets of prints. One was professionally removed, one not so professional. Trent determined the not-so-professional prints belonged to Harley.”

Carson pinched his brows together. I clarified. “The guy at Cocktails.”

He nodded, obviously remembering the sleaze bag. “Trent thinks Alex was the other person. I gave him those papers I found to see if Trent could make the connection.”

Carson’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Holy fuck. Willow… I’m sorry I wasn’t there last night. I wish I’d known.”

“It’s okay. I promise.” My throat tightened. “I was a mark from the beginning. I’ve known this… but it hurts. I really thought there was something there. I—” Abruptly, I stopped, knowing if I didn’t, a sob fest would be eminent.

Arms came around me. “He never deserved you.”

The words were sweet, but did little to take away the sting of the lies, betrayal, and deceit. I wanted to change subjects. “Your turn.”

Carson sat back abandoning his crepe too the worry from earlier returning. “Francesca is pregnant. She found out the day I left, which is why she was off—she thought I bailed on the relationship. I’m going to be a dad. Her father was less than thrilled when she told him. He’s old school. Last night, I arranged for her to come here while we work it out. I don’t want her father stressing her out. She’s on her way now.”

A smile spread across my face. A baby. Carson was going to be a daddy. Children were so innocent; I knew Carson would be a wonderful dad even if the timing was less than perfect. “How do you feel about it?”

“I’m scared shitless, but this baby will be always be a miracle… never a mistake or accident.” I loved his words and gave him a hug before sitting back down. Carson took hold of his fork and motioned for me. “We can’t let these crepes go to waste.”

I took another bite and leaned against him. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you as a best friend.”

“I feel the same way, angel.”

We took a few more bites before Carson spoke. “Francesca and I have a lot to figure out.”

I went to the freezer and pulled out the homemade vanilla gelato. “I think celebratory ice cream is in order. Congratulations, Carson. You’re going to be a magnificent dad.”

He chuckled. “I was wondering how long it was going to take before you got some. Give me a big scoop.”

Easily, I scooped the yummy goodness on our plates. “Admit it. You were two seconds away from getting it yourself.”

In response, I got a wink before the conversation turned serious again. “Thank you, Willow, for being here for me. I want you to know I’m still here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I know that, Carson. And I love you for it. The same goes for you. Regardless of what’s going on, I’m here for you.” It was an emotional morning. I took a bite of ice cream to stave off the tears.

“Francesca is worried what you’ll think. She hoped maybe she could talk to you.”

Babies were so pure and innocent. They represented happiness. “Tell her not to worry at all. After she gets here, I’ll plan something simple for us to do.” I sighed. “I’m going to spoil that baby so much. I can’t wait to be an aunt. Do you know how far along she is?”

“No, she wanted me to be there with her at the doctor to get the due date if I wanted to be.”

I liked the response. “Your mom is going to be excited. She’s been mentioning grandbabies since you graduated from college.”

Carson shook his head. “Poor Francesca.” We laughed. “So what’s next?”

“See what else Trent finds. Do my show in three days. And then see where it all leads.”

Three days had passed since returning early from Italy. It was hard to believe it had been a month since Alex died. So much had changed since then—I had changed as a person. To go through what I had… I believed it was impossible to not be scarred from the tragedies. But I was determined to wear those scars proudly.

At my insistence, Carson was at his house with Francesca. He’d offered to bring her here to stay with me, but they needed this time to figure things out. He checked on me regularly. However, I was more than protected with all the security measures Trent had in place.

The fingerprints from the documents I had provided took longer than expected. Trying to find oil smear patterns was a tedious job, apparently. To my knowledge, Trent’s team hadn’t found a match. Things were further complicated since Mildred, Carson, and I had touched them.

Tack and I talked frequently now that I was alone, though I was still surrounded by people. Last night, I’d sat in my studio watching the sunset while we spoke. We’d talked about nothing at all but everything at the same time.

I told him stories from my childhood.

Tack told me dreams of his future.

I was too scared to admit my dreams. So he avoided his childhood, and I avoided my dreams. It had worked. The past and the present collided into harmony.

Maybe it was a foreshadowing of things to come.

There was something to be said about getting to know the soul of a person before you saw them. It was hard to not feel something for him. Tack had been there in a way no one else had. But I was ready to not have any secrets and see the man behind the voice that stole my thoughts more often than not.

The next song played on my phone. “Unsteady” by the X Ambassadors. I paused while cleaning in my bedroom. The lyrics spoke to me. I wanted to be held on to and loved.

My phone paused the song when a reminder popped up.