Page 69 of Luca
"That's wonderful. Will this help with the European expansion you've been working on?"
"Possibly. Though some partnerships require more investigation than others."
"What do you mean?"
"Only that it's important to know who you're really dealing with before you commit to any long-term arrangements. People aren't always who they claim to be."
The words hang heavy between us like an accusation. I take a sip of wine, trying to keep my expression neutral, but panic claws at my throat.
"I suppose that's true in business," I manage.
"It's true in all relationships, don't you think? The importance of honesty, of knowing who someone really is underneath whatever image they're presenting to the world."
"Yes. Absolutely."
"For instance, if I discovered that someone close to me had been lying about fundamental aspects of their identity, that would be... problematic."
"Of course it would be. Trust is the foundation of any relationship."
"Exactly. Which is why I find deception so troubling. The idea that someone could present themselves as one person while actually being someone completely different."
My hands are shaking now, and I have to set down my wine glass before I drop it.
He absolutely fucking knows.
Maybe not everything, but he knows something is wrong. The question is how much he knows and what he plans to do about it.
"Is there something specific you're concerned about?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Should there be?"
"I don't know. You seem to be speaking in hypotheticals, but your tone suggests you're thinking about something concrete."
"Am I? I was just making general observations about trust and honesty in relationships."
But we both know he wasn't. We both know this conversation is about me, about us, about whatever truth he thinks he's discovered.
The main course arrives, and I force myself to eat a few bites while my mind races through possibilities. If he knows I went to the hostel district, if he saw me talking to Carlos, what conclusions would he draw? That I have a secret lover in Prague? That I've been here before? That I'm not who I claim to be?
Any of those conclusions would be dangerous, but some would be more devastating than others.
"The food is excellent," I say, trying to return to safe conversational territory.
"It is. Very authentic. The kind of meal you might have at a local place, somewhere frequented by people who actually live in Prague rather than tourists."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"The kind of place you might go if you had local friends to show you around."
There it is again. Another probe, another careful question designed to reveal information I can't afford to share.
"I wouldn't know about that," I say. "I don't know anyone in Prague."
"Of course not. How could you? You've never been here before. Though I have to say, you seem remarkably comfortable here for someone experiencing a new foreign city."
"What do you mean?"
"Just that most people are more anxious about things like currency exchange, tipping customs, basic etiquette. You seem to know instinctively how to navigate Czech culture."
