Page 45 of The Lies We Tell

But the more time she spent with Matteo, the more she hoped Maeve would find her mother so Tessa could do everything in her power to help the Bianchis bring her father down. She wanted his end, just not more than she wanted her mother back.

A noise at the top of the stairs drew her attention, and she melted into the shadows of a potted palm. Whether because of Matteo’s orders or sloppiness, the maids had begun leaving Matteo’s bedroom door unlocked after cleaning it.

The study remained a vault she couldn’t get into, but Matteo sometimes brought work to bed. She’d seen a stack of file folders on his nightstand last night before he took her across the hall to her room and they made use of the giant claw foot tub in her bathroom. Matteo had taught her a new love of bubble baths.

The way he touched her, as if he’d never get enough of her, was addicting. She was constantly reminding herself it meant nothing, that he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her if he knew the truth about why she was here.

Her head would be on the chopping block right next to her father’s if Matteo or any of them found out she was passing information to him. Even if that information never seemed to be as helpful as Salvatore wanted it to be. He was growing increasingly agitated that everything she’d sent him so far still left him a few steps behind.

The maids descended the stairs, talking animatedly while they lugged their buckets and vacuums from one room to the next. They always cleaned Matteo’s room last, so she knew she’d have the whole upstairs to herself for a while. Matteo said he wasn’t due back until midafternoon.

Waiting until their voices faded, she darted quickly up the steps, jogging down the hallway and around the corner. Her heart pounded and her palms grew damp when she noticed the sliver of light peeking out from the crack in Matteo’s bedroom door. Open.

Checking that the coast was clear, she pushed in, leaving the door the way she’d found it. She slept in here often enough now that if someone happened in and found her here, she could say she was looking for a piece of clothing or an earring easily enough.

She rounded the bed and stared at the haphazard stack of manila folders where Matteo had left them on the nightstand. Bringing work to bed must be more of a habit than an intention for him these days. Since he rarely did more than worship her body until they both passed out once he came upstairs.

Reaching for the top file, she hesitated, bringing her hand back against her chest and curling it into a fist. Nothing about this felt right. Not helping her father, not betraying Matteo, none of it. But she wasn’t doing this for herself. She was doing it for her mother. And getting her mother back alive was worth the guilt constantly eating away at her insides.

The first folder felt heavy in her hands when she lifted it up and dropped it on the bed, but she wasn’t sure if that was reality or her conscience. Sinking to her knees, she flipped the folder open and leafed through the first few pages. Casino business. Probably not what her father was looking for.

The next folder was nothing but information about the strip clubs Matteo had absorbed from the Romano territory. The third was a bunch of paperwork with notes in the margins about Gallo Industries, the deal her father had tried to sabotage with Sienna’s death. A plan she’d most definitely foiled by killing the man tailing her.

The last folder was stuffed with miscellaneous papers, and it surprised her. Matteo was so ruthlessly organized she couldn’t imagine him lumping everything together into one folder. But the handwriting on this one was different, a loopier script than Matteo’s usual all-caps text. Something his assistant had put together, maybe. The illustrious Maeve everyone seemed to love so much.

This one had sample drink menus for the clubs and a page of text detailing some ideas for siphoning business away from her father’s hotel casinos. None of it looked very useful until she saw the page at the very bottom of the stack.

This one was a list of names, some of whom she recognized. Men her father had invited to the house for dinner or mentioned over drinks with Tomaso. Some of the names were starred, others were highlighted, and still more had notes scribbled next to them.

Ilyin was crossed out. The Russians she’d already warned him about. Another name was crossed out too, Salgado, with a string of numbers that looked like dates or maybe times behind it. Probably the Spanish contact she’d given Matteo. She didn’t know what all the shorthand was, but it was the only paper in the stack that struck any sort of chord for her.

Using her phone, she took a quick photo of it and sent it to her father. Carefully tucking things back into the folder, she stacked them on the nightstand as best she could so they didn’t look disturbed. Hopefully if Matteo noticed they’d been moved, he’d assume the maids did it while dusting.

Crossing to the door, she held her ear up to the crack and listened for any noise. Hearing none, she slipped out, pulling it to and darting across the hall to her own room. Slumping against her door with a sigh, she dropped her head back against it with a dull thud. How much fucking longer until this nightmare was over?

Her phone rang a moment later, making her jump. Luna flashed across the screen. Mouth suddenly dry, she moved further into the room and accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Is that it?” her father demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean, Tessa,” he snapped, “is what the fuck am I supposed to do with a bunch of names and scribbled notes? I already know Matteo is going after my contacts, and I’ve shored myself up in that department. I need more. I need to know where he’s going to try to undermine me next.”

“What I sent you is what I have access to.”

She jumped at the sound of a door slamming across the line. “And I’m telling you it’s not fucking good enough! I’m tired of playing catch-up. I didn’t know about the Russian thing in enough time to head it off, and he used it as a distraction to steal a Spanish supplier right out from under me. And since the Gallo bitch is still breathing, I'm fucked there too.”

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut and dropped onto the edge of the bed. Her father must have assumed the Bianchis took him out directly. For now, at least, her cover was intact.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“Did I ask you to speak?”

Tessa drew the inside of her cheek between her teeth and bit down on it hard. What the fuck else did he expect her to do? She was tired of playing this dangerous game, of balancing on the razor’s edge and it still not being enough.

“We’re going to change tactics.”

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