Page 47 of The Lies We Tell

The air was cold, but the sun was warm, and they both played over her skin in a war of the senses. She let the wind dry the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes.

The more her father pushed and hedged, the less she believed her mother might still be alive. But if she wasn’t, Tessa had been doing all of this for nothing. And she wasn’t ready to believe it was for nothing yet. She wouldn’t let herself go there until she heard her mother’s voice. Or she didn’t.

Bending at the waist, she pressed her forehead to the cool railing and let the chill wash through her body. Her mother had to be alive. Why else would her father agree to let Tessa speak to her? He had to know she wouldn’t give him a goddamn thing if she spoke to a stranger.

But the alternative wasn’t better. If he was telling the truth, and this time next week her mother’s voice played in her ear, Tessa would have to betray the only person who had been kind to her in such a long time. A person she was starting to miss when they weren’t together. A person who made her feel wanted and beautiful and cherished.

The end goal had been so clear when this all began, when she agreed to do this thing for her father. Now she couldn’t see a way out of this without someone she cared about getting hurt.

Chapter Eighteen

Tessa stared out the window as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of a towering office building. Palermo’s business district was not where she expected to end up when Matteo texted and said he was sending a car for her.

The driver climbed out of the front seat, rounding the trunk and opening the door. Hopping down to the pavement, she craned her neck to look up at the gleaming steel and glass.

So this was where Matteo went every day. It certainly fit the image he insisted on projecting, businessman instead of Mafioso. Still, the idea that he would rent office space in a high-rise building just to maintain that image seemed a little silly. And why would he summon her here instead of just waiting to talk to her at home?

Only one way to find out.

Crossing to the revolving glass door, she pushed into a lobby with a soaring atrium that was at least three stories high. The floors were black marble polished to a mirrored shine, and potted plants in elegant black and chrome planters somehow managed to give the vast space a cozy, inviting feel.

A man with broad shoulders and tree trunk arms wearing a black suit and tie with a white button-down sat behind a desk topped with the same shiny black marble as the floor. He caught her eye as she approached but didn’t smile.

“I’m here to see Matteo Bianchi. Do you know what floor—”

“Tessa?”

She turned at the sound of her name to see a willowy redhead walking toward her, tablet balanced in one hand, a bright smile on her face.

“I’m Maeve,” the woman said, extending her free hand for Tessa to shake. “I’ll take her up, Gio,” she said to the guard, who nodded. “This way.”

Tessa trailed away from the guard desk and followed Maeve around the corner to a bank of elevators. Maeve pressed a button to call the elevator, and the doors opened immediately. Once inside, she swiped a black card over a pad, waited for the light to go green, and pressed the button for the top floor.

As the car climbed, Tessa tried to study Maeve without staring. This thin, beautiful redhead was not at all who Tessa pictured as Matteo’s assistant. She didn’t know how she felt about the uncomfortable pinch of jealousy between her ribs at knowing this was who Matteo spent most of his time with.

“I was wondering if I could ask you some questions,” Maeve said, breaking the silence.

“Questions?”

“About your mother.” Maeve smiled. “I’ve tried all the usual avenues to find someone, but she must be living pretty far under the radar. Or under an assumed name, maybe.”

Maeve tapped a perfectly manicured nail across the screen of her tablet, brows drawn together. “I found her maiden name in a records search and tried that, but didn’t have any luck. Can you think of any other names she might be using that would have allowed her to stay hidden for so long?”

Tessa shifted on her feet. It was impossible to know what lengths her father might go to in order to hide the wife who had so thoroughly disappointed him. Would he give her enough freedom to need an assumed name?

“My mother was really close with her maternal grandmother until she moved to Geneva when my mother was fifteen. Anna Maria De Luca was her married name.”

The door opened with a ding, and Maeve stepped off, fingers darting over the screen of the tablet. “That’s very helpful. Thank you.”

“Maeve,” Tessa said, trailing behind her through the empty cubicles. “Do you think my mother is still alive?”

Maeve hesitated, and Tessa couldn’t tell if she was preparing to lie or tell the truth.

“Honestly, I don’t know. If she wanted to be found, I probably would have by now. But that doesn’t mean she’s dead. I’m going to officially rope Sienna in on this as long as Matteo has no objections.”

“Objections to what?”

Tessa looked up to see Matteo framed in the doorway to a large office. He’d removed his suit jacket and vest and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms and the tattoo she liked to trace her fingertips over while he was sleeping.

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