Page 94 of His Two Hidden Masks

“Bella, I have told you the truth tonight. I told you who I really am.”

“Bullshit,” I said, pulling on my pants. I fastened my bra and pulled on my sweater. I needed to find my boots. I had to get out of this room before I started screaming.

“Don’t go,” Dylan said. “I can’t fix what I’ve done, but I can help. There is a way for us to stop the acquisition. Together.”

“You want to help me now?” I laughed, picking up my boots. “I’m so glad you thought to mention that after you fucked meevery which way.” I sat down and pulled on each boot, zipping it to the thigh.

“You have been lying to me from the moment we met. And all this bullshit about your music. How I brought it back. What the fuck, Dylan? I actually started to think I had real feelings for you. I was so afraid of what I was doing, knowing that it would hurt when you left. It would hurt, because I thought I was falling in love with you.”

“Bella,” he said. His face paled.

I stood up, fully clothed. Tears blurred my vision. “Does it make you fucking happy to know that you are that good of a liar?”

“I wasn’t lying. I’m not lying now. How I feel. How you feel. This is real, Bella.”

“Okay, so you lie about some things, but not others. Great. So good to know that you are an inconsistent liar.” I glared at him. “Were you even telling me the truth about Rebecca?”

Dylan looked stunned.

I picked up my phone, and I scanned the room to make sure I’d picked up every piece of myself.

“Whatever this is, it’s done,” I said, my voice catching. “Stay away from my family. Stay away from me. Tell your brother this isn’t over. If he thinks I am going to watch him steal my family’s company, he has another fucking thing coming.” I opened the door. “Goodbye, Dylan.”

The door clicked shut and the tears I’d been holding at bay spilled over. I didn’t try to stop them, but let them pour out.

Once again, I was leaving a man that I mistakenly thought I loved, but this time I wasn’t running. This time I was grieving and making a plan.

20

Iwalked down the marble staircase of the Mia Sorella, wiping my tears away. Paolo was busy with a happy couple at the front desk. The espresso bar was up and running in the sitting room.

It felt surreal leaving Dylan’s bed and stepping back into my life. The familiarity of the hotel made it easier to gather myself together. The sex, the secrets, the fight. Was it real? Or all a beautiful and painful dream?

I paused in front of Sara’s portrait in the lobby. There she was, frozen in time, beautiful, forever young. Her brown hair loose around her face, her dark eyes shone wide and luminous.

The blue heart on her necklace almost glimmered. I realized how little I knew about Sara’s life. If I believed Dylan, Roberto and Sara had been more than friends. Roberto had been the one who suggested we put her portrait in the lobby.

There was so much I didn’t know about my sister. My memories of her were precious to me, but didn’t extend beyond the boundaries of our palazzo.

“Bella!” Auntie Aurora’s voice called for my attention. She sat in the sitting room in a wingback chair before the fire.

Dancing orange and blue flames filled the room with a soft warm light. Auntie Aurora had a cappuccino and her deck of cards set out on the table before her. She motioned me over.

I wanted to go home. I didn’t have time for my Auntie or her cards, but it occurred to me she might be one of the only people I could trust right then.

“You are up early,” I said, leaning down to kiss her on both cheeks.

“Buongiorno, amore. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to come here. To wait with my cards. Come sit beside me.” She patted the seat next to her. I sat down.

“What do you want to ask the cards, Bella?” she said, shuffling.

“I don’t want to ask the cards. I want to ask you,” I said, facing her. “This acquisition is a mistake, Auntie. James Street is going to destroy the company. I think Roberto wants him to -- he made a deal with him.”

She didn’t react, just nodded and continued to shuffle.

“Do you think it’s true? Does Roberto hate my father enough to do something like this?”

“He might,” Auntie said, holding her deck in her hands.

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