Page 25 of Deception

“Sorry. My clothes were damp and cold.”

“Don’t apologize. Here.” I pass her the steaming mug.

Isabella inhales deeply before taking a sip. “Oh, it tastes just like home.”

“Home?”

“I was born in Trieste. You?”

“We moved around a lot. ‘Home’ was never really part of my vocabulary.”

“We did too. My father moved for work.”

Crackling wood fills the space and the silence in the room for several minutes before she speaks again. “Tell me something about yourself, Alessandro.”

“Sharing isn’t really in my wheelhouse.”

“Really? I would have never guessed,” she snickers. “Whatisin your wheelhouse?

“I’m good at dealing with people.”

“You don't strike me as a man of many words.”

“No. Not many. But every single word I say has meaning and purpose. My father taught me never to speak flippantly, out of turn. When I speak, it matters.”

Isabella’s gaze clouds, simmering with a shadow of her thoughts. Something I said resonated with her, or she’s taunting me.

“That tells me something, but not much.” She’s fishing.

“Who I am and how I am are more of a tell than what I do.”

“Ah, you are good with words. This will be a challenge,” she says, eyeing me with a smirk.

“Challenge?”

“To get you to reveal your secrets.”

“Hmm. Good luck. I might find it equally challenging to get you to answer me honestly.”

“I've been honest with you thus far.”

“About as honest as I have been with you thus far.” Something about her showing up here in the middle of the night, after our run-in at the bar, itches at my sense of caution.

I find I can’t bring myself to get after her, really demand answers. Our banter is intriguing.

Distracting.

If she is lying, trying to fool me, or con me, she’ll eventually talk herself into a corner and hang herself.

“So, what brings a brooding export magnate up into the mountains to his castle in the Alps this time of year? Isn’t there work to be done?”

“There’s always work to be done. I simply wanted to get away for a bit.”

“Get away from what? Mistresses?”

“I don’t have mistresses,” I snap.

“Your wife nagging you, driving you insane?”

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