Page 31 of Thorns of Desire
Uncertainty laced through her voice and something about it sent a pang through my chest.
“Who else?” Manuel narrowed his eyes on her, dark enough I could feel the coldness on my skin and he wasn’t even looking in my direction. “Whatever you got yourself into, it’s not going to end well. The people who are after you—Christ, Alexandra… The Triads are not a group to mess with.”
Mom got herself together, her tone suddenly steady and almost bored. “Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play coy with me.” There was a silence for a few beats. “What did you do to them?”
“Why don’t you tell me whatyouknow, and I’ll let you know if you’re on the right track. Otherwise, I can’t see how any of this isyourbusiness.”
“It’s my business when the Triads linger in my territory, asking questions about you. And it’s my business when Atticus Popov is roaming the continent, looking for you.”
So that was my father’s full name.Atticus Popov. Maybe I wouldn’t need to do my own digging after all, as long as my mother kept Manuel talking.
“Atticus who?” Mother asked, managing to sound curious.
I suppressed a sigh.Really, Mom?
“Your ex-lover,” Manuel deadpanned. “Stop acting. You’re terrible at it and a horrible liar.”
There was a long pause before my mother spoke again. “Fine, yes. Atticus was my first lover, but I have nothing to do with him now. I haven’t seen him or spoken to him in over twenty-three years, and I don’t intend to.”
“Maybe you don’t, but whatever you’ve done, the Triads want to settle the score. I suspect no amount of protection from Emiliano or his guards will keep you safe. Not to mention everyone you love.”
I heard footsteps and rushed into my room, hiding behind the door, clutching the vase against my heaving chest.
This had only opened the door to more secrets—possibly lethal ones—that my mother was keeping from me.
TWELVE
MANUEL
Two days later, I was in my office in Paris.
The visit to Alexandra was fruitless. The woman refused to share anything, her lips shut tightly—whether from fear or stubbornness, I didn’t know. One thing I did know: whatever the secret she was keeping, it was huge.
I rubbed my eyes behind my glasses. The words on the screen were fuzzy, my body was tired, and my mind was too chaotic to focus.
Sighing, I picked up my tumbler of grappa. I’d have preferred something stronger, but I needed to finish going through my spreadsheet before I could afford falling into a drunken stupor. Weeks of sleepless nights had slowly begun to take their toll on me.
A sharp knock sounded on my office door and I looked up from my laptop to see my nephew grinning like a fool. Of course he was happy, tomorrow he was tying the knot. He’d found his match in the mysterious violinist, Isla Evans, and I hadn’t seen his smile slip in weeks.
I, on the other hand, was still searching for mine. Athena was nowhere to be found—not for a lack of trying.
“You’re getting grumpy in your old age,” Enrico remarked as he took the seat opposite of me.
“And you’re getting annoying in yours,” I deadpanned. “Better knock that shit out or Isla will run the other way tomorrow.”
I drummed my fingers on the desk and sipped my drink, my thoughts drifting to white dresses and long auburn hair. I needed to get a grip.
He tilted his chin toward my laptop. “Are you busy?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, I’m just staring at my laptop for the fun of it.”
“Cristo, you’re really cranky, zio mio.”
I narrowed my eyes, almost tempted to smack that satisfied grin off his face. Instead, I leaned back into my chair, studying him. Isla, his bride-to-be, was significantly younger than Enrico, but I could tell she’d be good for him. She was already ruffling his feathers.
“You ready to be a married man?” I asked.
