I don’t want to lose you.

Was that a lie too?

The expression on his face when he’d said it had looked authentic, earnest and pained and something else she couldn’t read. But how could she expect the truth from him when everything she had said had been a lie?

No, not everything. Not in bed with his lips on hers. That hadn’t been a lie. Not part of the plan either. She pictured him naked, beside her, on top of her, below her, his hands on her body, squeezed her eyes shut trying not to see him, because maybe that was all this was to him, sex, and now that he’d gotten it, he was moving on.

She wandered out to her balcony, took in the view, ochre and rose-colored buildings, terra-cotta rooftops, a slice of the Duomo. Like a storybook, she thought, make-believe, like the romance between them.

She gripped the terrace handrail, stared down at the small courtyard below, leaned so far over she felt dizzy. Whipped her head back and caught her breath. For a brief moment, she had considered letting go, pictured her body careening to the ground, but she could never do that, the idea of leaving her mother alone unthinkable.

Still dizzy, she lay down on the sofa, stared up at the ceiling, then closed her eyes and pictured Luke, his arm around her while she had told him about her mother.

That was real, wasn’t it? One of the few times she’d been honest.

The phone’s ring startled her, the number lighting up her cell phone.

“Yes,” she snapped.

“What sort of greeting is that?”

“The best I can do.”

“Oh, we’re in a mood, aren’t we?”

“Not we.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He broke up with me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was going away.”

“Where?”

“Back to Paris or…somewhere. He wasn’t clear.”

“Either he’s lying, or you are.”

“I’m not.”

A pause. “You have to see him again.”

“I told you, he doesn’t want to see me.”

“But you must.”

“It’s over. I’m through.”

“No,” he said, calm but determined. “It is not over. You are obligated, remember?”

Alex sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “But he doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, darling, that can’t possibly be true. He’s playing hard to get, that’s all. Find a way.”

“How?”

“Use your feminine intuition.”

“I hate you,” she said.

“That isn’t very nice, and you know it’s not true.”

Alex thought it was the only true thing she’d said in weeks. She stared at the phone, thought about her obligations, what she had promised and why. Then thought about Luke and how she would get him back—with more lies? More seduction? The idea of it, of continuing to lie to this man she thought she might love, made her feel empty and sick.

68

I still had my room at the Palazzo Splendour and headed over there, replaying our conversation the entire way, thinking of a dozen things I should have said but didn’t, couldn’t. The guy at the front desk was surprised to see me and told me what I already knew, that a man from INTERPOL had searched my room. He seemed excited, interested in me for the first time. I told him it was a misunderstanding, that I would clean out the rest of my stuff, but asked to spend the night.