Hidden Truths (Truths and Lies Duet Book 1) Page 2

  “Come,” I say, grabbing Alex’s hand. “I can’t wait for you to meet my family.” I already know his family isn’t here. His parents live in the States and weren’t able to fly over. Instead, Alex will be visiting them this summer, and he’s invited me to join him.

  “Talia!” My mom wraps me in a hug and kisses my cheek. “There was no Juliet better than you.” She pulls her face back and frames my cheeks. “You did a marvelous job.”

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  “Talia, you did a wonderful job,” my grandfather says. “You both did.” His eyes flicker from me to Alex, and I take that as my cue to introduce Alex to everyone. “Alex, this is my family. My mom, Melody, my stepdad, Stefano. This is my brother, Phoenix, and my grandparents, Emilio and Vera.”

  Alex gives my mom and grandmother a kiss on their cheeks and then shakes each of the guys’ hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

  “Oh, you are American,” my grandfather states when he hears Alex’s American accent, even though he already knows as much. I’ve spoken to my family several times about Alex since we met in our Performing Arts class this semester when he transferred here to study abroad for his last year and a half of college.

  “I am, sir,” Alex says. “Italian-American. I came here to learn about my roots.”

  My grandfather gives him a nod of approval. “Will you be joining my granddaughter this summer?”

  Alex gives me a confused look. I haven’t told my family that I’ve decided to join Alex in the States instead of spending my entire summer at home like I usually do.

  “Actually, I’m going to Chicago with Alex for the first half of the summer,” I admit.

  Nonno’s lips turn down into a frown as I knew they would, but it’s my mom’s face I’m more concerned with. Her brows are knitted together, and her lips are pursed. I know I shouldn’t have sprung this on her, but it was last-minute. I only found out a few days ago and felt it would be best to tell her in person. Aside from my one week with my father at the end of every summer, my vacations are always spent with my mom. She’s my best friend, and moving to Florence to attend school was one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make. Living three hours from her hasn’t been easy.

  “I’m sorry, cara mia, but that won’t be possible,” my mom says. “You’ve been summoned by your father.” She spits out the title like it’s a curse word. She doesn’t talk about why she and my father divorced, but whatever happened, I know it was bad because even after all these years, she still refuses to see or talk about him.

  “What? No!” I shake my head in confusion. “I always visit him the last week of the summer. You know this.”

  “Why am I just now hearing about this?” Nonno asks, his voice filled with concern.

  “I only just found out last night,” Mom explains. “Your brother will be taking you back with him.”

  “So, that’s why you came?” I hiss, choosing to hide my hurt with anger. “Not to see my final performance, but to drag me back to Thessaloniki?”

  “I came here to watch you,” Phoenix says slowly, “but yes, I also came to escort you to Dad.”

  “I’m not going.” My chin lifts in defiance and my arms cross over my chest. “I’ll see him at the end of the summer like I do every year. Besides, I already purchased my plane ticket to Chicago.”

  “Cara mia, why don’t we discuss this in private?” my mom suggests. Her tone hints she’s trying to be polite in front of Alex, but the way she quirks one brow up tells me there will be no discussion.

  Whether I like it or not, I will be going with Phoenix to visit our dad.

  We go to dinner as planned, but the entire meal is filled with tension. Everyone is being polite, but there’s a giant elephant in the room. When dessert is served—my favorite, crème brûlée—I finally address what nobody wants to talk about. “Why am I going to visit Dad now?”

  “I’m not sure,” Phoenix says. “I’ve only been told to bring you to him.”

  “And if I refuse to go?”

  Phoenix hits me with a don’t make this difficult glare. “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Mom,” I plead. She always has my back when it comes to my father. If anyone can keep me from having to go, it’s her.

  “I told you we would discuss this later,” she says, taking a bite of her dessert.

  “I have to take her from here,” Phoenix says.

  My mom’s eyes widen. “Now? I thought we could return home first.”

  “We’re flying out of Peretola,” he states. “The plane leaves at seven o’clock.”

  “Maybe I can go first and then you can follow after,” Alex suggests, ever the peacemaker.

  When we met, I was arguing with another student about a performance we were working on. She felt I was being too dramatic for the character, and I felt I wasn’t being dramatic enough. Alex walked over and played mediator—agreeing with her instead of me. Afterward, he introduced himself, to which I gave him the cold shoulder, upset he didn’t agree with me. He laughed and told me he would never be anything but honest with me, and he’s been a part of our group ever since. What started out as friendship eventually grew into more, and about two months ago, we made our relationship official. He’s sweet and thoughtful and caring, and I can see a future with him.

  “I wanted to go with you,” I whine, annoyed that once again my father is messing up my plans. This is just so typical of him. He is such a mess, and it always spills over onto his family. Last summer I made plans to visit Cambridge with some friends. We set up our flights and made our hotel reservations, but because my father had issues with his business, he had to push my trip to visit him back, and I couldn’t go to Cambridge.

  “Go see your dad, and once you’re done, we’ll transfer your plane ticket over so you can fly from there to Chicago,” Alex says. He reaches his hand under the table and squeezes mine gently.

  “Can I do that?” I ask Phoenix.

  “I don’t see why not.” He shrugs then glances at his watch. “We really need to get going, though.”

  “I haven’t had time to pack.”

  “I’ve been told it will all be handled,” Phoenix says.

  “How long is the flight?” Alex asks.

  “Five hours,” I say, slumping into my seat, frustrated. I’m twenty-one years old. My dad shouldn’t be able to dictate my life anymore. And if I were more of a bitch, I would put up a fight. But it’s just not worth it to argue. Growing up, I’ve witnessed on more than one occasion the way he treats those who argue with him. The last thing I want is to get on his bad side. My father and I have a weird relationship. When I was younger, I was his little girl. His sunshine. But once my parents divorced, it was as if I was made to choose sides. And I chose my mom’s. Ever since then, our relationship has become strained. He’s changed so much over the years. He used to be a man I could go to with my problems, but over time, his own problems have taken over his life, leaving little to no room for me. I miss him and hate him and love him all at the same time.

  “Call me as soon as you arrive.” Alex presses a soft kiss to my lips. “The time will fly by and soon you will be in Chicago with me. I can’t wait to show you around.”

  Everyone stands and exchanges hugs and kisses. Reluctantly, I go with Phoenix, while my mom and grandparents head back to Rome, and Alex heads back to his apartment to pack for Chicago.

  The town car takes us to the airport, but where I expect us to be dropped off so we can check in and go through security, we’re instead driven around the back and onto the tarmac.

  The driver pulls up to a huge sleek silver plane. Across the tail reads Global 8000 with a large letter D across the side.

  “We’re flying on that?” I ask, confused. There’s no way our father can afford a seat on this plane, let alone chartering it to pick me up.

  “It was given to us on loan,” Phoenix says, stepping out of the car and then taking my hand to help me out.

  We are greeted by two pretty
flight attendants who hand us each a glass flute filled with champagne and welcome us on board. The captain and co-captain also introduce themselves and let us know we’ll be taking off shortly. As we walk through the plane, I am stunned by the extravagance and luxury that fills the inside. Gray leather seats line the entire left side with a large flat screen television hanging on the wall. The right side has several recliners with glossy mahogany tables separating them. If it weren’t for the circular windows, I would think I was standing inside an expensive apartment.

  “If you need to take a shower or wish to take a nap, there’s a bedroom and full bathroom in the back,” one of the attendants informs us, and my jaw drops. There’s an entire bedroom on this plane?

  “Phoenix,” I hiss, pulling him to the side. “There’s no way Dad can afford this.”

  “I already told you it’s on loan.” The way he says it sends a shiver racing down my spine.

  “Nobody loans something like this for free! He couldn’t even afford the home we grew up in anymore and had to sell it!” Something is going on here…

  Just as Phoenix is about to say something, the captain comes over the intercom and asks that we have a seat and buckle in since we’ll be taking off in five minutes. “The skies are clear, and the flight to Heraklion will be four hours and nine minutes.”

  “Heraklion?” I shriek. “Isn’t that in…Crete?”

  Phoenix sits on one of the leather couches and nods. “Yes, have a seat.”

  “No! I thought you were taking me to Thessaloniki. What the hell is going on?” My eyes find the door where we came from and see it’s already shut.

  “You can’t leave,” Phoenix says, reading my thoughts. “They’re not going to open it now. We’re about to take off. So, please, just sit.”

  “First tell me why we’re going to Crete.”

  Phoenix sighs. “Dad is visiting with the Demetrious, a family he does business with. They own the ports Dad rents from. He’s requested for us to come and join them.”

  I drop onto my seat with a huff. I can tell by the way Phoenix is answering my questions, he either doesn’t know much or he’s purposely being vague. Either way, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know whatever is going on can’t be good.

  Once upon a time, my mom said our dad used to be successful, but greed got to him, and little by little he got in over his head. Every time I visit him, his homes get smaller. His clothes become more ragged. The restaurants we go to aren’t as expensive. He’s sold his yacht and no longer has a driver. Instead, he drives a cheap American car.

  He always tells me it’s just a minor setback and everything is going to be okay, but I’ve learned over the years, my dad is a pathological liar. I’ve begged him to get out of whatever he’s in, but he won’t. I don’t know exactly what he does for a living, or what Phoenix does by his side, but I’ve overheard my grandfather and mom talking enough to know whatever they’re doing isn’t exactly legal.

  “You know this can’t be good, right?”

  Phoenix doesn’t agree or disagree. “Why don’t you take a nap in the bedroom? I imagine you’ve had a long day.”

  We arrive in Crete four hours later, and waiting for us is a black limo. I took Phoenix up on his suggestion and slept the entire flight, so now I’m wide awake. Should be a fun, sleepless night… The drive to wherever we’re going takes about an hour. I text Alex to let him know I’ve arrived safely, and he texts back he’ll call me once he’s settled in Chicago.

  Because it’s almost midnight, everything is dark outside, making it hard to see. It’s not until we pull up to a large wrought iron gate, which reads Pérasma Hotel & Villas, that I can finally make out what’s around us. As the limo drives down the windy road, I take in my surroundings. Palm trees line each side of the road until we get to the front of the hotel. My God, it’s gorgeous! The entire front is lit up with soft honey-colored lights. The split-level buildings are white and sleek with large picture windows. It’s the perfect combination of chic and contemporary.

  The driver opens my door and helps me out, and the first thing I smell is the salt water. We must be near the beach.

  “It’s late,” Phoenix says, eyeing his phone. “I’ve been told there are rooms waiting for us, and we’ll meet up with Dad in the morning.”

  “I don’t have clothes,” I remind him as we step up to the front desk.

  “Good evening,” a brown-haired petite woman says sweetly. “You must be Talia and Phoenix Nikolaides.”

  “We are,” Phoenix says, hitting her with his best smile that always has women turning into disgusting piles of goo at his feet. My guess is within an hour she’ll be in his room personally turning down his sheets. Gag!

  “Great, we’ve been expecting you. Everything you will need, including clothes and toiletries, is in your rooms. If there is anything that isn’t to your liking, please call the front desk and we will get it for you. Breakfast will be served at ten, and it will take place on the first floor in the banquet hall.” She hands us each a card and explains how to get to our rooms. The way she holds on to Phoenix’s card for an extra second doesn’t go unnoticed. I seriously hope our rooms don’t share a wall. If I have to listen to him screwing her all night, I will lose it.

  As we walk down the wooden pathway she told us to take, my head moves from left to right, taking everything in. The hotel is literally sitting on the side of a cliff overlooking Mirabello Bay. I’ve seen this area in pictures but never in person. It’s absolutely stunning.

  As we continue to walk to our building, I notice the hotel is split into several areas—each having its own pool, restaurant, and pathway that looks to lead down to the water. I wonder if I’ll have a chance to check it all out while I’m here. I’m not happy about being here, but if I’m going to be forced to be somewhere, at least I can enjoy the sights. While Thessaloniki is on the water, it’s nothing like Crete. The water isn’t as pretty as it is here, and the entire area smells like fish because of the ships bringing in loads from the sea.

  We arrive at our building, and Phoenix tells me to get some sleep before heading into his room. Using my card, I place it over the black circle on the door and a lock clicks open. I enter the room and am almost knocked on my ass by the sheer luxury of my suite…no, not a suite, it’s more like a home! The extravagant king-sized bed sits catty cornered with plush white sheets trimmed with gold and matching pillows fluffed on top. I open the large cherry wood armoire and spot several gorgeous dresses. The tags indicate they’re all my size and expensive brands. I open a drawer and find various bras and panties, all with tags on them—again in my size. The next drawer contains silky pajamas in several different colors. The material glides through my fingertips.

  I step into the bathroom and find a huge egg-shaped freestanding spa tub and a shower that could probably fit ten people inside. The walls, floors, and counters are all various shades of onyx, gray, and white marble.

  Walking past the bed, I step up to the large window that makes up the entire west wall. It’s too dark to see much of anything, but I can almost make out the water down below.

  Sitting on the end of the bed, I lie backward onto the mattress and am swallowed up by the comfy down blanket. I’ve been raised in homes with wealth. When I was little, before my father began his descent, and then when my mom married Stefano, I grew up in expensive homes. Have been given all of the luxuries life has to offer. I attended one of the best private schools in Italy—my university tuition costs more than most make in ten years. But lying here in this bed, thinking about the plane I was brought here on, and glancing around at the furniture and décor and clothes that surround me, I realize I’ve never experienced this level of wealth.

  None of this makes any sense. I’ve visited my father every summer for the past eleven years, and every time, his situation was worse. I expected to be taken to him in coach on a shitty plane and then driven in by cab to whatever apartment he’s living in now.

  Knowing there’s no way
I’ll be able to fall asleep right away, I decide to go for a walk. I should probably tell Phoenix, but then he’ll just tell me no or insist on tagging along. Plus, he’s probably already getting it on with that woman from the front desk.

  After changing into a pair of shorts and a flowy top, I grab my phone and room key and put them in my back pocket. I take the wooden path down a little ways until I come to a bridge that forks. Under the bridge is flowing water and what appears to be different kinds of fish. I go left and it leads me to a courtyard that’s filled with beautiful outdoor daybeds with plush mattresses and pillows. I walk a little farther and find several mocha-colored wicker sectionals in the shape of half-moons. I imagine during the day people come out here and lounge out, reading a good book or even taking a peaceful afternoon nap.

  I’m about to sit on one of the sectionals when I notice the exquisite stone fountain in the center of the courtyard. “Bernini’s Rape of Proserpina,” I say out loud.

  “You know your art,” a masculine voice says.

  I turn to find a gorgeous man standing in front of me. He’s dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a white button-down shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing a hint of tattoos. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but his hair appears to be a dark shade of brown. At one point it looks like it was gelled neatly, but now it’s messy as if he’s been running his fingers through it. He’s sporting a pair of brown leather Sperry boat shoes. He’s the perfect mix of casual meets elegance.

  “It’s a rather controversial piece,” I tell him. It would be hard to major in art and not know about a piece like this. One of my favorite classes I’ve taken was Classical mythology.

  “Some say controversial, some say exquisite.” He shrugs, taking a step forward.

  “If you can call rape exquisite.”

  Stepping closer, the gentleman flashes me a brief wicked grin, and I’m able to get a better look at him. His hair is in fact the color of creamy hot chocolate on a cold day. His eyes are a beautiful shade of hazel, but they’re hard. Unforgiving. One side of his mouth is quirked up into a smirk I imagine has women falling at his feet. Hell, it almost has me falling. Almost.