Tangled Lies (Web of Secrets Book 1) Read online

  Her father’s voice interrupted them, breaking the spell she was under.

  “Tristan,” his tone hard. Flat. “What brings you here?”

  It took a second for Tristan to turn to her father, but when he did, his tone was oddly deferential.

  “Hello, Raymond. I was just in the neighborhood. You remember my cousin Marco, right?” At her father’s nod, he continued. “Well, Marco wanted my help with a situation.”

  His eyes squinted, and the look on her father’s face became cold and harsh. “Is that right? I saw your cousin the other day. He’d stopped by for some business help.”

  After a pause, Tristan responded, “Yes, I heard. Business decisions can be difficult, especially when the result has the potential to be detrimental to operations. I understand how it goes and can appreciate the tough choices that need to be made.”

  “You do? So, did you know what the situation was before agreeing to help your cousin?”

  Camille was as lost as a babe in the woods, but she also wasn’t dumb. Her father and the Sex God, also known as Tristan Lucarelli, knew each other. Or at least had mutual interests. And whatever his cousin had asked him to do, it hadn’t been a good thing. Maybe.

  Getting out of her own head, she turned back to their conversation, trying to decipher their code. This was why she needed her mother here. She’d get her father to stop pussyfooting around and speak plainly. Then again, her mother would have probably made them both stop talking altogether.

  Camille, being the nosey-as-hell person that she was, sat back and continued listening.

  “No, I had no idea. Sometimes my cousin has odd ideas. I don’t agree with ninety percent of what he does. Especially not today,” he paused. Glancing over at Camille, he lifted his lips in a semblance of a smile. “I’m just glad I stopped by to say hello. Otherwise, I may not have been able to meet your beautiful daughter.”

  Camille’s stomach clenched at the look he threw her way. This wasn’t like her. Responding to a man so quickly was unusual. She preferred to take her time getting to know a man, make sure he was worth her attention and effort.

  Plus, she wasn’t all that open and friendly. Her parents were two of the most loving, protective people she knew. But she also knew they were not to be trifled with. Neither of them would put up with any mess. Her father was quick to smile, but that switch could flip before you could blink. Her mother, Beverly, could slice a person to pieces with only her words. Camille had learned from the best, and that made her damn picky about who was able to see underneath the hood, so to speak.

  All things considered, she’d often lamented about how often she’d been accused of being too cold, or unapproachable to men.

  Her best friend, Shandra, told her she intimated men. Yeah, that was probably the truth. Thank God her parents didn’t put her in a box, forcing her to live by the standards of others. They let her make her own way, forge her own path.

  As a result, she’d obtained a degree in architecture, but decided to use her knowledge to build custom wood furniture. Just seven years after completing her master’s degree, she was a successful business owner. Her store, CS Designs, was highly sought after and making a healthy profit month-over-month.

  As a matter of fact, her business was so successful, she could basically write her own ticket for any piece of handmade furniture she created. Her clients were some of the wealthiest people in Massachusetts and Rhode Island. She’d even been contacted by some customers from across the United States and overseas.

  While some parents wanted their daughters to be doctors or lawyers, her parents simply wanted her to live and succeed on her own terms. Then again, she knew her father hadn’t grown up in the best of situations himself. Her grandmother had raised him on her own, living in Pawtucket, a small town next to Providence.

  Surrounded by people who lived their lives surviving on the street the best way they knew how, her father made it his life’s mission to make a better life for himself. Her parents didn’t share all the sordid details of his young life, but they told her just enough. Plus, she was a savvy woman in her own right. Things didn’t always add up with her father, and she’d put some pieces of the puzzle together on her own.

  Now, you had Tristan Lucarelli, the nephew of Don Lucarelli, walking up to her father as if they were old friends. Both men speaking in code about his cousin, errands, and advance knowledge of things best left unsaid.

  Glancing at her father, she saw him in a new light. So many things became more apparent. The gifts delivered every birthday and Christmas from a close childhood friend. Her father never said the name, only that it was someone she didn’t know, but who he called her Uncle Robert.

  She didn’t have an Uncle Robert.

  Realizing she’d lost track of the conversation again, she turned in surprise when her father tapped her arm. “Sorry. Yes, Dad?”

  Giving her an odd look, he nodded in Tristan’s direction. “Tristan’s ride is here.”

  Turning her head to look at the man standing in front of her, she couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. Mouth going dry, she swallowed roughly, then licked her lips. God, she really had it bad. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “I-It was very nice to meet you,” she managed to stutter into the silence.

  “The pleasure was all mine, Camille. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other around soon.” His gaze shifted to her father, and he slanted his head. “Raymond, if you need anything, please let me know. I’ll let my uncle know that I ran into you.”

  “Yes. You do that. Take care of yourself, Tristan.”

  “I will. You’ll do the same.” It wasn’t a request but a statement of fact.

  “Always.”

  And with those words, Tristan nodded again, turned away from them, and headed to a black SUV idling by the curb. Climbing inside, he turned his head towards the driver before they drove away.

  “Camille?”

  “Mmmm hmmm.” She was so distracted by what just happened, she couldn’t refocus on the matter at hand.

  “Camille Maria Sperry! Girl, you better get your head right back where it should be, and off that boy.”

  The snap in her father’s tone got her attention. Sitting back down in their chairs, she took a sip of water before speaking again. “Dad, was that who I thought it was?”

  Sighing, he placed his elbows on the arms of the chair, his hands coming together as he pressed his fingertips together. “Baby girl, there are things about your father that we haven’t told you.”

  “I know. I’ve put most of it together myself. Anyway, I already know who that man was. Although, I’m curious as to how he’s so comfortable with you. Not that I’m questioning you, Dad.”

  She was quick to add that caveat. To her parents, it didn’t matter that she was a thirty-two-year-old woman. In their eyes, she was still a child. Respecting your parents did not include making accusatory statements about their past that may, or may not, involve criminal behavior and relationships with the local mafia family.

  Nope, just wasn’t done.

  A smile came over her father’s face, and she smiled back.

  “You know, this is what happens when your child is smarter than you. She picks up things you never meant for her to know.” Taking a sip of his own water, he looked at her. “Do you know, the day I met your mother was the happiest day of my life. Until the morning you came into this world, screaming your head off at the injustice of it all.”

  “I’m sure the doctor spanked me harder than necessary. I’m still waiting for the day to catch him on the streets. He’s got it coming.” It was a long-time running joke between the two of them. She swore her temper and the need to fight, run, jump, and roughhouse stemmed from long-held resentment of the doctor hitting her, and getting away with it.

  Smiling as she thought of the hell she put her parents through, Camille was just glad she’d turned out normal. If one could call her that. As a child, running with th
e neighborhood boys, climbing trees, riding her BMX bike, and skinning her knees daily was her idea of fun.

  Her mother would just shake her head while asking what type of battle she was in that day.

  On the other hand, her father would laugh while asking her if she had fun, and if the other person looked worse.

  They knew she hung around with some kids in the wrong crowd, but she never seemed to be in any danger. That’s not to say she wasn’t a shit starter, because she was all that, and a little bit more.

  It got so bad when she was eight years old, her dad had a talk with one of the neighborhood boys. His name was Dwayne, but everyone called him “D.” He was two years older than her and Shandra, who lived two houses down from Camille. Before that day, they hadn’t been particularly close. She knew of him and knew both his brothers were locked up in the youth detention center. After the conversation her father had with D, things changed.

  Where Camille and Shandra were, D was close behind. She wasn’t sure what her father said to him, but he became their shadow. Their protector. If anyone tried to start shit with them, he only had to raise an eyebrow. They quickly backed down and stepped back.

  D was the one who taught her how to truly defend herself. She wasn’t sure if her dad knew, but D had become one of the most hardcore dealers in their neighborhood once the Sperry family left and moved into a new place. They’d kept in touch over the years. He promised not to get caught by a bullet or the police, and she vowed to make his efforts to protect her worthwhile.

  Not once did D allow her to skip school. If she wanted to hang out, she had to do her homework first. Even though he’d dropped out in the tenth grade, his vision for Camille was different. He was her big brother, and he definitely acted like it.

  Since Shandra still lived in her childhood home, D continued to look out for her as well. She’d always called their little trio The Three Musketeers. Camille thought it was too tame of a name for their crew, so she’d renamed them Hydra. One body, heart, soul—just three heads with unique brains, feelings, and voices.

  Her father began speaking again, so Camille tuned in to his words. “Sweetheart, I just want you to be safe. Tristan is a good boy. Smart. Never judge a man by who you believe his family is. His family… I know what people say about the things they’ve done. Just…I think he’s interested in you. I have no doubt he’ll be contacting you soon.”

  Getting nervous at what her father was saying, she fidgeted in her seat. “There’s nothing to be worried about, Dad. I mean, he’s handsome and all, but I’m not going to lose my head. He’s not my type. You know me. I’m looking for a man like my dad. He’s not anything like you.” Her lips turned down in sadness for a moment.

  Why suddenly did she wish that he were?

  What would it be like to have a man like Tristan Lucarelli desire her? If only he were more like her father. Her dad wasn’t perfect, but at least he wasn’t part of a criminal enterprise.

  CHAPTER 3

  Five days later, Tristan exited his vehicle and stood outside the doors to CS Designs. For a moment, he questioned if he were doing the right thing. Dismissing the thought just as quickly, he pushed the button to engage the locks on his car. Looking behind him, he saw his security detail standing close by, alert, and on the ready.

  He nodded to the team leader. Orlando Capriotti wasn’t only his head of security; he was one of his closest friends. They’d known each other since middle school, along with his other two best friends, Franco Labriola and Leonardo Mannetti, who preferred to be called Leo.

  Leo was the only one who wasn’t part of the extended family or worked for Tristan’s uncle. Then again, he didn’t need to be. The three of them had proven their loyalty to Tristan over the years in ways no one would understand.

  Orlando stood outside the black SUV that could be found wherever Tristan was. Always at the ready, that man wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who was deemed a threat. The number of bodies that could be laid at the feet of Orlando, Franco, and Tristan were too many to count. Not that it mattered. Sometimes shit happened, and the result sometimes got ugly.

  When he was younger and didn’t know any better, he’d resented always having someone following his every move. Until fifteen years ago, when his cousin, and Marco’s younger sister, Martina had been kidnapped. Shaking his head at the dark memories, he could look back now and see how stupid they’d all been. Each of them thought they knew more than his uncle and all the elders in the family.

  Martina ditched her bodyguards to go meet a boy. A boy who hadn’t been vetted by the family. No one knew who he was. Just a name. Tony. Turns out Tony was real and was just a teenage boy smitten by his beautiful cousin.

  The bad thing was, enemies of the family had been watching and waiting for an opportunity to hurt his uncle. To get back at him for some slight. Usually, families were off-limits, especially women and children. But on that dark night, when Martina had embarked on her teenage mission of rebellion, that was an opportunity his family’s enemy couldn’t let pass.

  It had taken them two days to find Martina. Two days that were too fucking long. That was the event that changed him. He’d earned his nickname when they found the man who’d taken his cousin. Portatore di Morte (Death Bringer).

  They protected the women of his family. Always. That someone that dared to violate the protective circle was not taken lightly. What he’d done to those men with his fists, a blade, and his 9mm would never be forgotten. His uncle had even looked at him with caution once everything was over. It had been the one time he’d truly let the darkness swirling inside of him come out to play.

  No one messed with his family and lived to tell the tale.

  He shook his head to clear away the memories. He needed to get back to the mindset of wooing his woman. Showing up at her place of business hadn’t been his first plan. Hell, it hadn’t even been his second. He’d planned to stay away, woo her with phone calls, flowers, and the promise of a romantic dinner.

  Their first phone call had occurred that Monday, only two days after they’d met. She hadn’t seemed shocked to hear his voice on the other side. If anything, it was almost like she’d been waiting for the call. That first night, they’d talked for nearly two hours. He should have been focused on his business, but all he wanted to do was hear her voice. The next night, she’d called him. They talked about everything and nothing at the same time. And it was one of the best conversations he’d had with a woman.

  He ran out of patience this morning and decided to scrap the entire plan. Now here he was. If she wasn’t happy to see him, he’d make sure she got to that point quickly, and by any means necessary. Now that he’d finally found a woman that he wanted to spend more than one night with, there wasn’t anything that could keep him away.

  Nodding to his friend standing guard, he turned back to the building. Time to make his presence known. Striding up to the doors, the automatic doors opened to allow him entry to the lobby area.

  Approaching the reception desk, he made his presence known. “Morning. I’m here to see Ms. Camille Sperry.”

  The woman at the desk stared at him with an open mouth. Although this happened more times than he wanted to admit, he didn’t have time to turn on the charm.

  After a few seconds of her gawking at him, he spoke again. “Did you hear me?”

  “Y-Yes, sir. Let me contact her.”

  Tapping on the desk with his fingers, he looked at her with indifference. “You do that.”

  Stepping away from the woman, he walked around, looking at the pictures on the wall. He noticed they all seemed to be photos of finished furniture. Camille was in each photo, sometimes with another person who appeared to be a happy customer. Other times, it was just Camille. A smile on her face with work boots on her feet.

  Did the woman own anything other than jeans?

  When he’d arrived home after meeting her last Saturday, he’d looked up her name and company on the internet. Wh
at he found made him reassess his opinion of her. Not only was she absolutely fucking beautiful, but she was also smart, talented, and would make an excellent partner in his life.

  The unknown factor was how she’d respond to a deeper connection. Could she accept his lifestyle? Did her father warn her to stay away from him? Sure, they’d talked on the phone, but those conversations weren’t even the tip of the iceberg. He wanted so much more from her than friendly conversation.

  Not that he spent his every waking moment committing crimes, because he didn’t. In fact, less than ten percent of his day had anything to do with that side of things. If it were up to his uncle, he’d take over the business in another couple of years. His goal was to do anything except that.

  “Tristan?”

  The sultry tone of her voice reached him from across the room. Turning to look at her, he took in her attire and almost smiled. Her hair was in a loose bun of some sort on top of her head. That beautiful face he’d dreamed about so much over the past five days was smudged with dirt or wood dust, he couldn’t quite tell. Today she wore a gray short-sleeve T-shirt, light blue jeans that hung low on her hips, the hem of her jeans were half-tucked into the lip of a pair of well-worn tan work boots.

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  “Hi, Camille.” Now that he was here, he wanted so much more than to just have a conversation. He wanted to grab her face in his hands and kiss her until the taste of her was embedded in his taste buds.

  “I didn’t know you were stopping by today. You didn’t mention it when we spoke last night. Um, is there something I can do for you?”

  He knew she was confused by his presence. “Do you have a place where we can talk?”