Chapter 2 - The Price of Pretending
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Luca shut the study door and turned to face Evelyn.
The room smelled of leather, cedar, and expensive coffee. Framed photographs covered one wall: ships cutting through gray water, ribbon-cutting ceremonies, men in dark suits standing beside politicians who later claimed they barely knew the Carusos.
Luca pointed toward a chair.
Evelyn remained standing.
"You agreed to help me," he said.
"I did."
"You agreed to make this weekend easier."
"I agreed to pretend to be your wife. I didn't agree to manufacture a healthy family."
His jaw tightened.
"You embarrassed me in front of my father."
"Your father embarrassed you by asking questions you couldn't answer."
"Because I trusted you to handle the situation."
"Handling a situation isn't the same as lying about every person in the house."
Luca walked to the window. Beyond it, the estate's gardens stretched toward the distant Atlantic, their neat hedges trimmed with almost military precision.
At fifty-five, he was a handsome man in a restrained way. His dark hair had begun to silver at the temples, and his tailored clothes concealed the physical tension of someone accustomed to anticipating threats before they arrived.
Evelyn could understand why people obeyed him.
She could also see how rarely anyone challenged him.
"Let me explain the stakes," he said. "My father intends to sign the succession documents tomorrow. Those documents determine voting control of Caruso Maritime and several associated companies. If he delays, the board could split into factions. Investors will panic. Competitors will move."
"Then perhaps you should have married someone."
"I was married."
"You were widowed twelve years ago."
His face changed.
"My wife died. I didn't stop loving her because she died."
Evelyn's expression softened.
"I'm sorry."
He seemed surprised by the sincerity.
"Anna was the only person who ever made this house feel like a home," he said. "After she died, I focused on raising Sophia and running the company. My father decided that meant I was emotionally defective."
"And you thought a pretend wife would prove him wrong?"
"I thought it would stop the interrogation long enough to finish the paperwork."
"That's not a marriage. That's a public relations strategy."
He gave her a humorless smile.
"You're very good at your job."
"That's why you hired me."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Evelyn explained the rules again. She would not invent stories about children. She would not claim to have visited places she had never seen. She would not lie about anyone's health, treatment, or private struggles.
"If your father asks whether Daniel is in London, you can answer him. I won't."
"You don't understand my family."
"You're right. I don't. But I understand what happens when people become so frightened of disappointing one person that they begin lying to everyone else."
Luca looked away.
The words had struck closer than she intended.
Her own family had not been wealthy, but she had watched her former husband, Robert, turn every disagreement into a contest he had to win. By the time their marriage ended, she had learned that peace purchased with silence was merely another kind of loneliness.
She had no intention of repeating that mistake for a fee.
"What do you want?" Luca asked.
"Nothing beyond what we agreed. I will finish the weekend. I'll be polite, I'll attend the dinners, and I'll answer questions about myself honestly. The rest is your responsibility."
"You could lose the fee."
"I know."
"Most people would consider that money worth a few harmless lies."
"Most people haven't spent their lives watching wealthy families turn harmless lies into permanent arrangements."
He studied her for a long moment.
Finally, he nodded once.
"Fine. No more invented stories about the children."
"And no pretending we have some grand romance."
"Agreed."
Evelyn reached for the door.
"One more thing," Luca said.
She turned.
"My father will try to make you choose sides."
"I don't belong to either side."
"Everyone belongs to a side in this family."
"Then perhaps that's the problem."
She left him standing beside the window.
In the hallway, Rosa was arranging a vase of white roses on a console table.
"How bad was it?" the housekeeper asked.
"Depends. Does he always look like he's about to fire the weather?"
Rosa's laugh escaped before she could stop it.
"Mr. Luca has been carrying this family since he was thirty. He thinks every problem can be solved if he works long enough."
"And does it work?"
"Only if the problem is a broken boiler."
Rosa adjusted a rose.
"His father used to say that a Caruso must never show weakness. Mr. Luca learned the lesson too well."
Evelyn glanced toward the study.
"Then perhaps someone should teach them a different lesson."
Rosa's expression grew thoughtful.
"Miss Hart, I hope you know what you're doing."
"So do I."
At noon, Evelyn walked into the conservatory and found Luca's younger brother standing alone beside a row of lemon trees.
Marco was forty-eight, broad-shouldered, and less polished than Luca. He wore a navy sweater and carried himself like a man who had learned to be overlooked by someone who always took up more space.
"May I ask you something?" he said.
"That depends on whether it's another question about our imaginary wedding."
"Not exactly."
He glanced toward the house.
"Do you know why my father insists on signing the succession papers this weekend?"
"Because he wants to settle the future of the company."
"That's what he tells everyone."
Marco lowered his voice.
"Three months ago, he asked Luca to approve a restructuring of the family trusts. Luca refused because the documents would give our father extraordinary authority over the voting shares, even after succession. My father says it's a precaution."
"What does Luca say?"
"He thinks it's a trap."
Evelyn studied him.
"Do you agree?"
Marco hesitated.
"I don't know. But there's something else. My father has been asking about Daniel's finances. He wants to know where his grandson gets his money."
"Why?"
"That's what worries me."
Before Evelyn could ask another question, a car pulled into the courtyard.
A young woman stepped out wearing a long charcoal coat and carrying a camera bag.
Marco went pale.
"Sophia."
Luca appeared at the far end of the conservatory.
His daughter walked toward the house without looking at him.
May you like
Evelyn understood immediately that the next lie would not be directed at Vittorio.
It would be directed at the woman who had just discovered her father had supposedly married a stranger without telling her.
