“It’s not fair to ask someone not to be mad before you—”
“Oh, mio dio, sei Santiago Alatorre!”
Santiago’s eyes widen. “I thought you were alone.” He curses under his breath.
I look over my shoulder to find Matteo’s mouth opening before closing again.
Matteo catches himself. He walks up to Santiago and offers his trembling hand. “You’re here! In my shop! Wow! My family has always been a huge fan of racing, and when we heard you were living here, we couldn’t believe it. Especially since no one has seen you in person. But here you are in my shop of all places!” Matteo’s cheeks turn bright red.
I turn toward Santiago. I look so damn hard at him that I wonder if my eyes will turn into lasers. Who is he and why does Matteo recognize him? And what does Matteo mean about racing?
“A fan?” My voice croaks.
“Let me explain.” Santiago’s eyes snap from me to Matteo and back to me again.
My stomach churns at the look on his face.
Matteo pushes through, clearly not reading the room. “Of course. We’ve been Bandini loyalists for decades.” His face looks like a kid on Christmas morning. This is the most excitement I’ve seen from my father, and it happens to be toward the one person I clearly don’t know much about.
The only thing I do know is Santiago Alatorre is a liar. A big, fat, impossibly handsome liar.
“My son is a huge fan of yours and your brother-in-law. He says you guys were the best duo in years.” Matteo smiles.
A powerful wave of jealousy hits me. Matteo has a fucking son? My knees tremble, and I lock my legs to prevent myself from falling over. Jealousy coils around my heart and gives it a squeeze.
“Your son?” I choke on the words.
Matteo nods. His eyes scan my face, and his lips turn down. “Are you okay? You look pale.”
“I didn’t know you had a son. He’s never come by here before.”
“Oh, yes. He’s living in Milan, doing a summer internship hosted by his university.”
I attempt to get a hold of myself, but the world spins in a way that has me stumbling. Never during all of Brooke’s research did she find information about a son.
Santiago wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side. I want to rip his hands off me for lying about something that seems pretty damn fundamental, but I’m also grateful for his presence. Matteo keeps dropping too many bombs for me to process them all at once.
Matteo’s eyes snap from my face to Santiago’s arm. “Wait, Chloe. How do you know Santiago?”
Somehow, I gather my wits and plaster a smile on my face. Out of the hundred responses I could say, I settle on the one I hope gives me better access to my father’s inner circle. If the way to his heart is through his son, I’m willing to take a few hits.
I stand taller. “Matteo, meet Santiago Alatorre, my boyfriend.”
The way Matteo’s eyes light up has me excited about my choice.
Sorry, Santiago Alatorre. He might be the King of Lies, but I’m the Ace of Spades. And that only means one thing for him.
Game over.
14
Santiago
Her boyfriend? What. The. Fuck. That’s all my brain can come up with as Chloe pats my hand covering her hip. Is this how she felt when I did the same? I’ve got to give it to her—this round of payback is a whole other level of crazy.
Matteo’s phone rings from some back room and he frowns as he rushes to answer it.
I move to take back my hand but Chloe’s palm presses against mine. “Don’t.”
One word has me freezing. Does she understand what she just did?
Of course, she doesn’t. You didn’t bother telling her who you were last night and now this is karma.
Yeah, karma, well fuck you. No one likes the asshole who says, “I told you so.”
Matteo rushes back into the main dining area. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go pick up my friend. I hate to leave.” He frowns at me.
Chloe’s face brightens. “Oh! That’s okay! What if we invite you over for dinner next week?”
I grind my teeth together. Now she’s inviting random people over to my house? I want to interrupt and cancel these plans before they have a chance to flourish, but the smile on Chloe’s face has me second-guessing myself. Maybe playing her fake boyfriend for a couple of occasions in front of her boss isn’t the worst thing ever. It’s not like I have much else to do once Marko leaves. Plus, I don’t mind her brand of positivity. It beats living by myself, counting the days from my bed.