Telling Lies Read Online Free Page B

that the bells had stopped ringing and the suite was quiet again.
     
    She wished she could say the same for her mind. She’d been dreaming when the church bells had roused her. And, as so often happens with an unsettling dream, it had faded away, leaving the merest remnants floating just out of reach of her consciousness. All she could remember was an uneasy feeling of being at the Uffizi, pursuing Jeff Sargasso endlessly through miles and miles of echoing corridors. No wonder she was tired.
     
    She wondered where Aaron was. They hadn’t gone to bed under the best of circumstances, their continuing disagreement about Jeff Sargasso leaving them both frustrated and cranky. Laurel suspected that Aaron hadn’t gotten much sleep, either. As they toured Italy, she’d learned that he was an early riser, needing to get moving as soon as he was awake. He’d probably dressed and slipped out quietly to walk the city and think things through. A little smile played across her mouth. She could picture him, his gray eyes intent, taking in the scene at one of the café bars on a side street off the Grand Canal, drinking espresso, and watching the boatmen gulp down their early morning pick-me-up shots of grappa. She sat up in bed, her smile vanishing as memories of yesterday flooded back. She and Aaron had discussed the situation over and over, first in Florence, then on the train to Venice, and again in The Danieli’s lounge, when they’d met up with Jenna and Tony.
     
    Laurel thought about Jenna, her best friend and most trusted confidant. A jewelry designer whose outrageous ideas and impulsive personality somehow translated perfectly into amazing baubles sought after by wealthy women in New York and Europe, she never held back from saying exactly what was on her mind. Then there was Jenna’s boyfriend Tony Mariotti, a gorgeous Italian male model who unfortunately—according to Jenna—had a brain as well as a body. They were both in Italy for work but had happily agreed to meet Laurel and Aaron for a few days of fun in Venice and sunning on its famous Lido Beach on the Adriatic Sea.
     
    Unfortunately, conversations with Jenna and Tony tended to be a little like a competitive tennis match; long volleys sailed endlessly back and forth, with neither opponent wanting to give up the point. Spectators were a captive audience, whipping their heads back and forth to follow the play.
     
    Jenna rolled her eyes and spoke in her most dramatic voice. “Laurel, you must be imagining things. No one who was on one of the top floors of that tower could have survived. There’s just no way.” She picked up her Campari and soda, ready to move on to the next subject.
     
    “ But, it could be possible. Laurel knows this man from before.” Tony shrugged in that way Italians have when they’re sure the point they’re making is the only correct one. He was rewarded with a dirty look for his trouble.
     
    Nodding her thanks at Tony for his support, Laurel barely masked her annoyance as she glanced at Jenna then at Aaron, who was sitting quietly, taking in the conversation. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I didn’t imagine anything. It was Jeff Sargasso whom I saw this morning. I know I’m right about this.”
     
    And so it had gone, until finally exhausted, they’d all said goodnight, and Aaron and Laurel had walked back to their room in stony silence.
     
    The Danieli was one of Laurel’s favorite hotels. Only steps away from the Piazza San Marco, it was one of the city’s most lavish and romantic palazzi.
     
    Entering its beautifully restored gilt and marble lobby always made Laurel feel like Cinderella, stepping into a fairy tale. But even its magical elegance hadn’t been able to dispel the dark thoughts that had plagued her since leaving Florence. Sighing, she slipped from under the comforter and psyched herself to start her day. She’d wait for Aaron to return and allow him to take her to breakfast and make up