Blood & Lies (A Twisted Duet Book 1) Read online

  Carlo and I were the responsible ones, the ones who understood that the family name was more important than anything. But even though I understood the need for loyalty toward my father and everything he represented, I also understood Vico’s need to fulfill his own desires. God knows I had desires of my own—dark, wicked desires that stirred inside me. I just didn’t flaunt them in front of everyone like Vico did. I didn’t bring my sordid affairs out into the light. Instead I kept them hidden in the dark until the shadows could peel away the façade I carried while I smiled at my mother and father, pretending to be what they so desperately wanted me to be…the perfect Fattore—just like Carlo.

  Vico backed down, his fists still clenched at his sides.

  I straightened then pulled my vomit-covered jacket off my shoulders and walked to the door. “I need a shower. Stay here, and don’t take your eyes off that monitor. And call Doc if she starts throwing up again.”

  Vico nodded, but there wasn’t even the tiniest hint of warmth in his eyes while he stared at me. That was okay though. Our entire relationship had always been of love and hate. Vico and I never really connected—not like Carlo and I had, which was to be expected of identical twins. Carlo and I always knew what the other was thinking, knew exactly what the other one wanted to say before we even said it. Call it twin telepathy. Call it a freak show. Call it whatever the fuck you want, but the fact remained that nothing could have compared to the bond I shared with Carlo. But that bond was now broken, destroyed by death—by the damn woman currently unconscious on the other side of that wall. And because of that bond no longer existing, I no longer had any light left inside me. Because of the burden that now weighed heavily on my back, I had to succumb to the darkness. But I preferred it that way. Darkness took away one’s ability to feel, and for me to be able to pull this off I needed to be the soulless bastard that I had become.

  2

  TATUM

  Either I had the worst hangover of my life, or I was on the verge of dying. Only a large amount of alcohol or death could make a person feel this bad. My head was pounding, the sound of my heartbeat hammering against my skull. Nausea churned in the pit of my stomach causing me to take small, shallow breaths. I was afraid that even breathing too fast would make me throw up—violently.

  My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth and my throat felt like I swallowed sand. It was scratchy and dry and I was pretty sure my mouth had lost its ability to produce even the tiniest amount of saliva. Basically, I felt like crap.

  I moved my tongue trying to get some relief from the sandpaper stuck in my mouth, and that’s when I realized why I hadn’t been swallowing. My mouth tasted like ass. Disgusting, vile ass that threatened to feed the already raging nausea in my gut.

  I tried opening my eyes, but a sudden feeling of dread settled over me making my skin crawl. The way my body ached all over screamed that something bad happened—something real bad. For a few seconds longer I kept my eyes closed, hoping that the fear pulsing through my veins was just the remnants of a bad nightmare. But unfortunately, the second I opened my eyes and stared at the unfamiliar gray concrete wall in front of me I knew that this wasn’t just a nightmare, this was reality.

  Ice cold dread slowly started to move through me, all the way up my legs, my spine, until it reached the back of my neck. I was suddenly hyper aware of the feeling of unfamiliar sheets against my skin, and when I pushed myself up I stared with horror at the old, brown sheets beneath me. These were definitely not the three hundred dollar silk sheets I had on my bed back at my apartment.

  I grabbed ahold of the cotton fabric and tightened my fist while I tried my best to remember what happened, how I got here—wherever here was. Then I noticed with horror what I was wearing—an old yellowed rag that seemed like it had once been a nightgown, like fifty years ago. Where were my clothes?

  “Welcome to Hell...”

  That voice resonated through my mind like thunder, together with the picture of dark eyes that resembled black holes of hate. And when I closed my eyes I saw the familiar smile I had missed so much the last few months. But how…

  Could it be him? After all this time, could it really be him?

  “Carlo,” I whispered, but somehow I wasn’t convinced. I remembered Carlo’s smile being light and kind, not dark and wicked. It just couldn’t be him.

  With narrowed eyes I scanned across the room. Concrete walls decorated with nothing—not even a trace of paint—surrounded me. It felt cold and damp and empty. Besides the bed and a chair in the corner, there was nothing else in the room. It was grim and completely dismal, which did nothing to ease the panic that rapidly rose inside my chest.

  My gaze darted up to the wall and what sounded like air rapidly escaping a tube came from the other side of the room. A piece of the concrete wall moved, and a hidden door opened. That door was so well hidden I never would have known that it was there if it hadn’t opened right before my eyes.

  Painful knots slowly started twisting inside my gut as my heart started hammering behind my ribs. The softness of the sheets felt like gravel against my skin as I moved up the bed, pushing my back against the headboard. Adrenaline started to surge through my veins as I watched the door open. It was when I saw who stood on the other side of the door that I stopped breathing.

  “Carlo?”

  He smiled, and for a split second hope flared inside my chest like a thousand fireworks.

  He didn’t leave.

  It has been so long, yet I never could forget that face. I didn’t think I ever would. That was the face that haunted my dreams, my thoughts, my desires for so damn long. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on without him.

  “Carlo, what…”

  But then he stepped forward and I knew something wasn’t right. The eyes of the man before me were dark orbs of hate, and not the warm chocolate eyes I remembered. These were not the brown eyes that had the power to captivate me with a single glance, making me forget everything bad in life. No. These eyes had the exact opposite effect.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, my back now one with the headboard, the wood crushing against my spine.

  With his hands clutching a box he moved, stepping right under the light, and I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped me in a huff as I took in his features. His blue-black hair was neatly cut at the sides and down the back, yet kept a little longer on top—exactly as I remembered. His sturdy, square jawline was dark with the outline of a five o’clock shadow. The Carlo I remembered was clean shaven to perfection, with absolutely no facial hair outlining those invitingly full lips.

  The thick dark eyebrows that framed his eyes were slightly curved up in what I could only assume was amusement. What is going on?

  Then I noticed a crescent-shaped scar that ran through the corner of his eyebrow, curling around his right eye and disappearing as it reached his cheek.

  Carlo didn’t have such a prominent scar. A scar like that wasn’t something anyone could have missed.

  “Hello, Tatum.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a wicked smile.

  A cold shiver ran up my spine at the sound of his voice. It was the same low, husky voice that had whispered sweet, tantalizing words into my ear once. When I heard that voice for the first time, I knew it was a voice I would never be able to forget.

  “What is going on?” I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Apart from the scar and the darkness looming in his eyes, he was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen—exactly like I remembered him...Carlo.

  “First of all, let me introduce myself.” He placed the box on the bed before holding out his right hand.

  I glanced down at his hand before looking back up at his face. “Why would you want to introduce yourself? I already know who you are.”

  He smiled at me like he was about to tell me something that would change my life forever, like he was going to enjoy whatever reaction I was about to give.

  “You don’t know me, Miss Linscott.” He placed his arm back at
his side.

  I narrowed my eyes, furrowing my brows as I continued to stare at him with confusion. How could he say that I didn’t know him when in fact I knew him so, so well? He’s the man that broke my heart—the man that left without a word, leaving me to wallow in my own heartbreak without as much as a goddamn explanation.

  Anger bubbled like toxic lava inside my veins, thinking about the hurt he had caused me. “You’re the man that broke my fucking heart in two, Carlo.”

  He continued to smile. “That’s the thing. I’m not Carlo.”

  I snorted. “Quit your games, Carlo. You disappear off the face of the Earth, and then suddenly reappear—having me kidnapped by the way.”

  He stepped closer, and the way his eyes darkened, the cold threat exuding out of him like rays of malevolence had every instinct inside me screaming for me to run, to fight, to do anything in order to survive whatever was about to happen next.

  “My name is Castello. Castello Fattore.” He leaned closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “And Carlo was my twin brother.”

  A gasp slipped out of my mouth while I continued to stare into his dark eyes. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. The dark depths of his black eyes had me entranced along with the revelation that just shook me straight through my soul.

  He slanted his head to the side. “What’s the matter, Tatum? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I…Is this some sort of joke?” My voice came out as nothing more than a whisper, lacking even the tiniest amount of confidence.

  “Believe me, Miss Linscott, this is not a joke.”

  Miss Linscott. Carlo never would have called me that. He knew how much I hated my surname, how much I loathed being so formally addressed. And the way this man said it was like my surname left a bitter taste in his mouth, bitterness that came all the way from the pit of his stomach. It scared me.

  I swallowed hard. “What is going on?”

  He shrugged, still holding on to his very nonchalant smile. “I’m merely trying to be courteous by introducing myself as Carlo’s twin brother.”

  I studied his face, scrutinizing every contour, every inch…his eyes. And then I noticed it. Apart from the scar, the pupil of his one eye was elongated. It was easy to miss since his irises were already dark, but I saw it…and Carlo didn’t have that.

  I sucked in a breath, and his smile widened.

  “It’s the eye, isn’t it?” He touched the scar on his face. “Usually it’s the scar, but you doubted even that, such a prominent sign…until you saw the tiniest defect in my eye. A defect my twin brother didn’t have.”

  I glanced down unable to stare at him any longer. “I didn’t…he never…” I looked back up at him. “Carlo never told me he had a twin brother.”

  He straightened, his eyes seeming like they were mocking me. “Like you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t.” I shook my head. “I didn’t know Carlo had a twin brother.”

  The next thing I knew he had his hand wrapped around my neck, gripping it so tight I could hardly breathe while he pushed my head painfully hard against the headboard. He brought his face inches from mine and I could feel his hate as I stared into his eyes. I felt every ounce of his anger, his loathing…of me.

  “Do not play games with me, Miss Linscott.”

  “I’m not. I swear to God I didn’t know.” I pinched my eyes closed unable to look into the darkness of his soul, feeling how his grip tightened around my throat little by little.

  “You knew he was a Fattore, how could you not know he had a twin brother?”

  “He told me…” I swallowed hard trying to suck in a breath against the strain of his grip. “Carlo told me his surname was Mancini.”

  Immediately Castello let go of my throat and stepped back. I gasped and coughed, rubbing at the ache around my neck.

  “You’re lying,” he said simply.

  “No, I’m not. His name is Carlo Mancini.”

  He stiffened, his eyebrows slanted inward. “Is? What do you mean is?”

  “His name is Carlo Mancini, not Fattore.”

  For a few seconds—which seemed like hours—he just stared at me like he was trying to determine whether I was crazy or not. Maybe I was. If someone had asked me yesterday whether I was crazy or not I’d answer a very confident no to that question. But right now, as I stared at a man with the freakiest resemblance to Carlo I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  “Nice try, Miss Linscott.” He turned around, grabbed the only chair in the room, pulled it closer and sat down, his stare pinning me in place. “I can see that your family taught you well.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, or what the hell is going on.” A tear slipped down my cheek as the panic inside me grew stronger and stronger.

  He leaned back, clasping his hands in front of him. “I see you’re playing the ignorant card. Do you really think that’s going to work with me?”

  “I’m not playing any damn card. I really don’t have a clue who you are, or why I’m even here.”

  “I already told you, I’m Carlo’s twin brother.”

  “And I already told you that his surname isn’t Fattore.”

  “There you go with the isn’t again.” He sighed before shifting in his seat, placing his elbows on his knees. “I’ll give you an early warning, Miss Linscott,”—he shrugged—“to help make this entire process a little less painful than it’s already going to be for you. I’m not well-known for my patience, and my level of tolerance for bullshit is really, really low. So I suggest you cut the crap and forget about fooling me with your ignorance.”

  I shook my head as more tears came running down my cheeks. “Please, I’m telling you the truth. I really don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is that Carlo told me his surname was Mancini, and he never mentioned a twin brother.”

  His eyes narrowed and his scrutinizing gaze swept over my face. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “You’re in quite the predicament, Miss Linscott. Humanity has a way to make us do whatever we need to in order to survive…which includes lying.”

  I wiped away strands of hair that were stuck to my face as my desperation started to burn a hole inside my chest. “I’m not lying,” I whispered, and then started sobbing. “I really don’t know what you want from me. What am I doing here?”

  Abruptly he jerked up with such force the chair skidded across the floor and tumbled over.

  “You are here because you couldn’t keep your filthy hands off my brother.” The deep, hard sound of his voice made me flinch, more tears streaming down my face. “You are here because your father thinks he can play God with people’s lives and get away with it. You are here because someone needs to fucking pay for what has been taken from me and my family. And that, Miss Linscott, will have to be you.”

  “Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Cut the crap. Stop playing fucking games!”

  “I’m not. I’m not playing games.” Oh God, it felt like I was about to throw up while I choked on my own tears.

  With wild eyes and a furious glare, he placed his hands on the bed leaning closer to me before he started to yell, “You fucking killed my brother! Because of you my family and I had to bury Carlo!”

  My heart stopped. It stopped and all the life drained out of me within a split second. I couldn’t even comprehend what I just heard. The words that came out of his mouth made absolutely no sense to me and it was like my mind just came to a screeching halt.

  “What do you mean I killed your brother?” My voice was so damn soft I could hardly hear myself.

  “You weren’t the one to pull the trigger, but you might as well have.”

  “No…no”—I looked down at the bed, confusion sweeping through my mind—“you’re wrong.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I looked back up at him. “You’re wrong. He’s not dead.”

  “Then who the fuck did I bury seven
months ago, huh?”

  All I could do was shake my head, thinking about the day Carlo never showed up for our date. It never once crossed my mind that something might have happened to him. After all, we were only together for a little less than two months, so I assumed after he disappeared and disconnected his phone he had moved on. It was then that I realized I didn’t know anything about his family other than that he was from Italy and his parents owned a vineyard there. So to think that he went back to Italy, to his home without me was a natural conclusion to make. But never, not once did I think he was dead.

  I lifted my head to look at him. “Please tell me you’re lying and that this is all just some sick joke?”

  Castello straightened, but nothing on his face told me that he was anything less than serious.

  “Please,” I started and moved forward closer toward him on my knees. “Please tell me Carlo isn’t dead.”

  He just stared at me. He didn’t even goddamn blink. The expression on his face was unreadable and it scared me—it terrified me, chilling every bone in my body. I was so desperate for him to tell me this was all just a twisted game that I grabbed his hand in mine. “Castello, please, tell me it’s not true.”

  As if my touch had burned him, he jerked his hand out of mine and stepped back suddenly looking bewildered and confused.

  “You”—he pointed at me while he kept on walking backward—“you better cut your bullshit right now, or I swear to God you will regret it.”

  “I’m not—”

  But he stepped out of the room and the door slammed shut before I could finish my sentence. I didn’t even try to go after him, or to escape for that matter. My entire body was frozen, my insides completely numb and void of everything. It’s like my mind just went blank, every emotion drained from my soul.

  Carlo, dead? How could that be? After all these months I thought…I thought…