Page 65 of The Fall Affair

I held my breath as she lifted her hand and knocked, then pushed the door open. Completely unaware that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the receptionist held her hand out for me to enter the office.

Oh God. This is it.

Every instinct screamed to get the hell out of there, yet somehow, I forced one foot in front of the other, terrified, but I was too far into this to go back now.

The woman behind the desk stood as I stepped in, and my stomach dropped. She looked older than I’d expected, older than her twenty-seven years. Her dark hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail, and a stylish navy-blue suit hugged her shoulders.

“Buongiorno.” She smiled and came around her desk, extending her hand. “Ms. Norman?”

I couldn’t breathe. My palms were slick, and it felt like she could hear my heart pounding inside my chest. Yet somehow, I had the good sense to wipe my hand on my pants before putting it in hers. “Uh, hello.”

She gestured to the guest chairs. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

I had no idea how the hell I was going to sit down and act normal, but I managed to plant my ass on the seat. One step at a time.

Camilla opened her desk drawer and took out a legal pad and pen, setting both on the desk in front of her before folding her hands.

She smiled. “You speak Inglese. Are you British?”

I shook my head, studying her face. “American.” She had my dad’s brown eyes and straight nose, and if it were possible, that freaked me out even more.

“Ah. So sked-jool and not shed-yool.”

My brain seemed to be processing everything she said on a ten-second delay, so there was an awkward silence while she waited for my response. Eventually I nodded. “Yes, I say schedule.”

She gave me a practiced smile—one I’d given my own clients a thousand times when the jury was still out on whether they had any brains—then picked up the pen and clicked the top. “So, what brings you to a lawyer in Italy?”

Morbid curiosity? Toxic indulgence? Stupidity? “I’m…” Oh God. What was the reason I made up for this appointment? Panic washed over me as I stared blankly at the woman.

Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head. “The intake form mentioned something about a business?”

Oh! Yes! That was it. My fake business. I nodded. “I’m going to be opening a winery.”

She jotted something down. “Very nice. And it’s here in Southern Italy, I assume?”

I shook my head. “It’s actually a few hours north of here in Tuscany.”

“What city, exactly?”

“Montepulciano.”

Camilla looked up. “Montepulciano?”

Shit. I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve picked a different village, not the one my father was from—our father. But it was too late, so all I could do was nod.

My half sister’s eyes moved over my face, lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. I was relieved when she went back to writing on her pad.

“Are you opening this business alone? Or will there be others involved?”

“I’ll have one partner.”

“And their name?”

Shit. I drew a blank trying to make up an Italian-sounding name. The delay caused her to lift her eyes and watch me again.

“Matteo Lucchese.”

“What percentage will each of you own?”