Deception of the Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

all. She could do it, no problem. The accolades that Pete would receive if his book deal with Spitieri came through were sure to rub off some glory on her career as well. She was ready for anything.

Two
    Jon woke up with a pounding headache. He had had a nightmare, the usual one. He had been in the desert again. The dusty road wound like a ribbon between two steep hills covered with rubble and a few dry bushes. He heard the convoy of trucks approach, but his lead-heavy legs made moving away from their path impossible. He knew he was supposed to warn them. He tried to wave and yell, but nothing happened. He saw the trucks come closer, the noise of their engines echoing between the steep sides. He had to do something before everything fell apart. Only he couldn’t. Try as he might, he couldn’t move a finger.
    The first truck was almost there, passing one of the larger boulders littering the side of the road. He knew what would happen next. It wasn’t the first time he had this nightmare, after all. Still, the explosion felt just as overpowering and horrid as the first time. He saw the truck blow into a ball of fire. The whirring sound of metal being torn apart grated along his nerve endings in torture that brought tears to his eyes. The other trucks followed, too close to escape the explosion. Soon the whole canyon was hidden in a thick wall of smoke and fire. The smell of oil, hot metal, and blood made him sick. The scent of blood was the worst. Cloyingly sweet and intense, it found him and penetrated his skin, filling him up until he saw nothing but red, his whole body shaking in terror. He heard a thud and looked down. At his feet was a dark shape, half hidden in the long wafts of smoke that swirled around him and made seeing clearly impossible.
    Jon bent lower, unable to resist the urge to see what it was, even though he already knew. Still he looked on, his eyes wide open and tearing up from the biting smoke. He looked into the face of a dead man, his pale skin, closed eyes, and half open mouth achingly familiar. Jon felt a yell rising deep inside him, somewhere in the very core of his miserable, shivering self. His mouth opened to let it out before he shattered into million pieces. And then he woke up.
    His alarm clock didn’t go off, again. For a second, he lay disoriented, his body still tense from the terror of his nightmare. As seconds passed, reality started to set in, reminding him of yesterday’s meeting with Bernard and the team. He recalled the details, his sleep-hazed mind focusing more and more with each passing second. His flight to Rome was booked for that morning. He had very little time if he didn’t want to miss his plane. Nightmare or no nightmare, Bernard would strangle him with bare hands if he happened to oversleep on the most important day in weeks, if not months. Jon tried to stretch to peek at his alarm clock. His temples throbbed in protest, and he grimaced. His dismay deepened when he realized there was no alarm clock on the night table. Actually, there was no night table at all. His eyes came to rest on a totally unfamiliar landscape. The pink and white striped wallpaper and large window draped with magenta curtains were certainly not things he remembered having in his rented place here in New York. He blinked in surprise, wondering momentarily if he’d sleepwalked into his neighbors’ apartment. It was unlikely, but not impossible. Sitting up and ignoring the thudding pulse in his head, he looked around, the fog of sleepiness lifting just enough to make him finally realize what happened.
    Yesterday’s dinner came back to his mind , and his mood worsened. He didn’t really need to look back to the bed to know what, or rather whom, he’d find there. Of course, she was there. Curled on her side, her glorious red hair spread on the pillow in waves of pure fire, Daphne slept peacefully. Her alabaster arm was a stark contrast with the black silk sheets. He let his gaze travel lower, where