Chapter 10

The hard slap across my face was a surprise, but not unexpected.

My father did his best talking with his fists.

He wagged his thick sausage finger in front of my nose. "After the stunt you pulled last night, I will tolerate no more sass from you. You will be at dinner to welcome your sister's fiancé and you better be on your best behavior."

Blinking back unshed tears, I nodded. "Yes, Father."

"You and your fucking sister are useless, just like your whore mother."

I swallowed past the bile in the back of my throat but remained silent. I knew better than to object. The last time I did was when I was fifteen, and all I got for it was three cracked ribs.

"The least you both can do is entertain my guests."

The bitter taste in my mouth increased.

I knew what he meant by entertain.

"Yes, Father."

After he stormed off, I walked softly down the terracotta-tiled hallway which stretched through the center of our villa. It was a trick I learned from my mother when she was still with us.

Always step lightly on the balls of your feet.

Never let the heels of your shoes clack against the hardened clay.

Noise was bad.

Noise alerted my father to where we were inside the villa.

Pulling open the glass lattice-window doors, I stepped outside into the lemon grove. Losing myself among the glossy, emerald-green citrus leaves, I inhaled the sweet fragrance of the zagara blooms mixed with the sharp citrus scent of the lemons.

As I ran my fingertip over the pocked smoothness of a lemon clinging to a nearby branch, I realized it would be harvested soon. My mother loved the lemon harvest.

I missed her.

I wished she was here now to give me advice. Her presence would have provided comfort, even though I could never confess what happened with Matteo last night.

Matteo Cavalieri.

My sister's unwanted fiancé.

That wasnt how I saw him anymore.

Last night I tossed and turned in my bed, plagued by dreams of a towering demon in a devil's mask. In my dream, he had a long black whip, and he used it to force me to dance among the flames of a raging fire until I burned to cinders.

I didn't need a degree in psychology to analyze that dream.

Crossing the gravel path, I opened the door to a small, enclosed gazebo nestled in the center of the lemon grove. Its white paint was chipping and the cushions on the wicker chairs and lounge inside had long since faded, but this was my happy place.

I pulled my cello out of the cupboard where I had locked it for safekeeping until I could get out here and sat down. Pulling the instrument close, I raised my bow and slowly began to play Chopin'sPrelude No. 4 in E Minor.

It was my favorite song to play when I was feeling moody or pensive. The minor key and simple yet solemn melody made it both beautiful and heart-wrenching.

I glided my bow over the cello strings to play the five-note melody over a series of downward-spiraling block chords, the longing and ache portrayed in the music matching my own tormented feelings.

What kind of evil person dreamed of her sister's fiancé?

A sharp, tightening pain in the center of my chest formed when I faced that I was lying even to my inner self.

I didn't just dream about Matteo Cavalieri.

I couldnt justify what I did last night, no matter how hard I tried. And I had tried!

Twisting myself every which way, coming up with every excuse I could think of.

I did it for my sister.

It wasn't my fault.

He forced me.

But always with the same result. Liar. Liar. Liar.

The only bright spot in my cloud of doom and gloom was that my sister had snuck in before my father noticed I was missing and passed out in her bed, completely drunk.

It was doubtful she remembered anything from last night.

I simply had to ensure that she and Matteo didnt have a chance to talk privately tonight.

If things went as planned, Fino would expose my father and the wedding would be canceled, keeping the truth hidden. Easy.

I sighed. My plan sounded like the terrible plot from a sitcom, and tonight's dinner would probably turn out as comically bad as any slapstick sketch.

I bowed a womp womp noise on my cello.

I set the instrument inside and returned to the villa, in search of caffeine.

My sister was in the kitchen eating a plate of spaghetti aglio olio e pepperoncino for breakfast or, more to the point, a late lunch. The starch, oil, garlic, and chili peppers made it one of her favorite hangover cures.

Without saying anything, I made two espressos, then reached under the cabinet behind the tins of olive oil for the bottle of Fernet-Branca my sister hid there. This was her second favorite cure. After adding a splash of the bitter amaro to her espresso, I returned the bottle to its hiding place. (Father didn't believe in letting women drink outside of a glass of wine with dinner.)

Crossing to the table, I placed it in front of her, then sat with mine.

She barely looked up as she slurped a forkful of pasta past her lips before muttering, "Grazie."

"Prego."

Finally, she looked at me. "Is that from Father?"

I raised my fingertips to my cheek, then nodded.

"Honestly, Ella. When will you learn to just stay out of his way?"

"Says the girl who's being forced into marriage by him?"

She shrugged. "You'll figure it out. Besides, I saw Matteo last night …"

"You did?" My stomach twisted as I braced for her response, watching her closely for any change in expression.

What would I do if she suddenly raged at me for fucking her fiancé?

I could argue the finer point that I didn't technically have sex with him—I only sucked his cock after he whipped me with his riding crop and made me come with the dildo handle.

Yeah, that was way better than if I had slept with him. Sigh.

She twisted a forkful of pasta against the bowl of her spoon. "He's pretty freaking sexy. All those muscles and those callused hands. Plus, you know how much I like my men tall. I bet his cock is huge."

I raised the back of my hand to my lips after choking on a sip of espresso. When I could breathe again, I struggled to keep my voice calm and casual. "You shouldn't say such things, Toni," I advised, using my nickname for her.

Antonia rolled her eyes. "God, you're such a fucking prude, Ella. Maybe if you were willing to put a piece of wood other than that stupid cello between your legs, you'd finally attract a man."

There were countless reasons why I shouldn't fire back that I had sucked her man's cock the night before. For starters, it would ruin everything. Not to mention that Matteo thought I was Antonia when he propositioned me. There was every reason to believe that if he knew I was the "boring" twin, he would have stayed away even if he wasn't about to become engaged to my sister.

Spinning my empty espresso cup between my hands, I said, "So, have you changed your mind about marrying him?"

If she said yes, I'd have to tell her about last night.

If she said no, I would keep my mouth shut … Ironically, what I should have done last night.

Focu ‘ranni.

She kicked back her espresso in one gulp. "I don't know. Maybe."

Dammit. What was I supposed to do with maybe?

"You honestly want to move to the middle of nowhere in Abruzzo or worse yet, up north in the Dolemites, where his father has a ranch?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Of course not. If we married, he'd have to move here, or maybe wed live in Rome."

"That's not going to happen, Antonia. His family has a massive winery business in Abruzzo. Everyone knows the Cavalieri men physically work at the winery along with their staff."

I sent a quick apology prayer to the Holy Madonna before pressing on. "And they expect their women to do the same. I heard the wives and girlfriends even slog through the muddy fields during harvest time."

She pulled a face and let her fork clatter to her plate. "Eww. But they have money!"

I collected her plate and espresso cup on my way to the kitchen sink. We only had a few more minutes before the staff arrived to start preparing for dinner.

We used to have live-in staff, but after Mother's disappearance, Father fired them all and initially refused to allow anyone in the house. He said it was because he couldn't stand the noise.

I knew what he really couldnt stand was having any witnesses to how he treated Antonia and me.

Any witnesses to what he?—

I shook the disturbing thought off as I ran her plate under the faucet. "So? Money isn't everything."

She tossed her napkin aside. "Speak for yourself. It should be illegal for a man who has billions to make his wife work. I'll just tell Matteo I refuse to work. That as his wife, it's his duty to provide for me and obey me and buy me whatever I want."

After finishing her plate, I leaned a hip against the counter. "Yup. That's exactly what it says in the Bible."

Another quick apology prayer.

"But … I heard the Cavalieri men are cruel to their women and really, really cheap! Matteo's cousin, Cesare, didn't even buy his fiancée a diamond engagement ring."

Antonia gasped and rose from her chair to approach me. "What?"

I nodded sagely. "It's true. He gave her a simple gold necklace. And not even a new one! He repaired some old zodiac charm she already owned."

Antonia placed her hand over her heart as if she had just heard he tortured puppies or kicked the homeless. "That is disgusting."

Eavesdropping on the staff while they gossiped after learning about Antonia possibly marrying into the Cavalieri family was paying off.

I continued. "It gets worse. You know the other cousin, Enzo, the one who's marrying his dead wife's sister?"

She nodded. "Yeah, the tall, brooding one."

"That's him. I heard he refuses to stay in this gorgeous mansion he owns overlooking the piazza and instead forces his fiancée, Bianca, to live in squalor in some ramshackle cottage in the middle of a dirt field."

She clutched her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."

I pushed my advantage. "And that is nothing compared to Matteo's father."

Her eyes widened. "I met him on Dante's yacht. His name is Benedict, I think. Insanely hot, but super scary."

"He forced a woman half his age to marry him after only knowing her for barely a week, and he now makes her spend night and day with him on his horse farm. Apparently, he wants to keep her pregnant with lots of kids, so she'll have no choice but to stay with him."

"A horse farm!"

"The horse farm Matteo will inherit one day as Benedict Cavalieri's heir."

Her lips thinned as her eyes narrowed. "I'm not living on some godforsaken horse farm!"

I patted her shoulder. "You might not have to … I'm sure you heard the rumors about what happened to Barone Cavalieri's first wife." I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Murdered by him. There were also rumors about Enzo's first wife who died mysteriously when she?—"

Antonia covered her ears. "Enough. I don't want to hear any more! Father can't be serious about forcing me to marry into this horrible family of arrogant, cheapskate murderers!"

My hands gripped her shoulders. "Toni, Father doesn't care about you. He cares about three things and three things only: his reputation, his greed, and his business. You have to trust me to get you out of this."

She stamped her foot. "When?"

I backed up. "I'm working on it."

"Well, work harder! Because I refuse to marry that man!" she said before storming off.

A bad deed done for good reasons wasn't really bad, right?

I was sure that was in the Bible somewhere.

No, my inner voice answered, but there is an ancient proverb. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Speaking of hell … I had a dinner with Matteo in a few hours to survive.