Chapter 13

With my arms stretched across the doorway, I stared down at the intriguing Antonella, my bride's sister. Tilting my head to the side as I carefully observed her response, I said, "I'm on to you."

Her body started as she immediately lowered her head, breaking eye contact. "I don't know what you mean."

I stepped into the beautiful lemon grove. There were at least fifty lemon trees with low hanging, glossy, green-leafed branches, enclosed within an ancient rock wall. Judging by their height, the trees were at least two generations old, if not older. It gave the atmosphere a secluded, timeless feel.

My arm stretched up to rub a smooth leaf between my thumb and forefinger. "Yes, you do."

Keeping her face averted, she tried to move past me. "I need to get back inside."

I blocked her path again. "Not until we talk."

She backed up a step and turned. "You only have a moment before my father starts to worry."

I laughed. From what I had already seen, she and Antonia could self-combust at that table and the only thing their father would notice would be the annoying cinders falling into his drink.

At the sharp turn of her head and glare, I fisted my hand and pretended to clear my throat. "I'll get to the point, then. You're playing a dangerous game."

Her slim shoulders stiffened before she ducked under a branch and moved deeper into the grove. "I'm playing no game."

It took very little effort to follow her lithe form and cream-colored dress as she weaved among the lemon tree trunks. "I see you and Antonia share the same passing interest in the truth."

She paused and turned to face me, a flush rising in her cheeks. "That is not true. I'm nothing like my sister."

The vehemence of her response gave me pause. Could I be mistaken about her motives?

My shoes crunched over the mixture of white gravel and crushed seashells that made up the narrow, winding paths through the tiny orchard. To re-establish a connection, I said, "You're right. I misspoke. I'm well aware of your differing accomplishments. In fact, I've heard a great deal about your superior musical abilities. I'm looking forward to hearing you play."

After casting me a sour look that would have rivaled the ripening juices in the yellow fruit clinging to the surrounding branches, she continued to press deeper into the grove. "There is no need to patronize me or kiss my ass, Signore Cavalieri. It is my father you need to impress, not me. I'm not involved."

"But you disapprove."

"I have done nothing to indicate I have an opinion either way."

My lips quirked upward. I had interrogated Western European spies who were less cagey.

Observing a slight break in the trees, I took advantage of the clearing and circled around to cut her off higher up the path. "As much as I hate to disagree with a beautiful woman… we both know you are lying. Or should I say, being less than forthcoming?"

She shifted to the left.

I stepped to the right, blocking her.

She shifted back to the right.

I shifted to my left.

With a frustrated sigh, she finally looked up at me. "You're making a mistake."

My brow lowered.

"Get back on your knees," I commanded.

"No! You have to stop! You're making a mistake."

I then pushed my fingers between her legs, feeling her tight, clenching heat.

"Say that again," I ordered.

Her large, chocolate-brown eyes searched my face before she cleared her throat and said again, this time softer and lower. "You're making a mistake."

Despite her attempt to hide it, I had no doubt it was the same voice as last night.

Fuck. Wait. No.

The idea was highly improbable.

Everything I had learned about Antonia's twin sister argued against the preposterous notion that it was Antonella and not Antonia I took to my boat last night… that I disciplined last night before shoving my cock down her throat.

Regardless of their being twins, clearly, their close relation as sisters meant they had similar speech patterns, turns of phrase, and tone.

My original theory that she was deliberately trying to sabotage my arranged marriage because she didn't want her twin sister to move to the other side of Italy was far more plausible and realistic.

My hands wrapped around the gnarled branches on either side of her head, forcing her to back up a step and press her body along the trunk. "I don't make mistakes."

Her chin jutted out. "Spoken like a man."

I gave a firm nod. "At least a confident one."

"One person's confidence is another's arrogance."

"I take it you don't share your sister's appreciation for the opposite sex?"

"I have yet to find one worthy of my regard."

She might as well have stepped back in time and been Katherina saucily warning my Petruchio of her waspish sting.

I leaned forward. The scent of her perfume caught on the evening breeze. Fresh-cut green grass, a hint of saltwater and verbena. Same as the perfume Antonia was wearing last night, and vastly different from the cloying rose, ylang-ylang, and bergamot fragrance she was wearing now.

The perfume embodied the dual personalities of both women.

Antonella, fresh and innocent, with a melancholy sweetness about her.

Antonia, flagrant sex-on-a-stick, sweaty bodies, and hedonism.

Of course, she put on quite the innocent performance last night. Perhaps that was why Antonia wore her sister Antonella's perfume. I had already noticed her studious attention to detail when playing the part of virginal ingenue. She found inspiration nearby. Clearly Antonia was mimicking her sister.

My gaze drifted to her mouth. It shouldn't have. It was wrong. I definitely should show more discipline, especially toward my future little sister-in-law.

Still, Antonella had the most adorable mouth. Pink and full, with a small Cupid's bow indentation over the top lip. She only wore what looked like a simple neutral gloss which enhanced her lips' natural blush tone.

The tightness I had felt earlier suffering through that terrible dinner returned when I thought of the thick coating of red matte lipstick on Antonia's lips. It was so heavy it formed a ridge down the center of her bottom lip and often smeared over her teeth.

Again, I thought of last night, when Antonia was mimicking her sister and wore only a sheer gloss over her lips. While it was clearly an act on her part, I wished it were real.

Wished I was at least marrying the sweetly innocent sister with the sharp wit.

Instead of the sharply experienced sister with the dull intellect.

It wasn't possible, of course. For the same reason, Antonella needed to stop her dangerous interference.

"Perhaps that will change when you are in Abruzzo."

Her eyes widened and she lowered her arms to grip the trunk of the tree behind her, as if to steady herself. "Abruzzo? Why would I be going to Abruzzo?"

"That is why you are subtly interfering with the marriage your father arranged for your sister with those poisoned darts about the Cavalieris, is it not? Because you don't want her to move so far away from you. I came out here to tell you that I would be more than happy to welcome you into our home."

She snorted. "I just bet you would. I'll remind you again. I'm nothing like my sister."

Too late, I realized how lascivious my offer sounded. "You have my word that my offer, and my intentions, are honorable."

Her arms crossed over her middle, a defensive sign of unease. "Your word means nothing to me, Signore Cavalieri."

"Matteo."

"What?"

"My name is Matteo. If I'm to be your brother, I'd prefer you use it."

"No, thank you."

I took a step closer. "You used it at dinner."

She inhaled sharply. "My mistake. It won't happen again."

I was enjoying this cat-and-mouse game with her far too much. "I'm going to have to insist that you do."

She rolled her eyes before lowering her gaze. "Fine."

"Say it."

She raised her head to me again. "Say it?"

"My name. I want to hear you say it."

This was a dangerous game, and Dante's warning thrummed in my head.

Stay away from the sister. Focus on your bride.

I now knew why he had issued such a stark warning.

The sister was enchanting, especially when confronted with the brute crassness of her twin. Between her engaging conversation at dinner, the serene, almost sorrowful, way she carried herself, and her witty banter now, I was finding my bride's sister extremely intriguing. I couldn't resist teasing her, just a little bit.

She licked her lips, and my traitorous cock hardened.

"Matteo."

Fuck. My cock lengthened further.

It's fine.

As long as I didnt touch her, I was still at least in the realm of respectable behavior.

My thoughts, on the other hand…

She continued. "You are mistak—you're wrong. I have no desire to follow my sister to Abruzzo. I just know what she's like and doubt she will be happy there."

"I agree."

"You agree?" She stepped forward, almost brushing my chest. "Then why not call off this ridiculous wedding proposal?"

"Not an option. There are elements at play."

"Now who is playing games?"

I reached out and cupped her chin before she had a chance to lower her head and hide her expression from me. "Listen to me, you need to stop interfering. Now."

My jaw clenched as I ruthlessly attempted to ignore the shiver that coursed over her body at both my touch and commanding tone. The Dom in me rose up. Literally.

Fuck, she'd be absolute perfection as a submissive. A concept that would probably send her sheltered life into a tailspin as she clutched her pearls. Still… Again, my thoughts betrayed my dubious but honorable intentions.

Ignoring the pulsing need in my cock, I focused on the matter at hand. "You need to trust that I am what's best for your sister right now. Her troublemaking is coming to a head. She needs to get out of Sicily."

Her head jerked to the side as she tried to loosen my grasp.

It didn't work.

I shifted my hand to wrap it around the side of her neck to hold her steady.

Her soft brown eyes darkened to a smoldering black. "Says you. And what? You're doing this out of the kindness of your heart? What do you get out of this? I know it's not money. You have plenty of that, or are you one of those men where more is never enough?"

More would never be enough of her.

With an internal curse, I pushed the treacherous thought away but not before tempting the devil by leaning in close to whisper in her ear, once more inhaling her sweet fragrance. "I always want more, especially if it gives me pleasure."

This time, she broke free.

Throwing her body weight backward, she pitched to the side to avoid the tree trunk before stumbling onto the gravel path. Her hand flew to her head as she swayed, seemingly disoriented by the sudden movement, before her ankle bent inward on the loose and slippery seashells as she tried to take another step.

I caught her before she fell. "Dammit. When was the last time you ate? I know it wasn't at dinner."

She slowly shook her head. "I can't remember. It doesn't matter. I'm fine."

After swinging her up into my arms, I growled, "I'll be the judge of that."

Surveying the garden, I spotted an ornate, whitewashed gazebo tucked among the trees and headed for it.