Chapter 14

Isquirmed in his embrace. "Let me go!"

His intense gaze stared down at me. "It is uncanny how much you and your sister sound alike."

It would poke the bear to say something.

I knew I should keep my mouth shut.

That he hadn't recognized me yet made me bold. Too bold.

"Are you saying my sister has also screamed at you to let her go?"

I held my breath with barely concealed curiosity over his response.

He winked. "A gentleman never tells but I will say this, if she did, that's not what she was screaming later."

My cheeks burned.

Well, ask a stupid question…

My only consolation was he would probably think it was shyness at his crass talk and not humiliating memories of my wanton display on his boat last night.

"You're disgusting."

"That's not what she said."

With narrowed eyes, I fired back. "Actually, that is exactly what I said to"—I bit my lip—"what I imagined she said."

He swung me around so he could push open the gazebo door with his back, then carried me inside. After placing me on the cushioned side bench which ran around the octagon-shaped inside perimeter, he surveyed the space.

I crossed my arms over my middle and resisted the urge to dive for my cello as if I were protecting my child from harm. It was oddly threatening to have him here, inside my private sanctuary.

Having any man here really, but in particular, him.

Matteo Cavalieri exuded a dark energy about him. I wasn't the least bit fooled by the casual demeanor and dry wit. They were all deflections, reflections in a warped mirror. It was what he wanted people to see.

That was one perk of being a wallflower, of being the shy sister who was often ignored. I had honed my skills in observing people and their interactions from the sideline.

That was also how I learned of my father's involvement in my mother's disappearance.

People had a way of forgetting I was nearby.

With Matteo, the indications were fleeting. The emotions played across his face like the shadows of the swiftly moving clouds above; intense and almost sinister one moment, all sunshine and laughter the next. But it was there. It was in the tension in his jaw when someone said something he didn't like. In the covert way he clenched his fist down at his side. The way his lips tightened as if he were biting off the words he wanted to say.

He wanted others to be lulled into a false sense of security at his casual, easygoing attitude, and in the half-interested, almost bored way he contributed to the conversation when it turned to mafia business and local politics.

After all, it was the threat you failed to anticipate that was the deadliest.

It fascinated me that the others around him didn't seem to pick up on the signs. The glaring, flapping red flags that Matteo Cavalieri was a dangerous man to cross.

He may have the others fooled, but not me.

Matteo crossed to a small cupboard above a shelf of crystal bird figurines that were my mothers, which I rescued from my father's wrath when I was a teenager. "Where do you keep it?"

I leaned to my side to pull my dress out from under my hips so I could yank it as far down as possible over my knees. "Keep what?"

"Your stash of snacks. You have to keep some snacks out here."

My fingers curled in the fabric of my skirt. Lucky guess. Lifting my chin, I said, "As a matter of fact, I don't keep any?—"

"Here they are," he called out triumphantly after taking only two seconds to correctly theorize I hid my snacks in the old oil can tucked into the back of the cupboard.

Damn him.

He popped open the improvised lid and pulled out one of the NucatuliEoliani cookies I had squirreled away from Marias Christmas baking. The decorative cookies filled with mandarin liqueur, almond paste, and cinnamon stuffing were my favorite.

Stepping up to me, he held out a cookie. "Eat."

My mouth watered at the thought of the rich, buttery, sweet pastry and spicy filling. Tightening my stomach muscles so it wouldn't growl, I shook my head. "I'm really not hungry. Too full from dinner. Speaking of which, the others, especially my father, will wonder where we are. I don't want any hints of impropriety."

"You father doesn't give a damn where you are. He is with his cronies in the billiards room discussing business, and your sister snuck away with that asshole Alessio."

My back straightened. "I'm sure it's not what you think."

"And I'm equally certain it is exactly what I think. But your sister is my problem for later. Right now, my concern is with you. He tempted me with the cookie again. You're lying about dinner. Now eat."

I pulled my lips through my teeth and turned my head.

He sighed. "Have it your way. But remember, I tried to be a gentleman about this." He threw the cookie back in the can and tossed it aside.

Then, before I could react, he swooped down and pulled me into his arms before lifting me high and taking my place on the cushioned seat. He then settled me on his lap.

Immediately, I tried to jump off, but his arm tightened around my lower back. His fingertips dug into my hip.

Just like last night.

Stop thinking about last night!

He retrieved the cookie and broke it in half. The scent of orange zest and cinnamon permeated the air as he placed one half between his lips and chewed. "Mmmm. I can see why you like these. The pastry is almost creamy, and the filling has just the right amount of sweetness with only a hint of dark molasses."

My stomach growled. Gasping, I tightened my arms around my middle, praying he hadn't heard it.

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Gotcha."

He held the second half of the tempting cookie close to my lips. "Now be a good girl and open your mouth."

Sciatiri e matri!

The sharp sting when he pulled on my hair and growled, "Open your mouth, babygirl."

I swallowed, keeping my lips tightly closed.

He tightened the arm around my waist, forcing my shoulder against his chest. "If you don't obey me and open your mouth, I'll have no choice but to toss you over my knee and spank you like the bad girl you are being until you do."

My mouth opened on a gasp. "You wouldn't dare!"

Except, of course, he had dared. Last night.

My mind was too agitated to determine if it was better or worse that he had threatened my sister with the same punishment for disobedience last night. Although, strictly speaking, he threatened me.

Except, was it still only a threat if he actually went through with it?

Was he cheating on my sister if he now knowingly was trying the same punishment on me, even though he'd already done that move last night?

Or was it just part of his arrogant, domineering, entitled Cavalieri confidence to simply assume he had a right to order any woman within his reach about?

A stabbing pain increased in my temple as my round-robin thoughts brought on a headache, which wasn't helped by my low blood sugar and stress levels.

"Brava ragazza."

He pushed the sweet into my mouth.

Reflexively, my lips closed around his fingertip. The salty taste of his skin bringing back even more embarrassingly intimate memories.

I yanked my head back to remove his finger as I slowly chewed.

He watched me closely. "Now is not the time, but soon, you will explain to me why you are depriving your body of vital nutrients."

I swallowed. "I'm not your responsibility. What or how much I eat is none of your concern."

Something flashed across his eyes.

There it was! That fleeting glimmer of darkness. A sinister shadow.

He pushed his right hand into my hair, brushing the side of my neck with his wrist as his gaze never wavered from my mouth. "Buon Dio, donna. You shouldn't have said that."

My palms pushed against his chest as my eyes widened. "No! Wait! Don't!"

I was not strong enough to hold him back.

His mouth crashed down on mine. With a gentle yet persistent squeeze to my throat, he forced my lips open as his tongue thrust inside. He tasted like burnt sugar, butter, and red wine.

He pressed his palm between my shoulder blades, pulling me closer, his tongue ravaging my mouth.

At some point, my hands went from pushing against his chest to twisting into the lapels of his tuxedo dinner jacket.

He groaned against my mouth. "Fuck, you taste sweet. Good enough to eat."

His hand moved to the hem of my dress as he caressed the top of my thigh.

My inner thigh muscles clenched, and a surge of heat pooled low in my abdomen at just the thought of his fingers inside my pussy again.

His fingertips caressed my hip then teased the silk edge of my panties.

I moaned.

The arm against my back stiffened as his shoulders tightened right before he wrenched his head back. "Che due palle! Dammit."

He shifted me off his lap and furiously paced back and forth within the tight confines of the gazebo, like a panther caught in a cage. Running his hand through his hair, he cursed under his breath again before turning to me. "Please forgive me, Ella."

Falling to one knee before me, he grasped my hands in his.

For one incredulous moment, defying all common sense and reason, I thought he was going to propose marriage to me, renouncing any commitment to my selfish sister.

"That should have never happened. I don't know what came over me. There is something about you that pulled at me. A strange familiarity I can't explain."

I was right. This man was dangerously perceptive, like a poisonous snake just waiting to strike.

If I stayed here with him much longer, he would guess the truth.

I allowed my hair to cascade over my cheek as I turned my head away from him. Hiding my guilt behind a false veneer of maidenly outrage, I attempted to yank my hands out of his grasp. "I can. It's called I'm the twin sister of your fiancée."

He winced. "I know. Her not taking that commitment seriously yet is no excuse for me to behave in a similar manner. I know better. I'm deeply sorry for my transgression. You have my word it will never happen again."

His words sank in like a lead weight inside my chest.

He'd never kiss me again.

Never hold me.

Never stare into my eyes as if he were reading my soul.

It should be a good thing. So why did it hurt so badly?

"I won't ask you to keep this a secret. You have every right to?—"

"My sister doesn't need to know. No one needs to know."

If Fino came through and arrested my father soon, this would all be just a terrible memory.

A confusing, twisted, kinky as fuck, terrible memory.

He rose as I stood.

Right as I was about to turn and walk with as much dignity as I could muster through the door, he cupped my cheek again as he towered over me. "If the situation were different. If I had a choice?—"

My eyes flooded with tears. "Don't."

It was the story of my life. Always being looked upon as the poor man's version of my vivacious and fun-loving sister.

Even though I convinced myself I wouldn't want to change positions with her for the world. In fact, the very last thing Id want would be being forced to marry Matteo Cavalieri and yet…

It still hurt to be a mistake. Again.