Chapter 17

With a clenched fist between my thighs, I wrenched down on the hem of Antonia's precious Prada dress. It was a waste of time. No matter how hard I pulled on the fabric, I would never get it below mid-thigh. At least I could raise the zipper over my breasts, so they weren't spilling out.

A small win.

As I stood just outside his closed office door, my father bellowed, "Antonia! Get your ass back here!"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before pushing the door open. "I'm here, Father."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Matteo standing near the bookshelves which lined the far wall but refused to make eye contact.

That didn't stop the heat of a humiliating blush from rising up my neck and over my cheeks.

There was also a travel-weary looking man in a slightly wrinkled linen blazer who was fussing with cleaning his glasses with an equally wrinkled handkerchief, and a very stylish, beautiful, older woman.

In her early forties, she was dressed to perfection in couture fashion. Everything about her was fabulously bold. From the large gold bangles that stretched up her forearm to the matching large gold hoop earrings to her glossy black hair with a single stylish streak of gray that was arranged in voluminous waves which seemed to defy gravity and the slightly drizzling weather.

Her style reflected precisely what I wished I could pull off, if I weren't so shy and hated attention. It was like she was the embodiment of my inner heroine. The confident queen all those memes and girl boss quotes on Instagram said was within us all, just waiting to break free.

If only. Perhaps one day.

When I finally broke free of my oppressive father, my selfish, demanding sister, and this horribly demoralizing household with all its memories of my ill-fated mother.

My father stormed toward me and grabbed my upper arm to haul me deeper into the room. "What the fuck took you so long to piss? Did you fall in, you good-for-nothing?—"

Matteo stepped forward. "I'm going to have to ask you not to finish that sentence, signore."

My father let go of my arm and turned his enormous belly toward Matteo. "That's Don Fichera to you. And I'll talk to my useless daughter however I please. I haven't sold her to you yet."

I winced.

The woman in gold glided between the two of them, effortlessly defusing the tension as she focused her attention on me. "Are one of you gentlemen going to introduce this stunning creature to me?"

Without thinking I turned my head to look behind me, alarmed to think Antonia had just entered the room despite our plan, before I realized she meant me.

The woman placed cool, manicured fingers on both of my cheeks. "Silly girl, of course I meant you, darling. You're simply breathtaking."

My eyes widened. She wasn't just graceful and beautiful, she was an enchantress with mystical powers, able to read minds.

"My name is Gabriella Sofia De Luca, but you may call me Aunt Gabriella."

Resisting the urge to curtsey, I swallowed past the dryness in my mouth and said softly, "My name is Antonella—I mean—Antonia Carlotta Fichera."

Crap! I needed to get it together and focus. Any more slipups like that and Matteo would know something was amiss. I wasn't worried about my father. He barely noticed my sister and me and absolutely not enough to notice if we switched places. You're both pain in the ass blondes just like your mother. That's all I need to know, he once said.

Aunt Gabriella looked over her shoulder at Matteo. "She is simply charming, my dear."

My chest warmed with pleasure at her approval before icy reality crept in as I remembered. She was talking about Antonia, not me. I doubted she would have said the same thing if I had strolled in wearing my boatneck black sweater and black capris with ballet slippers, with only a pale pink nude gloss over my lips.

Matteo stepped closer. "I agree, quite beautiful."

Civility demanded I look at him, despite every fiber of my being screaming not to. As I looked up, I was immediately caught by the hidden dark depths of his eyes. There always seemed to be a strange combination of dark humor and intelligence with a cold, sinister edge reflected in his penetrating gaze. As if he were not looking at my face, but staring past it and into my soul to learn secrets he could later weaponize against me.

It was all folly, of course. I was making Matteo out to be some kind of master spy using advance interrogation and psychological tricks like some Machiavellian tool to get what he wanted. Obviously, I had read too many romance novels.

I stopped myself from responding in my usual self-effacing way.

I was playing Antonia and if there was one thing my sister loved, it was a compliment.

After clearing my throat, I pasted a wide smile on my face as I attempted to flip my hair. "Of course I am."

The flirtatious movement was ruined when the ring Antonia gave me to wear got tangled in my overly teased hair. I hissed through my teeth at the sharp sting of pain in my scalp when I attempted to yank my hand free.

Matteo stepped close behind me. "Here, let me."

His warm fingers brushed the sensitive skin on the back of my neck as he gathered my hair into a loose ponytail at the nape.

A frisson of awareness coursed down my spine and my inner thighs clenched at the memory of him pulling my hair as he spanked me with his riding crop.

I jumped when his hand wrapped around my wrist.

"Easy," he whispered near my ear. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Not true. His statement was at the very least emotionally false.

A few gentle tugs, and my hair was no longer tangled around my ring. The very second I was free, I shifted to the side, away from him as I lowered my eyes. "Thank you."

His brow furrowed.

Dammit. He knew that was not how Antonia would have answered.

Searching my brain, I blurted out, "I would have hated to ruin my hair."

With that mostly nonsensical statement hanging in the air like a cloud of sulfur, the room fell into an awkward silence. My father finally threw his weight into the chair behind his desk and said, "Let's get on with this. I have more important things to do with my day. I have a business meeting I need to get to."

I inwardly cringed. I had known for a very long time that my father's business meetings could be anything from drinks with a corrupt politician, to beating a small business owner senseless for not paying protection money, to straight up murder.

Aunt Gabriella looped her arm through mine and led me across the room toward the rumpled man in the corner. "Darling, this is a dear family friend, Dr. Pantona. He's going to take the tiniest little vial of blood and run some tests. Just so you know, we're being fair about this. My nephew, Matteo, has already done the test in your father's presence, and he passed with flying colors."

My stomach twisted when she said the word fair. For the first time, the magnitude of what I was doing hit me. If I didn't stop this wedding, then Matteo was going to sleep with Antonia, assuming she was healthy and not pregnant, when at least one of those things was not true.

I pulled back against her grasp. "I don't think?—"

My father stood up and leaned forward with his fists on his desk. "Think? No one asked you to think. Sit your ass down and let the doctor stick it to you."

Frightened of what would happen if I tried to delay or object further, I sat in the chair nearest to Dr. Pantona.

Aunt Gabriella turned to my father with a wintry smile. "You have such a confident manner of speaking for a man of your size and intellect."

My father sucked in his stomach and pushed his chest out, strutting from behind his desk. "It comes naturally to me."

She chuckled as she folded her long, elegant fingers in front of her. "I'm sure it does."

I had to cover my mouth and cough to hide my laughter. It was clear my father had absolutely no idea she was insulting him.

Dr. Pantona spoke for the first time. "Roll up your sleeve, please," he asked gently as he gave me a kind smile that softened his tired eyes a bit.

As I moved to do so, my father stopped me. "Wait just a moment." He leveled a sharp glare at Matteo. "Just so we are agreed, if this test doesn't go the way you want it, you pay me half the bride price anyway. And if it does, you pay in full."

Matteo nodded. "I'll honor the signed bridal agreement. You will receive half a million if I'm unsatisfied with the test results. Or a million if I am, and she leaves for Abruzzo tonight with me. Either way, you keep your end of the bargain by supporting Dante Agnello, who arranged this little favor for you."

My father nodded back. "Agreed. Salvatore was an arrogant prick, anyway."

Nearly choking at the sum, my mind reeled. A freaking million euros!

Wait, did he say tonight?

I shot out of my seat. "Tonight? She couldn't possibly—I mean—I couldn't possibly leave tonight! I need at least a few weeks to prepare." I struggled to think of reasons that would sound like my sister. "I need time to shop for a whole new wardrobe… and my wedding dress!"

Matteo's gaze moved over me, pausing at my mouth and then dropping lower.

His gaze caressed me, prompting me to check the zipper over my breasts.

His lips quirked up at the corner.

Apparently, his aunt wasn't the only one who could read minds.

He then bowed his head slightly. "We have personal shoppers on retainer who can get you whatever you need. I will also arrange for the different haute couture fashion houses of Rome to travel to the winery to show you wedding dress designs. Trust me, they are used to it."

"Can't I do that here?"

He crossed his arms as his brow lowered, clearly not happy with my objections. "No. I need you in Abruzzo. We must see Father Luca for the banns and then there is the planning of the wedding. It will take a few weeks, allowing us more time to get to know each other before our vows."

With a wave of my hands in front of me, I shook my head. "This is moving too fast. I won't?—"

"Enough!" my father roared before backhanding me.

Unprepared for the assault, I fell back onto my chair with a cry as the side of my face exploded in pain. It wasn't nearly the first time he had hit me. I was just usually braced for it.

Before anyone could respond, Matteo lunged.

His arm struck out to grab my father by the throat. Despite my father's considerable bulk, Matteo effortlessly shoved him backward until he slammed against the wall. Then Matteo lifted him by the throat until his feet left the floor.

Terrified, I moved to stop him.

Aunt Gabriella stood in front of me as she threw out her arm across my chest. "Leave the men be, dear," she said calmly, despite the display of violence.

Matteo ground out through clenched teeth, "If you ever dare to lay a hand on her again, I will slice your throat and throw your body into the Caspian Sea. Do you understand me?"

My father's face turned purple as he struggled against Matteo's grasp. A white foam of spittle formed in the corners of his mouth as he choked out, "She's my daughter. I'll treat her as I like."

"Wrong. She's my future wife and I will not have her disrespected."

Butterflies fluttered and spun in my stomach at his declaration.

"Do you know who I am?"

Matteo tilted his head to the side. "Sure. You're my wife's dead father if you don't concede."

"Fine, you bastard!" my father choked out.

Matteo released his grip.

My father fell against the wall as he wrapped his hands around his throat and sucked in gulps of air. When he could draw in sufficient oxygen, he jeered, "You'll start a war for this."

Matteo adjusted his shirt cuff. "Doubtful. For starters, the humiliating reason the wedding was called off would get out to your associates. I'd make sure of it. Second, you're too fucking greedy to walk away from that much money."

My father's mouth opened and closed several times like a fish out of water.

Matteo leaned in close, causing my braggart father to flinch. "And finally, we both know I'm not a bastard. I'm a motherfucking Cavalieri. Invoking my name alone would call down the full force of the Italian government, the Vatican, and several shadow organizations to rain fire and brimstone on this pathetic stretch of land you claim as your dominion. Let me assure you. If a war is started, there is no doubt who the victor will be."

It was clear this entire marriage arrangement was to avoid some kind of civil war in Dante Agnello's syndicate involving the Cavalieris.

And Matteo had just risked it all, over an insult to me.

Well, technically my sister, but I was the one my father slapped, so it still sort of counted. It was getting harder and harder to control the obviously immature, hero-worship crush I was developing on my possibly, but hopefully not, future brother-in-law.

My father's eyes bulged as he sputtered a few sounds I was sure were supposed to be words.

Apparently, it was enough for Matteo. "Good. I'm glad we're in agreement. Now sit your ass down and keep your mouth shut until we're finished."

It would not be possible to give me a blood test, because I was certain all the blood just left my body at hearing Matteo order my father to sit his ass down, a phrase my father was fond of yelling at us.

With an angry scowl, my father actually obeyed.

Blinking, I tried to focus past the shocking events to the more pressing matter at hand.

Matteo thinking my sister would leave with him for Abruzzo this very evening.

With a shift of my shoulders, I turned my body away from my father's simmering anger and glares to face Matteo and his aunt. "About your travel plans—ow!" I pivoted to face Dr. Pantona.

Not showing the least bit of remorse for his underhanded deed, the man drew a vial of blood and pulled the needle free then pressed a cotton swab against my skin. "Did I forget to warn you?"

I stared at him for a moment. I had underestimated the good doctor. "Yes. Yes, you did."

He shrugged as he moved to the side table where he had several tiny glass bottles filled with different-colored solutions and a few Petri dishes and other medical paraphernalia laid out. Talking past me to Matteo, he said, "This should only take about fifteen minutes for all the results."

After casting a cautious glance in my father's direction, I asked, "Could you please give me at least a week before I'm expected in Abruzzo?"

Matteo's eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. He took a deep breath, studying me.

His scrutiny was so thorough, and he took so long to respond, I was alarmed he had figured out I was Ella and not my sister, Toni.

Finally, he said, "Agreed. You have one week, and not one day more."

I nodded, not wanting to push my luck by asking if by one week did he mean five days or seven. I would just assume he meant by Monday.

The hum and rumble of our villa's ancient heating system was the only sound in the room as we all awkwardly stared at the floor or one another for what felt like an eternity.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Dr. Pantona marked off different boxes on some medical form I couldn't read from where I was sitting. It was silly to be nervous. I knew I wasn't pregnant or anything. Still. It was the longest fifteen minutes of my life.

Finally, the doctor straightened his back and lifted the form in his hand. Instead of handing it to me, he gave it to Matteo.

Not wanting to cause another violent scene, I bit my tongue.

Matteo looked it over and handed it to my father.

After a moment to scan the document, an arrogant smile crossed his lips as he rose and puffed out his chest. "I'll need all the money in advance before you set foot off my property with my daughter."

The air in my lungs whooshed out, leaving me dizzy and breathless.

Matteo held up his phone so my father could see the screen. He then pressed a button with the side of his thumb. "Transferred. Now get the fuck out. I want to speak to my bride."

Uh oh.