Chapter 26

After watching my bride flee from me, I strolled outside onto the veranda.

Uncle Barone was throwing a log into the iron brassier, causing the fires flames to rise and spark.

Enzo tucked a heavy fur blanket over Bianca's lap before reaching for a bottle of Rosa's homemade green walnut liquor that was set out on a sideboard. "Joining us?"

I nodded. "But I'll take red wine instead."

Having never acquired a taste for the sweet yet bitter Nocino, a classic Abruzzo digestive, I preferred the wine.

Uncle Barone leaned back in his chair as he used a twig from the fire to light a cigar. After blowing a blue ring of smoke, he asked, "I heard Antonia is already here. Is that why you hurried back from your sail to Sicily?"

The rattle of ice against metal covered my momentary silence as Enzo prepared the chilled cocktail before pouring it into three small martini glasses. I thought over how much I wanted to divulge about Antonia's arrival and my motivations.

I shrugged as I passed Bianca and then my uncle each a glass before settling into one of the padded loungers surrounding the fire with my wine. "Not bad. Good winds. I made great time around the point."

Apparently, the answer was not much.

Bianca leaned forward. "Is your lovely bride joining us? I just want to know if I should sip or guzzle this."

Enzo cleared his throat as he joined her on the loveseat lounger.

She shrugged. "What? I said lovely."

He placed his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Just because Milana or Aunt Gabriella aren't here doesn't mean you need to fill the sarcasm void."

She leaned up and kissed the edge of his jaw before rubbing her thumb over the lipstick stain she caused. "Agree to disagree."

I swirled my glass to aerate the red wine and release the distinct aromas. Not wanting to discuss my bride, I asked my uncle, "Where's Amara?"

"Cesare left for Milan for a few days, so she's staying over at their place to keep Milana company."

Enzo tilted his head toward me. "In other words, she's on guard duty."

I rubbed my eyes. "Did Milana try to sneak into the office while I was gone?"

Uncle Barone rose and poured himself a glass of Scotch from the bar setup Rosa prepared before leaving, instead of a second Nocino. "There was no trying about it. The damn girl was there all week, for hours at a time. Cesare nearly tore my head off when he found out."

Bianca threw her head back and laughed. "She hid in your office because you were in Sicily."

As I lifted the wineglass to my lips, I smiled. "Clever girl," I said before taking a sip.

My uncle took his seat again, but not before dropping the small plate of dried fruit and sfrappole Rosa had also prepared on the veranda table in front of us all. "Should I bother asking if there is anything you'd like to tell us?" Powdered sugar wafted off the pastry he snagged from the plate.

My gaze hardened. I was well aware of my family's displeasure with my decision to marry Antonia. And of their hope it would all go sideways during my visit.

And it very nearly did.

I thought of her sister, Ella.

So sweet and shy and vulnerable and yet intelligent, with a curious inner fire. It was admirable how, despite her obvious trepidation about doing so, she still spoke her mind to me. Still stood up for herself. Or at least she tried.

Not that I listened. Especially when she tried to leave me to return to the dinner party, when it was clear she was suffering from lack of food and needed a moment.

Ella probably thought I hadn't noticed how she did her best to protect her sister, my bride, from her countless gaffes and social missteps. But I had.

I stared down into my wineglass.

Although I had no choice, it bothered me I left her behind with her bastard father.

Logically, I knew I'd already pushed against the line when I threatened Antonius over his treatment of Antonia. If I went to the mattresses over Antonella too, it would have possibly blown the entire agreement.

And then I would have no way of saving either sister.

I worried about Ella's safety. Her father had all but announced he'd be arranging a marriage for her next. Inwardly, I cringed at the idea of that sweet girl married off to some obnoxious, possibly violent, crony of her father's.

If I were completely honest, the primary reason I pushed to have Antonia here as soon as possible was to get Ella here as well, under my control. The moment the wedding was over, I would be Antonia's husband, family to Ella. That would give me hopefully just enough leverage.

Especially if I offered to pay her father's bride price and found a husband for Ella.

I took another sip of wine.

My father hadn't raised an idiot. I knew I was dancing into a minefield, given my attraction to Ella.

I hoped for the sake of our future marriage that I was right about Antonia only acting out as a reaction to her father and that, separated from his influence, she would become more like Ella.

There were so many times I would have sworn I saw Ella reflected in Antonia's eyes.

More than once, I had even…

No, it was obnoxiously American Hollywood ending to even think it.

It was not possible that the girls had switched.

For starters, I couldn't see Ella mistreating poor Lucia that way.

On the other hand, Antonia was either an extremely accomplished actress or had dramatically inflated the rumors about her level of sexual experience with all her overt propositions and brash talk.

There was no denying my babygirl's response to my touch at times.

As if she were shocked to her core at some of my more inventive bedroom games.

Is it possible?

Once more, my mind wandered to the possibility the sisters had switched positions.

I had witnessed firsthand Ella's willingness to shield and protect Antonia. While also witnessing Antonia's equally selfish and self-centered demeanor. The precise type of personality who would strong-arm and take advantage of, say… a more kindhearted sister.

It would also explain my supposedly very much so no longer a virgin bride's insistence on no traditional sex until the wedding.

I didn't have to ponder the reasons. It was no secret Antonia wanted this wedding even less than I did, but did that mean she would go to the lengths of forcing her sister to replace her?

No.

Not possible.

No matter how much I might secretly wish for it.

I rubbed my eyes again. There was no point in this type of wishful thinking. The die was cast. The agreement set. Antonia would be my wife in less than a month. Hoping for a different outcome, even one as outlandish as the two sisters switching places, was pointless and borderline cowardly. I gave my word I would marry Antonia, and that was what I was going to do.

After draining my glass, I rose to pour another.

While I was standing, I poured a generous amount of Nocino over ice, at least enjoying the burst of vanilla, cardamon and citrus peel scent, if not the taste, as I gave the cocktail shaker a vigorous shake. I turned and replenished first Bianca's, then Enzo's glass before holding out the ramekin of deep crimson cocktail cherries for them to select as a garnish. As I did so, I shook off my strange musings and focused back in on their conversation.

Enzo turned to me. "Are you getting to the destemmer-crusher tomorrow?"

With a toss, I threw the empty wine bottle into a nearby recycle bin as I answered. "Yup. I'm going to need a few of the men to disassemble the fittings, clamps, and seals in order to get to the differential switch."

Uncle Barone asked, "Do you think it blew because of a strain on the crushing component?"

"I do. I'll know more tomorrow."

He nodded. "Well, I can spare Alfonso and two others, but no more. Right now, my priority is pruning back the vines and getting rid of the dry brush. If we wait much longer, we're risking a fire in late spring."

With each passing month, as the temperature warmed, orographic lifting would lead to air being forced up our side of the mountain, leading into thunderstorm season. And thunderstorms meant lightning.

Every winery in the area took the possibility of a brush fire from a lightning strike very seriously, which was why after the harvest, it was common to take a brush mower to the wide, dry brush areas to cut down the fire fuel while also cutting back the vines.

"Understood. I'll only need them for an hour or so in the morning and then again later, after I'm done installing the new part. Just in case, I already ordered a new one. It arrives on the afternoon train."

He nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

Before our conversation could continue, music floated down to us from an upper bedroom. It was the deep, mournful notes of a cello.

It was then I realized we were actually under Antonia's bedroom.

Through my research, I'd learned that only Ella played. According to my report, Antonia wasn't the least bit musically inclined. She didn't have the patience or discipline for it, apparently.

I had noticed yet ignored the instrument in the bedrooms corner earlier.

It was odd, but I was too focused on confronting her over her earlier behavior to ask questions.

The sorrowful melody carried over the chilled night air. We all fell silent and listened. It took me a moment, but it finally clicked that she wasn't playing a classical piece as I'd have expected.

She was playing an instrumental version of Guns N Roses Don't Cry.

And playing it very well.

Extraordinarily well.

Bianca frowned at me as she leaned forward and whispered, just in case Antonia's window was open. "I didn't know Antonia played the cello."

My gaze remained steady on the soft light of my bride's bedroom window. "She doesn't."