Chapter 27

"Yes, I do," insisted Antonia.

I could practically hear the childish stamp of her foot over the phone.

With a grunt, I lifted the suitcase onto the sofa. As I leaned over the top to unzip it, I fired back at her. "No, you don't."

The idea that my twin sister took the tiniest bit of responsibility for her actions was laughable under normal circumstances, let alone now.

After lifting the lid, I groaned. Not a single item was neatly folded. "Are you fucking kidding me, Toni?"

"What?"

I flipped the phone to speaker and tossed it onto the cushion next to the sofa as I rifled through the mess. "This suitcase looks like a squirrel on cocaine packed it."

She made a dismissive huff. "Sorry I didn't follow your majesty's packing rules. I was in a rush."

With my own angry huff, I tossed several dresses over the back of the sofa as I rummaged through the pile looking for something halfway decent to wear. "I'm so sorry if you having that thug ex-boyfriend of yours drug and kidnap me made you pressed for time. And don't call me your majesty."

I hated when she called me that. "It's just common adulting decency to know how to pack a suitcase properly."

"Tomasso is not my boyfriend."

My back straightened as I snatched the phone back up. Pressing it to my ear before remembering I had it on speaker, I pressed the phone button and raised my voice. "That is what you have an issue with? Not the drugging and kidnapping me part?"

"How much longer are you going to harp on me about that?"

My gaze narrowed as I wrapped my arm around my middle and propped my other elbow on it. "Well, considering it's been less than a week, I'm pretty sure it's going to come up in conversation at least a few more times," I snapped back.

I hated the person Antonia turned me into. Even when we were little, I never talked or shared things with her. It was as if every interaction with her was just a string of negative reactions. My father was to blame. If he hadn't murdered my mother, then it wouldn't have forced me into the role of parent to my own twin. Prematurely ending my childhood, while apparently extending Antonia's.

Life wasn't fair, I knew that, but damn, it would have been nice if my patience and selflessness were rewarded just a little bit, like, say… me not being forced to impersonate my sister in a sham arranged marriage.

Or me not falling for her fiancé.

The unbidden thought shocked me to the core.

Noooooo.

This situation was already way too fucked up for me to suddenly think I was falling for Matteo Cavalieri.

My gaze wandered over to my cello. My only solace. My companion. My best friend in many slightly pathetic ways. I knew it was dangerous to play it. Everyone knew Antonia didn't play the cello. I was lucky Matteo was so angry with me over how I treated Lucia that he didn't comment on it last night. Still, I needed the consolation it provided. Like a hug from a friend.

It wasn't my choice of music that was disturbing me.

It was how I had closed my eyes and imagined Matteo's arms around me as he hugged me close and whispered the lyrics against my cheek.

It was the way my stomach flipped at the idea of him telling me everything was going to be okay, and that he loved me.

The fantasy that, for once, someone was watching over me, protecting me, instead of the other way around.

Afterward, I cried myself to sleep. Alone.

Because that was all it was… a fantasy.

Even if I once again dreamed of the moment we shared in the gazebo. The only time during this entire farce that he knew he was holding me, Ella, not my sister.

That he knew he was kissing me.

At least in my dreams, I left out the part where he immediately regretted it.

"Was there a point to this call?" Antonia's acid-laced voice broke my reverie.

"Have you told him yet?"

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend! Have you told your boyfriend that you're pregnant?"

There was a long pause. "Not yet."

"Toni!"

"I will! He's refusing my calls right now, but I have a plan."

A headache threatened. "I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"It's fine. I'm going to threaten to tell his wife if he doesn't meet with me."

"Antonia, who is he? If he's one of Father's men, that could be very dangerous."

"You worry too much. I have to go. I want to buy a new outfit in case I need to meet with the wife, and I have a two-hour drive to Catania."

"Why are you going to Catania?"

She let out a long, exaggerated groan. "Because that is where his vacation home is. God, Ella, keep up."

I raced over to the small desk on the other side of the bedroom and grabbed the pen that rested on top of a small notepad, which of course had the freaking Cavalieri Winery logo on it. It was as if I were being held prisoner at a resort spa. "Um, sorry. You're right. So silly of me. What was his name again?"

She snorted. "Nice try. I'm not telling you, because you'll get all judge-y."

After tossing the now useless pen aside, I wrapped my arm around my middle as I leaned a hip against the desk. "Too late. I'm kind of already there, so you might as well tell me his name."

"Fine, you sort of already know him. He's a?—"

She suddenly cut off.

I pulled the phone away from my face to make sure the screen was still lit and we were connected. "Antonia?"

Nothing.

"Antonia?"

I listened and heard a feverish, hushed conversation.

Straightening, I strained to listen but couldn't make out the words. "Antonia? Is someone there with you?"

Still nothing.

"Antonia!"

Finally, she must have put the phone closer to her mouth because I could hear her address the other person. "I wasn't going to tell her his real name, God!"

"Antonia? What is going on? Who is there with you? Toni?"

It was too late. She'd hung up.

With a resigned shake of my head, I tossed the phone aside and tackled the suitcase contents again. "Ewww," I groaned as I picked up one dress that was clearly dirty with a suspicious white stain on the lower back.

Not caring how expensive the dress might be, I crossed to the trash can and threw it away. There was literally nothing even remotely suitable to wear in the entire suitcase. It was filled with Antonia's signature too short, too tight, designer dresses and even tighter, brightly colored tracksuits.

I briefly thought about, then discarded, the idea of wearing a pair of the black track pants under a dress. For starters, I'd look ridiculous. And there was no way anyone would believe Antonia would wear something like that.

Seeing no other option, I selected the least offensive dress, a long-sleeved, black knit one that barely reached to mid-thigh. If I wore her pair of thigh-high boots, at least it would leave only a few inches of bare skin.

I pressed my ear to my door and listened to make sure I didn't hear any voices before I opened it only wide enough to poke my head out. After surveying the hallway to confirm it was empty, I stepped out of the bedroom and headed to the main staircase, walking on the balls of my feet. Just like at home, I wanted to avoid clacking my high heels against the hardwood floor and announcing my presence.

With another yank on the hem, I descended to the first floor.

All was silent.

I had deliberately waited until late morning to emerge, hoping to avoid Matteo and his family as they headed out for their daily routine.

Still walking on the balls of my feet, I headed down the hallway toward the back of the villa, where I figured the kitchen would be. I wasn't entirely sure since Matteo had taken me down the servants staircase last night. I didn't dare go that way since it passed several of the upstairs bedrooms. Better to be safe than sorry, in case the Cavalieris liked to sleep in.

Especially since I had absolutely no idea if Matteo was staying at the villa or not. The last thing I wanted was to pass a doorway and have Matteo emerge from his bedroom.

My cheeks warmed at the thought as a vision of him in his gray sweatpants and naked chest with a rumpled bed in the background popped into my head. Stop it!

As I made my way down the hallway, to the left was an open room filled with bright winter sunshine. Peeking inside, I saw a large executive desk filled with chaotic piles of files and stray paperwork. Pushed up against it, at an angle to create an "L-shape," was a quaint shabby-chic desk made of reclaimed barnwood. On it were neatly stacked colored files and a small bud vase.

Shifting my head left to right down the hall, I strained to hear any signs of life.

All was still silent.

This was a terrible idea.

Absolutely terrible.

The worst idea ever.

Don't do it, my mind raged.

After another nervous glance, I stepped over the threshold. The space was clearly an office. Maybe if I glanced through the files enough to sound knowledgeable about Cavalieri's business the next time I met with Fino, he would leave me alone about spying on them further.

I headed to the messier of the two desks.

The other desk was clearly that of a neat and organized female. Someone like that would be smart enough to file away anything incriminating. The other desk looked like controlled chaos. It would be much more likely that a piece of paper or file that was supposed to be hidden would get overlooked in the mess.

My fingertips slid over the disjointed edges of the closest pile of files as I forced air into my lungs. Fear made my chest tight. With one eye on the door, I tried to scan through the file tabs.

Invoices. Shipping orders. Website updates. Purity tests. Maintenance records. Payroll.

Maybe the payroll file would prove informative.

As if criminals put other criminals on the formal payroll.

Still, it was a place to start.

My right hand shook as I attempted to steady the unruly pile to slide the file out from the middle.

I was so focused on my task, I didn't hear him enter.

"Can I help you?"

With a small shriek, my hand jerked, destabilizing the whole pile. I cried out as I bent my knees and surged forward to capture as many of the slipping files in my outstretched arms as I could before they tumbled to the floor.

I wasn't successful.

Most of the papers slipped between my arms to crash in a guilty pile at my feet. I fell to my knees to gather them up. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!"

The handsome older man stepped forward. He placed his espresso cup on the edge of the desk and went down on his haunches before me. His large, warm hands pressed down on the tops of mine. "Stop."

His voice was soft but firm.

I slowly tilted my head back to look at him. After moistening my lips, I said again, "I'm very sorry."

He gripped my hands and rose, lifting me off my knees. There was no doubt he was a Cavalieri. He had the same dark eyes, firm jaw, broad shoulders, and imposing height as Matteo.

My eyes widened as I took in his salt and pepper hair.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh, please if there is a God, no.

It couldn't be…

Life isn't this cruel.

The corner of the man's mouth lifted as he stared down at me. "I'm Barone Cavalieri. And who might you be?"

Nope.

I was wrong. Life is this cruel.

Of course, it would be Barone Cavalieri.

My lips opened to speak, but no sound came out.

Just then, a soft, female voice interrupted. "Barone, you're scaring her."

I turned to see a pretty woman who looked close to my age enter. Her dark hair hung in thick waves over her shoulders as she entered the office casually dressed in an outfit I would have killed to be wearing at this moment: a heather-gray cashmere sweater over a pair of capri pants, with a simple strand of pearls around her neck.

My arms slipped to my sides, where I pulled on the short hem of my borrowed dress.

The woman held her hand out. "Hi, I'm Amara. You must be Antonia."

Her smile was so genuine and warm, I had to stop myself from cringing away from her touch, worried I would sully her with my craven, guilty lie. "Yes," I forced out through tight teeth, pushing my lips into a false smile.

Barone lifted his espresso cup off the desk. "Well, Antonia. It is nice to finally meet you. I apologize for our rudeness in not greeting you last night. We weren't expecting you so soon."

My cheeks burned. "Please, it was my fault for not announcing my arrival. My departure from Sicily was… unplanned."

He raised a single eyebrow as he raised the cup to his mouth, then paused. "Interesting. Can I ask what you were looking for on my desk?"

Amara swiped the cup from his grasp. "Caffeine pulls fluids from your body and impedes wound healing." She then fixed her dark, sharp gaze on me as she ignored his resigned sigh. "And I'm sure she has a perfectly good reason for being in our office."

Barone wrapped his arm around her lower back and pulled her close. He then kissed the corner of her mouth. "Fine. You're responsible for coming up with another way to get a rise out of me in the morning, then."

Amara blushed prettily. "The doctor said no to that as well."

He nuzzled her hair. "No. He changed his mind and agreed with me it was just the kind of exercise I needed to heal."

She pulled her head back and gave him a playful glare. "Only after you threatened to kill him if he didn't."

Barone shrugged. "All I remember is the doctor saying we should fuc?—"

Her eyes widened as she slapped her hand over his mouth. "Barone!" She then tilted her head to the side in my direction.

His dark eyes fixed on me as if he had truly forgotten I was in the room.

What would it feel like to have a man so enamored and in love with me he forgot everything that was going on around him, including a stranger who had clearly been boorishly rifling through his desk?

The silence stretched as they both stared at me expectantly.

I cleared my throat. "A reason? Yes, of course, I have a reason."

As soon as I think of one.

After clearing my throat a second time, I said, "I was just looking for… Matteo! Yes, Matteo. I don't have his mobile phone number and the winery is so large that I thought maybe he had a schedule posted that would tell me where he would be right now."

They exchanged a look.

They didn't even remotely believe me. The question was whether or not they would call me out on it.

Barone took a deep breath and narrowed his gaze.

Uh oh.

Finally, he said, "Matteo is in the main winery building, helping repair the destemmer-crusher machine. I can escort you there."

I held up my palms. "No. I don't want to inconvenience you. I'll just help clean these up and then go find him."

Before I could kneel again to pick up the piles of files, Amara intervened. "Leave it. I'll handle it."

Under normal circumstances, I would have objected and insisted on helping, but it was clear they were suspicious.

I nodded. "Of course. Sorry again."

Barone nodded his head toward the window. "Matteo is in the rectangular brick building just over there."

Not wanting them to see that the dress I was wearing barely covered my ass, I backed up, facing them as far as I could before turning and fleeing.

As I crossed the courtyard,my right ankle rolled slightly after stepping on a stone. These stupid high heels. I missed my ballet flats. Once again, I shifted up onto the balls of my feet and stepped gingerly down the path, careful to avoid any more stones. There was a slight hitch to my step as I favored my right leg, causing my hips to sway.

The moment I entered the building, I was immediately self-conscious.

Despite the whirr and hum of machinery, all human activity seemed to come to a standstill as the predominately male staff stopped to stare.

Again, I tugged on my hem as I lowered my head to conceal my face with the fall of my hair.

Ignoring the looks, I walked down the wide, tiled corridor, searching for Matteo.

And that was when the catcalls started.

"Ciao bella!"

"Dammi un bacio!"

"Bel culetto!"

"Vuoi scopare?"

Offensive as some of the comments were, there was only one voice I heard above all the others.

"Goddammit," growled Matteo.