Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
I continued. “It gets worse. You know the other cousin, Enzo, the one who’s marrying his dead wife’s sister?”
She nodded. “Yeah, the tall, brooding one.”
“That’s him. I heard he refuses to stay in this gorgeous mansion he owns overlooking the piazza and instead forces his fiancée, Bianca, to live in squalor in some ramshackle cottage in the middle of a dirt field.”
She clutched her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I pushed my advantage. “And that is nothing compared to Matteo’s father.”
Her eyes widened. “I met him on Dante’s yacht. His name is Benedict, I think. Insanely hot, but super scary.”
“He forced a woman half his age to marry him after only knowing her for barely a week, and he now makes her spend night and day with him on his horse farm. Apparently, he wants to keep her pregnant with lots of kids, so she’ll have no choice but to stay with him.”
“A horse farm!”
“The horse farm Matteo will inherit one day as Benedict Cavalieri’s heir.”
Her lips thinned as her eyes narrowed. “I’m not living on some godforsaken horse farm!”
I patted her shoulder. “You might not have to … I’m sure you heard the rumors about what happened to Barone Cavalieri’s first wife.” I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Murdered by him. There were also rumors about Enzo’s first wife who died mysteriously when she—”
Antonia covered her ears. “Enough. I don’t want to hear any more! Father can’t be serious about forcing me to marry into this horrible family of arrogant, cheapskate murderers!”
My hands gripped her shoulders. “Toni, Father doesn’t care about you. He cares about three things and three things only: his reputation, his greed, and his business. You have to trust me to get you out of this.”
She stamped her foot. “When?”
I backed up. “I’m working on it.”
“Well, work harder! Because I refuse to marry that man!” she said before storming off.
A bad deed done for good reasons wasn’t really bad, right?
I was sure that was in the Bible somewhere.
No, my inner voice answered, but there is an ancient proverb. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Speaking of hell … I had a dinner with Matteo in a few hours to survive.
CHAPTER 11
MATTEO
“What is the useless skin around a vagina called?”
I closed my eyes briefly. This would not be good.
Antonius Carlo Fichera boomed out, “The woman!” Then slapped his thigh as he leaned forward, laughing at his own joke, sounding like a braying donkey.
Wow. That was even worse than I thought it would be.
My future father-in-law was holding court among his dinner guests.
The very first thing I noticed was they were all men. Clearly, the capo preferred dining with his soldati and not their wives or girlfriends, as was customary at a formal dinner party. It had always been my experience that if a man was required to wear a tuxedo, then there would be women present.
It reminded me of the old tavoliddus mafia dinners from the sixties where the mafiosi would feast on meat, cheese, and expensive wine given, or more precisely stolen, as a tribute from the poor villagers, before ending the night with a mock liturgy. With the men whipping the white tablecloths around their shoulders, pretending to be bishops and priests blessing the only females there, the prostitutes.
All bullshit, egotistical masculine energy.
What did I expect from a man who named his daughters Antonella Carlotta and Antonia Carlotta after himself?
The ice in my Campari and soda rattled as Antonius slapped me on the back. “Great joke, right?”
I forced a smile. “I can honestly say I have heard nothing like it in quite some time.”
He slapped me again. “Don’t go stealing it like you’re stealing my daughter!”
Again, the donkey brayed as the rest of the room laughed along with him.
I laughed through clenched teeth, covertly checking my watch. “I won’t.”
Where the hell was Antonia? I wanted to speak with her before we were all seated.
It was clear, given the stilted entertainment, I would not be getting the quality alone time I had enjoyed last night, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have some strong words for her.
The men all turned as Antonia and her sister, Antonella, appeared in the parlor's arched doorway but did not enter, as if waiting for permission.
I knew the women were twins, but damn. If it weren’t for their attire and makeup, I wouldn’t be able to tell the two apart.
Antonia was wearing heavy eyeliner, large gaudy jewelry and a tight, cleavage-baring, black cocktail dress, much in the style I remembered from when I first met her on Dante’s yacht.
The shy sister, Antonella, wore a more modest A-line dress in pale cream with a high collar, a strand of black pearls her only adornment.
With their golden hair, they looked like the good and evil versions of two angels.
Too bad I wasn’t being asked to marry the good angel.