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)
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.”