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 ripped her dress over my head, hissing when the zipper caught in my hair, tearing out several strands. I tossed the offensive garment into my laundry basket and reached for a pair of black capris.
As I pulled them over my hips, I confronted her. “You told me you only saw him come into the house. You deliberately kept your scandalous conversation with him from me.”
She stroked the strings again. “And you, dear sister, kept the fact that you tried to fuck my fiancé from me.”
In two strides, I had crossed the room and torn my cello from her grasp. After placing it gently back on its stand, I went over to my closet to choose a black turtleneck. With my back turned to her, I said, “I didn’t try to fuck him. The kiss took us both by surprise. It was barely a peck. He came to his senses and broke it off right away. He was just confused over the whole look-alike twin thing.”
She snorted. “You wish you looked like me.”
I looked exactly like her, but since I’d been taunted as being the uglier and more awkward sister by both her and my father for years, I stopped being hurt by it.
Pushing my head through the top, I shoved my arms into the sleeves and ignored her comment. “Besides, you’ve repeatedly said you don’t want him as a fiancé,” I continued. Brushing the hair out of my face, I then pulled it into a tight ponytail at my nape, cringing at the tangles and hairspray crunch from Antonia’s "mini me" makeover. “Not that I do… or that it is an excuse or anything…”
She launched out of her chair, got in my face, and shoved at my shoulders. “God, Ella, you’re nothing but a closet whore who likes to tischi-toschi.”
“I do not like to tischi-toschi. The last thing I do is put on airs!”
I pushed her hands away and backed up, instinctively blocking her view of my beloved cello. I vividly remembered when she threw my previous cello out the window, demolishing it, after getting mad at me over something trivial. Father refused to pay for another one and wouldn’t allow me to get a job to earn money to pay for one on my own, either. The old cello my mother had given me was smaller, intended for younger players, so I had to work in secret at the music school while playing on a borrowed subpar instrument for two years before I could afford to replace it with my current one.
“And what else did you call me?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “A closet whore. In public you tischi-toschi, and are nothing but a judgmental prude, but secretly you’re a fucking slut. At least I’m honest about who I am.”
My mouth fell open at her harsh words even as my cheeks burned. Although I wouldn’t call myself a judgmental prude, it was true my recent clandestine activities with Matteo were not exactly Christian.
I pointed a finger at her chest. “You’re the one who came to me for help! You’re the one who’s insisting I pretend to be you! What did you think was going to happen if I went to Abruzzo for you?”
She snorted. “You’re just jealous of how hot I am, because you could never get a man like Matteo Cavalieri to look twice at you.”
I flattened my palm against my chest. “We are identical twins!”
“Don’t remind me.”
Inwardly, I fumed. She was missing my point. I moved over to the bed and fished out my ballet flats from under it. Shoving my feet inside them, I said, “You’re lucky we are, or you’d be fucked. Father would have killed you for failing that blood test because you’re pregnant. Did you know Matteo’s paying him a million euros for this marriage?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Why not? I’m worth it.”
What must it be like to be that confident? I wished I had inherited a fraction of her moxie in our mother’s womb. “E cu è, Totò Termini?” I quipped back. “Don’t you have a rather high opinion of yourself. Have you considered the consequences of marrying someone else without Father's permission? What happens if he learns about the baby?”
She frowned. “How would he find out?”
I threw my arms up in frustration. “Because if I can’t get out of going to Abruzzo to save your ass, eventually they are going to learn that I’m me and not you!”
“So? Matteo will get the poor man’s version of me. At least you’re still a Fichera daughter, if not the hot one.”
My jaw hurt from how hard I clenched my teeth. “I’m not marrying Matteo Cavalieri for you, Toni. Besides, that’s not what he or Father wants. There are reasons why they want you, not me.”
Wow. Why did that hurt so much to say out loud?