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 inhaled a deep breath. Patience, I reminded myself. “That would be true if you were leaving, but you’re not.”
“Matteo, it’s just not possible—”
“What if you’re already pregnant?”
She blinked. “What?”
After cupping the back of her head, I pulled her close to whisper into her ear. “I came deep inside your sweet, tight pussy—filling you. It’s possible…”
She opened her mouth to respond.
I cut her off. “Before you say something I’ll make you regret, know that I will not tolerate even a slim possibility of my child being born a bastard. Until my mother finally told my father about me, I was labeled a bastard and it’s not something I would wish on my own son or daughter.”
“We simply cannot marry! You’re my sister’s—”
“Go ahead. Piss me off by saying it again and I'll pull you over my knee and spank your ass right here in the middle of the cafe.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
I leveled a stern look at her. “Watch me.”
Before she could respond, a distant train whistle sounded.
I stood and reached for my wallet. Pulling out several euro bills, I tossed them into the center of the table. “I need to go meet the train. The part I need to finish repairing the destemmer-crusher is on it.”
Leaning over, I kissed the top of her head, then gestured toward the center of the piazza. “There is a string quartet setting up for the evening crowd. Stay here and enjoy the music until I return.”
“We haven’t finished talking about this, Matteo.”
I curved my hand under her chin and lifted her face. “Of course not, babygirl. There are the wedding arrangements to discuss.”
She called after my retreating back. “That’s not what I meant!”
Ignoring her, I gestured for the manager as I crossed the patio.
“Yes, Signore Cavalieri.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Elio, keep that arrogant prick waiter away from my girl. And while you’re at it, send over an espresso and something sweet for her to eat.”
“Yes, sir. I’m very sorry about the pesto.”
I patted his shoulder. “And tell the Chef it wasn’t personal. I was just making a point.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. And might I say, sir. She’s exquisite. You are a lucky man.”
Glancing over my shoulder at Ella, I nodded. “That she is, Elio. Inside and out.”
After returning from the train depot and stashing the part Alfonso was waiting for in the car, I returned to the cafe for Ella.
But she wasn’t there.
CHAPTER 36
ELLA
There was no freaking way I was staying at the cafe to be stared at like some zoo animal.
The moment Matteo was out of sight, I left.
Naturally, I gravitated to the musicians setting up. There were four men. By the looks of it, they were not a standard quartet. Instead of two violinists, a violist, and a cellist, they instead had one violinist and a bassist.
They started with a favorite of mine, "Con te partirò." I always teared up from the bittersweet lyrics. I even adored the British version, "Time to Say Goodbye."
With my eyes closed, I swayed to the melody.
It wasn’t until the song was finished that I realized I had been air playing along with my bow hand.
The cellist noticed. “Bella signora, you play?”
At my nod, he beckoned me closer. Stepping to the side, he gestured to his instrument. “Play for us.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t.”
He then addressed the small crowd which had formed. “Everyone clap to encourage this beautiful woman to play a song for us.”
The crowd enthusiastically clapped.
Since I usually spent several hours a day playing my cello and had barely played a few songs over the last few days, I couldn’t resist the opportunity. The one time I wasn’t shy around others was when I was holding my cello and playing for them.
Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I smiled. “Okay. I’ll play.”
The man held up both his hands. “Ah, it will be an honor to have my instrument held by such a beautiful woman.”
Brushing off his typical Italian male praise, I shrugged out of my coat and sat on the small stool he offered. Spreading my knees, I rested the cello against my left inner thigh as I positioned the fingerboard close to my left ear. “What shall we play, gentlemen?”
“Whatever the lady wishes.”
I thought for a moment, knowing they’d want me to choose something that would be popular among the residents and the tourists. So that, of course, meant something Bocelli sang. “How about "Vivo per lei?”
The man clapped again. “Perfetto!”
Since Bocelli’s version was a tribute to his love of music, I knew the musicians would like my choice as well.
The cellist took a position in front of the group to act as a conductor. After counting us in, we all played. When we reached the bridge and shifted the string arrangement to modulate to a different key, building tension to the first of the dramatic emotive moments, the man circled the crowd with a red plastic bucket. The audience tossed bills and spare coins inside.