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)
Judging by her innocent ingenue act earlier, it was a necessary precaution.
Dante continued. “Her father hasn’t given his full blessing to this union yet. If he deems you a threat more than an asset, the plan is done."
“There is no need to remind me. I’m meeting him tomorrow when I play the gracious future son-in-law for Shrove Tuesday dinner after the parade.”
Martedi Grasso, the last feast day before Lent, was not one of my favorites. It was traditionally full of obnoxiously rich sweets as Italians cleared out their pantries before the weeks of fasting.
He drained his glass. “Good. I will not ask questions about tonight, but from this point forward, I need you to truly act like a fucking groom and stay away from the sister.”
The sister? Ella? The shy cello player?
After tossing the rest of my drink over the railing, I turned to him with a furrowed brow. “Dante, what the hell are you getting at by warning me away from her sis—”
Before I could finish, the bride in question, defying my express order to stay in the room, appeared.
My anger intensified when she stepped fully into the light.
She looked beautiful—and thoroughly fucked—even though we didn’t get that far.
Her golden curls were tousled and teased. Her lips cherry-red and swollen. Her cheeks still had a high blush that I was certain would match the lower cheeks I had whipped with my riding crop. It didn’t help that she looked sexy as fuck wearing one of my white dress shirts tied off at the waist over her voluminous skirt. Neither did it help that I knew under that shirt was a white lace corset and that her torn panties were probably still laying on my bedroom floor.
With her head bowed and her hands twisting the fabric of her skirt, she whispered, “Good evening, Don Agnello, is Father really mad?”
Dante smiled with warm affection at her as he approached and lifted her arms to kiss the backs of her hands. “For you? I lied and said you were with me and some associates enjoying a musical concert at the church. I told him I would have you home soon.”
I viewed the touching scene with growing anger.
Antonia in church? Seriously? That wasn’t even remotely believable.
Was Dante also one of Antonia’s lovers?
He could have fooled me the night I was on his yacht with my father and Liliana. All of Dante’s body language toward Antonia showed he found her to be an annoying troublemaker. He expressed the same sentiment during the wedding. Right before he told me he needed to marry her off before she caused a civil war in his syndicate by sleeping with two different, powerful married men.
My bride wrapped her arms around Dante’s waist and buried her head in his chest. “Thank you, Don Agnello.”
What the fuck?
He tipped her chin back and winked. “You’re still going to catch hell for forgetting to tell your father I asked you to join me for evening Mass.”
Her lips thinned. “Yes, sir.”
Sir?
My fingers clenched into a fist as I stepped forward. “Get your hands off her.”
Even if he were one of her lovers, that ended the day he asked me to be her fucking fiancé.
Dante didn’t turn to face me. Nodding, he instructed her, "Go with my men. I’ll be right there.”
I clenched my teeth. “She isn’t going anywhere, not until I say so.”
She looked between Dante and me, then quickly pivoted on her heel to race toward Dante’s men and down the gangplank.
My gaze narrowed. She was going to pay for her disobedience.
Dante turned to me and threw his arms in the air. “What the fuck was that? What did I just say about only concerning yourself with your bride and not the sister?”
Really? What the fuck is with him and the damn sister?
“Antonia will soon be a Cavalieri, and that means she and her sister, Ella, will be under my protection and therefore my concern, not yours. Remember that.”
I could only assume Antonia would want her twin sister, Ella, to be with her to have family near while in Abruzzo. If what I learned about the shy sister was any indication, hopefully she would be a positive, calming influence on my bride.
“Soon, but not yet. The Fichera girls remain under my protection until then. See that you remember that.”
Dante was a powerful Don in Sicily and a tentative, if reluctant, ally of the Cavalieri family. It would serve no purpose to continue arguing with him. By the end of the week, I would be back in Abruzzo at the Cavalieri winery with my troublemaking bride, planning our ill-fated wedding.
I watched as Dante joined her on the dock and walked toward his car.
All the while thinking of how I would maneuver to get her alone Tuesday night before dinner, to punish her for her open defiance of me.