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)
“Was there a point to this call?” Antonia’s acid-laced voice broke my reverie.
“Have you told him yet?”
“Who?”
“Your boyfriend! Have you told your boyfriend that you’re pregnant?”
There was a long pause. “Not yet.”
“Toni!”
“I will! He’s refusing my calls right now, but I have a plan.”
A headache threatened. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”
“It’s fine. I’m going to threaten to tell his wife if he doesn’t meet with me.”
“Antonia, who is he? If he’s one of Father’s men, that could be very dangerous.”
“You worry too much. I have to go. I want to buy a new outfit in case I need to meet with the wife, and I have a two-hour drive to Catania.”
“Why are you going to Catania?”
She let out a long, exaggerated groan. “Because that is where his vacation home is. God, Ella, keep up.”
I raced over to the small desk on the other side of the bedroom and grabbed the pen that rested on top of a small notepad, which of course had the freaking Cavalieri Winery logo on it. It was as if I were being held prisoner at a resort spa. “Um, sorry. You’re right. So silly of me. What was his name again?”
She snorted. “Nice try. I’m not telling you, because you’ll get all judge-y.”
After tossing the now useless pen aside, I wrapped my arm around my middle as I leaned a hip against the desk. “Too late. I’m kind of already there, so you might as well tell me his name.”
“Fine, you sort of already know him. He’s a—”
She suddenly cut off.
I pulled the phone away from my face to make sure the screen was still lit and we were connected. “Antonia?”
Nothing.
“Antonia?”
I listened and heard a feverish, hushed conversation.
Straightening, I strained to listen but couldn’t make out the words. “Antonia? Is someone there with you?”
Still nothing.
“Antonia!”
Finally, she must have put the phone closer to her mouth because I could hear her address the other person. “I wasn’t going to tell her his real name, God!”
“Antonia? What is going on? Who is there with you? Toni?”
It was too late. She’d hung up.
With a resigned shake of my head, I tossed the phone aside and tackled the suitcase contents again. “Ewww,” I groaned as I picked up one dress that was clearly dirty with a suspicious white stain on the lower back.
Not caring how expensive the dress might be, I crossed to the trash can and threw it away. There was literally nothing even remotely suitable to wear in the entire suitcase. It was filled with Antonia’s signature too short, too tight, designer dresses and even tighter, brightly colored tracksuits.
I briefly thought about, then discarded, the idea of wearing a pair of the black track pants under a dress. For starters, I’d look ridiculous. And there was no way anyone would believe Antonia would wear something like that.
Seeing no other option, I selected the least offensive dress, a long-sleeved, black knit one that barely reached to mid-thigh. If I wore her pair of thigh-high boots, at least it would leave only a few inches of bare skin.
I pressed my ear to my door and listened to make sure I didn’t hear any voices before I opened it only wide enough to poke my head out. After surveying the hallway to confirm it was empty, I stepped out of the bedroom and headed to the main staircase, walking on the balls of my feet. Just like at home, I wanted to avoid clacking my high heels against the hardwood floor and announcing my presence.
With another yank on the hem, I descended to the first floor.
All was silent.
I had deliberately waited until late morning to emerge, hoping to avoid Matteo and his family as they headed out for their daily routine.
Still walking on the balls of my feet, I headed down the hallway toward the back of the villa, where I figured the kitchen would be. I wasn’t entirely sure since Matteo had taken me down the servants' staircase last night. I didn’t dare go that way since it passed several of the upstairs bedrooms. Better to be safe than sorry, in case the Cavalieris liked to sleep in.
Especially since I had absolutely no idea if Matteo was staying at the villa or not. The last thing I wanted was to pass a doorway and have Matteo emerge from his bedroom.
My cheeks warmed at the thought as a vision of him in his gray sweatpants and naked chest with a rumpled bed in the background popped into my head. Stop it!
As I made my way down the hallway, to the left was an open room filled with bright winter sunshine. Peeking inside, I saw a large executive desk filled with chaotic piles of files and stray paperwork. Pushed up against it, at an angle to create an “L-shape,” was a quaint shabby-chic desk made of reclaimed barnwood. On it were neatly stacked colored files and a small bud vase.