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 stepped into the beautiful lemon grove. There were at least fifty lemon trees with low hanging, glossy, green-leafed branches, enclosed within an ancient rock wall. Judging by their height, the trees were at least two generations old, if not older. It gave the atmosphere a secluded, timeless feel.
My arm stretched up to rub a smooth leaf between my thumb and forefinger. “Yes, you do.”
Keeping her face averted, she tried to move past me. “I need to get back inside.”
I blocked her path again. “Not until we talk.”
She backed up a step and turned. “You only have a moment before my father starts to worry.”
I laughed. From what I had already seen, she and Antonia could self-combust at that table and the only thing their father would notice would be the annoying cinders falling into his drink.
At the sharp turn of her head and glare, I fisted my hand and pretended to clear my throat. “I’ll get to the point, then. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
Her slim shoulders stiffened before she ducked under a branch and moved deeper into the grove. “I’m playing no game.”
It took very little effort to follow her lithe form and cream-colored dress as she weaved among the lemon tree trunks. “I see you and Antonia share the same passing interest in the truth.”
She paused and turned to face me, a flush rising in her cheeks. “That is not true. I’m nothing like my sister.”
The vehemence of her response gave me pause. Could I be mistaken about her motives?
My shoes crunched over the mixture of white gravel and crushed seashells that made up the narrow, winding paths through the tiny orchard. To re-establish a connection, I said, “You’re right. I misspoke. I’m well aware of your differing accomplishments. In fact, I’ve heard a great deal about your superior musical abilities. I’m looking forward to hearing you play.”
After casting me a sour look that would have rivaled the ripening juices in the yellow fruit clinging to the surrounding branches, she continued to press deeper into the grove. “There is no need to patronize me or kiss my ass, Signore Cavalieri. It is my father you need to impress, not me. I’m not involved.”
“But you disapprove.”
“I have done nothing to indicate I have an opinion either way.”
My lips quirked upward. I had interrogated Western European spies who were less cagey.
Observing a slight break in the trees, I took advantage of the clearing and circled around to cut her off higher up the path. “As much as I hate to disagree with a beautiful woman… we both know you are lying. Or should I say, being less than forthcoming?”
She shifted to the left.
I stepped to the right, blocking her.
She shifted back to the right.
I shifted to my left.
With a frustrated sigh, she finally looked up at me. “You’re making a mistake.”
My brow lowered.
“Get back on your knees,” I commanded.
“No! You have to stop! You’re making a mistake.”
I then pushed my fingers between her legs, feeling her tight, clenching heat.
“Say that again,” I ordered.
Her large, chocolate-brown eyes searched my face before she cleared her throat and said again, this time softer and lower. “You’re making a mistake.”
Despite her attempt to hide it, I had no doubt it was the same voice as last night.
Fuck. Wait. No.
The idea was highly improbable.
Everything I had learned about Antonia’s twin sister argued against the preposterous notion that it was Antonella and not Antonia I took to my boat last night… that I disciplined last night before shoving my cock down her throat.
Regardless of their being twins, clearly, their close relation as sisters meant they had similar speech patterns, turns of phrase, and tone.
My original theory that she was deliberately trying to sabotage my arranged marriage because she didn’t want her twin sister to move to the other side of Italy was far more plausible and realistic.
My hands wrapped around the gnarled branches on either side of her head, forcing her to back up a step and press her body along the trunk. “I don’t make mistakes.”
Her chin jutted out. “Spoken like a man.”
I gave a firm nod. “At least a confident one.”
“One person’s confidence is another’s arrogance.”
“I take it you don’t share your sister’s appreciation for the opposite sex?”
“I have yet to find one worthy of my regard.”
She might as well have stepped back in time and been Katherina saucily warning my Petruchio of her waspish sting.
I leaned forward. The scent of her perfume caught on the evening breeze. Fresh-cut green grass, a hint of saltwater and verbena. Same as the perfume Antonia was wearing last night, and vastly different from the cloying rose, ylang-ylang, and bergamot fragrance she was wearing now.
The perfume embodied the dual personalities of both women.
Antonella, fresh and innocent, with a melancholy sweetness about her.
Antonia, flagrant sex-on-a-stick, sweaty bodies, and hedonism.