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)
Not that I cared or anything.
It then hit me what she was saying. I bit my lip. If the villa was usually the hub of the winery, then this might be my only opportunity to snoop around.
Lucia crossed to the glass doors leading to a private balcony and pulled on the gold rope tassel which held the emerald taffeta curtains back. The heavily lined fabric swooped forward, covering the doors and enveloping the room in cozy elegance, especially with the cheery fire already lit.
A glance to the right showed my luggage, as if by magic, was already on a luggage rack across from the bed and near the bathroom entrance. And my cello case was leaning against the other far wall.
I was the lowest form of a snake for even thinking of spying around the villa.
What if something looked like it was disturbed, or someone noticed that a file I took was missing?
They would blame poor Lucia, who was going out of her way to be so kind.
“Do you need anything else for now?”
“No, you’ve been more than kind. Thank you.”
She nodded and left, closing the doors behind her.
I raced over to the coffee table and dumped the contents of my purse, as well as Toni’s crumpled note, onto the surface. Snatching my phone and the coiled-up charger, I plugged it in and pressed the "power" button. A groan left my lips as the stupid outline of the battery with its red stripe appeared.
“Come on, come on. Charge.”
Like the phone would listen and hurry for me.
Finally, there was enough juice to allow a phone call. I pressed the "favorite" button for Antonia so hard my nail turned white.
I had to call three times before she answered.
“Buonasera, Ella.”
“Don’t you 'buonasera' me. How could you?”
She spoke in that annoying baby voice she used with Father’s older associates. “Don’t be mad at me Elly-bear,” she whined, using a nickname she hadn’t called me since we were kids.
“It’s not my fault,” she continued. “I panicked.”
“Orva di l’occhi! You’re lying through your teeth. It’s not panic when you clearly planned this all along.”
“I couldn’t be sure you’d keep your word and go … and really, this is all your fault, not mine.”
I paced back and forth as much as the phone charger would allow. “My fault!” I yelled, then glanced at the closed door.
I lowered my voice in case Lucia was not telling the truth and there was someone else in the villa listening, while I jammed my finger into the center of my chest. “How the hell do you figure this is my fault?”
“You said you would take my place and then you said you wouldn’t. What was I supposed to do?”
I stared up at the ceiling, praying to the Madonna for patience. “Well, the first thing that comes to mind to start with is”—I pulled the phone away from my ear, and forgetting my earlier caution, shouted into it—“not drugging your twin sister!”
She let out a long, drawn-out groan. “This is getting tedious. Besides, I have to go. Alessio is taking me to the movies.”
“I’m sorry. Is my relating how I was drugged by that goon you used to date boring you?”
She snort-laughed. “Tomasso really is a goon, but a useful one.”
I clenched my jaw. “I’m not staying here.”
“Oh yes, you are!”
“No, I’m not.”
“You don’t have a choice. If you leave now, it’ll be an enormous embarrassment for Father and he’ll never forgive you.”
I frowned. “What about Father? Hasn’t he asked why I’m in Abruzzo and not you?”
She was silent.
“Antonia?”
There was a dramatic sigh. “I might be wearing your stupid, ugly clothes and I might have dragged out your old stupid cello and pretended to play it.”
Wow. So much wrong.
“First off, put my cello back.”
It was the one my mother first got me, and I’d be devastated if it was harmed in any way. Not that I could tell Antonia that. She always enjoyed using my favorite toys and stuffed animals as leverage against me when we were kids.
“Second, you can’t seriously tell me Father is falling for it?”
“It’s not like he pays attention to us when his friends aren’t around for him to parade us in front of.”
True.
“He didn’t think it was weird the cello you were playing was super tiny and meant for a child?”
“God, only you would know something that lame, Ella.”
Me and millions of people who were even only vaguely familiar with the instrument, but okay.
“And speaking of your stupid cello, why aren’t you thanking me?” she protested.
My jaw dropped. “What exactly for?”
“For including your stupid cello with the luggage.”
Called it. I knew she’d expect me to be grateful. It was like a kidnapper expecting a thanks for giving their captive water.
Raising the pitch of my voice until it was high and dripping with bitter sugar, I said, “Oh, yes. Thank you so very much, dear sister, for including my cello in your kidnapping kit.”