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)
Bianca clapped. “Oh, how exciting! I’m sorry I missed that.”
Matteo continued. “She’s the children’s favorite teacher at the Academy of Music in Palermo.”
How did he know that?
“Although I haven’t heard her play it yet," Matteo said, "I have it on very good authority from Dante that she is also the only cellist in Sicily who was invited by the Church to play Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante for the Pope’s visit last spring.”
Gabriella raised her glass in a toast. “That is very impressive, my girl. I’m familiar with that piece and I cannot imagine the courage it took to play it in front of His Holiness, no less.”
“Is there a video or recording of the performance?” asked Amara. “I’d love to hear it.”
Milana’s eyes lit up. “We should host a party and invite everyone we know to listen. What a brilliant way to introduce Antonella to the village.”
Barone pointed to Alfonso. “We could work it into the winery festival program for the Festa di San Giuseppe.”
Alfonso nodded. “I could have the men set up a screen with some speakers. We could project it onto the side of the main winery building.”
Rosa then chimed in. “While everyone listens it would be the perfect time to serve the zeppole di san Giuseppe.”
“Great idea, Rosa,” responded Bianca.
My eyes teared over.
It was the proudest moment of my life. The Sinfonia Concertante was considered one of the most difficult pieces of music for any cellist to perform because of its complicated arpeggios, quick scales, and the necessity for precise bowing.
I’d been a nervous wreck about performing it in front of so many people, let alone in front of the Pope. I’d practiced for three months straight, until the tips of the fingers on my left hand cracked and bled and my right hand cramped from holding my bow for hours straight day after day.
When the day finally arrived, neither my father nor Antonia could be bothered to attend.
And here was a table of complete strangers talking about making a scratchy, second-rate recording of it the centerpiece of their Feast of St. Joseph celebration.
I broke.
Throwing my napkin over my plate, I pushed back my chair and ran out of the room.
As I crossed over the threshold, I heard Barone’s deep baritone say to Matteo, “Let her go.”
Yes, Matteo, for your own sake… let me go.
CHAPTER 40
ELLA
“What are you doing here?” I whispered harshly as I looked over my shoulder at the darkened library windows.
Fino emerged from the shadows. “Don’t use that tone with me. You’ve been ignoring my phone calls.”
I shifted closer to the shadows along the high veranda wall. “There is nothing to tell you. I searched the Cavalieri offices and found nothing suspicious.”
It was mostly the truth.
Fino reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a crumpled soft pack of cigarettes. Placing the unfiltered end between his lips he lit it and took a long drag.
Then blew the smoke in my face.
I waved it away, coughing and choking.
He pointed with his cigarette hand. “Well then, you’re just going to have to keep searching until you find something.”
“I’ve been watched just about every moment of the day. Even if I wasn't, the whole villa is crawling with family members and employees.”
He flicked a piece of ash off his shirt. “If you don’t find me something incriminating on the Cavalieris, I will be forced to take other, unpleasant measures.”
I glanced down at the dark screen of my phone. “Have you done something to my sister? Is that why she isn’t returning my calls?”
He took another long drag as he shrugged one shoulder. “One of the beautiful things about betrayal. It is so easy to turn the tables. For instance, if your father were to hear all my recordings of you ratting him out. What do you think he would do to you?”
I staggered backward with faltering steps.
Antonia had been pretending to be me back in Sicily.
If Fino told my father…
Not only would my sister be in danger, but there would be no hope of finding out what happened to my mother.
My lower lip trembled. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll go straight to Judge Delluci. I’ll tell him what you’ve done.”
His arm struck out so fast, I had no time to defend myself. The jagged, unkept fingernails of his right hand dug into the skin around my throat as his fingers squeezed.
Gasping for air, I clawed at his wrist and forearm and tried to scream.
With two steps forward, he covered my nose and mouth with his free hand and pinned me against the stone wall of the enclosure, striking my head against the bricks. My vision blurred as he bared his yellow-stained teeth.
His breath was rancid with garlic and stale tobacco as he hissed, “Don’t you dare threaten me, bitch.”
The edges to my vision darkened as I tried to twist my head away from his hand while at the same time straining to stay on the tips of my toes to ease the pressure on my throat. My lungs strained and burned as the last vestiges of oxygen left my body.