Chapter 50
Something was wrong.
Over twelve straight hours of dealing with the aftermath of the fire had me pushed beyond the point of exhaustion. By two a.m., all I wanted to do was climb into bed and hold my wife close.
My wife.
It felt good to say it. Although I had resigned myself to the concept of marriage, I had not even considered the possibility of finding happiness in marriage. Fate had other plans. Thank God.
Especially in moments like this. It would have been torture to watch my cousins, father, and uncle turn to their girls for comfort in their grief while I had nothing but the cold bed of an unwilling bride. Enzo had been right. Forsaking love and support was no way to live.
After hosing off downstairs and agreeing to allow Dr. Pantona to examine the scrapes on my back, I was finally able to check on my baby.
Lucia was kind enough to bring her a tray of food earlier but told me the room was dark and Ella didn’t respond so she just left it on a side table. Although I was concerned that she may have not eaten, perhaps sleep was the best thing for her right now.
Sleep was an escape.
And I’d desperately wanted that same escape.
But the moment I entered our suite, I knew something was off.
It was the smell.
A cloying, sickeningly dense rose perfume.
I knew that scent…
Flipping on the light, I stormed over to the bed and ripped the covers off.
Antonia.
With her hair artfully splayed out on the pillow and her heavy makeup perfectly applied, she pretended to blink and slowly come awake like some demented fairy tale princess rising from a bed of fucking flower petals.
Gracefully drawing her hands under her chin, she arched her back, pushing her breasts which were barely contained in some scrap of silk and lace forward. “Darling, is that you?”
My fist twisted in her hair. I grimaced at the crunchy feel of the thick hairspray covering the tacky curls sticking to my palm. With a fierce yank, I pulled her from the bed. “Don’t you fucking darling me. Where the hell is Ella?”
From her position on her knees at my feet, she ran her hands over the tops of my thighs. Her eyes filled with false tears. “Please don’t be angry with me. She made me do it.”
Throwing off her hands, I prowled around the room. “Bullshit. I know it was you, Antonia.”
I slammed open the door to my closet. Ella? It was empty. “What did you do with her?”
Antonia crawled across the room to me. This time reaching up and pressing her hands against my crotch. “Be kind to me. You have no idea the… the… unspeakable things… I’ve endured to reach you.”
My hands wrapped around her wrists as I pulled her to her feet. “You have one second to tell me where your sister is, you miserable excuse for a human being, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
She covered her face and cried. “I told you. This was all her idea. She wanted your money for herself. That is why she pretended to be me at Carnevale and why she kissed you in the gazebo. It was all part of her plan to steal my identity and trick you into marrying her instead.”
The false gesture was ruined when I watched her peek over her fingertips to see if I was affected.
My hands curled into fists at my sides in an effort to keep from striking her. Judging by the slight smear of makeup over her cheek, someone already had. “I will ask you one more time. Where is she?”
Her well-manicured hand, long nails painted a glossy black, pressed over her heart. “After escaping my father, I finally made my way here. The moment she saw me, she became enraged. She knew her plan had failed and that I was your true bride.”
Jesus Christ.
I stared at her hands. How could I not have noticed Ella’s hands sooner than I did? Unlike her sister’s claws, Ella’s nails were short and unvarnished. More than likely because of her cello playing. I twisted my head to stare at the cello in the corner. Her beloved cello.
Antonia sidled closer to me, her perfume an unpleasant, rank cloud. “I tried to stop her. You must believe me. I begged her not to set the fire.”
My gaze snapped back to her. My family’s pain and grief were too raw, too fresh for me to restrain myself any further. My arm snapped out and I grabbed her by the throat. “You manipulative bitch. I’ll see you rot in hell for Alfonso’s death. And so help me God, if you’ve harmed Ella in any way...”
Her scarlet lips turned up in a smile. Then she bared her teeth as she laughed. “Well, this is interesting. A man only behaves like this when he’s had a taste of pussy. Did my sweet, innocent sister give up the goods?”
I matched her smile, taking great pleasure in saying, “Well, it’s only fitting that a wife would sleep with her husband.”
Her eyes widened before she ran her claws over my wrists, drawing blood. “You’re lying.”
I released her and backed away, afraid of what I would do if I continued to hold her life in my hands. “Am I?”
Her gaze narrowed as her chest rose and fell with her heavy, angry breaths. “I’d have heard about a wedding.”
Trying to turn the tables on her, I said, “Fino didn’t tell you?”
“No, he didn’t tell?—”
So she was working with Fino, which meant Judge Marzio Delluci may or may not be involved as well.
She tilted her head as she sneered. “Very clever. Much more clever than I gave you credit for. Fine. Whatever. Good luck tricking me into telling you where your precious soon to be dead wife is.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, you’ll talk. Trust me.”
Antonia fluffed her hair. “Doubtful. And besides, you better be nice to me. Once my sister is dead, Dante and my father are going to make you honor your original agreement and marry me anyway to avoid a scandal.”
I’d had enough of this.
Snatching her by the forearm, I pulled her out of the room and down the hall.
She dragged her feet. “Where are you taking me? I’ll scream!”
Clenching my fist, I pounded on the bedroom door at the farthest corner of the villa.
After a moment, it swung open.
It was clear from my father’s expression and Liliana’s naked shoulders peeking out above the covers that I had interrupted something.
My father frowned. “What the fuck is going on? Why is Antonia here?”
I ground my teeth. Of course he would recognize Antonia immediately. Fuck, I was a goddamn fool those first few days with Ella.
Shaking off my disgust with myself, I said, “Ella is missing. She’s involved. I need your special interrogation skills.”
He nodded. “Let me get my tools.”
Antonia yanked on my grip, but I held steady. “God, this is so pathetic. You honestly think this scare tactic is going to work on me?”
Fear made her voice quiver at a higher pitch.
I leaned closer over her, as I raised one eyebrow. “You dont think so? I give you less than a minute.”
My father reappeared. This time in jeans and a shirt, holding a weathered, leather knife roll. As he shifted it in his hands, the metal tools inside clanked.
Antonia’s face paled as her knees buckled.