Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
I delivered a botta lunga, the blade striking the dummy’s torso with surgical precision, followed by a quick disimpegnoto to avoid an imaginary parry.
Arcangelo smirked, adopting a fencer’s guardia. “How is our good friend Benedict?”
Rolling my shoulders, I executed a seamless riposta after a feigned attack. “Still determined to cut your throat if you come anywhere near his new bride.”
Benedict didn’t take kindly to Arcangelo’s flirtatious attitude toward Liliana when they'd first met.
The loyalty between the Diamantis and the Cavalieris could never be questioned, but that didn’t mean Benedict wouldn’t hack Arcangelo’s dick off if he ever tried something.
Arcangelo pushed out his lower lip in a mock pout. “Oh no, does that mean I’m off the Christmas card list?”
I snapped a coupé at the dummy’s head. “Just don’t bitch at me when you aren’t invited to the winery for the next wedding or harvest festival.”
I knew that would hit a nerve.
Since our own family was about as cuddly as a nest of vipers, my siblings and I cherished the warmth and love we found at the Cavalieri gatherings.
He swiped the foil in the air several times, performing exaggerated movimenti circolari. “Fine. I’ll make nice with Benedict and stay away from that delectable little morsel of corrupted innocence he married.”
I stretched out my arms and bowed to him. “That’s all I’m asking, brother.”
He bowed back, his foil held loosely in his hand.
Turning my attention back to the tactical exercises, I struck the dummy with a precise series of botte dritte, working up a sweat as my blade found its mark again and again.
Leaning against the far wall, Arcangelo watched me for several minutes before asking, “Speaking of corrupted innocence, are we going to talk about your latest…acquisition?”
Facing him, I yanked at the side zipper on my padded jacket and ripped open the flap to cool down. “You’re not going to give me shit about Sabrina too. I’ve already heard enough from Rafaello and Arabella.”
He raised his palms. “Hell no. All’s fair in love and war…and business.”
I pulled off my glove and reached for the crystal carafe of water set on a silver tray by my thoughtful staff.
After pouring a glass and taking a sip, I asked, “So you don’t have any objections to how I plan to handle the judge situation given the new investigations he’s started?”
The moment I arrived in Italy, I had gotten word that the judge had hauled several House of Diamanti executives in for questioning. Questioning that apparently took place in the middle of the night at an undisclosed location.
I wasn’t worried. My people were loyal.
Still, it meant the judge was escalating his feud with us.
It was only a matter of time before it became public knowledge that the House of Diamanti was being investigated as an organized crime syndicate.
Every wedding and engagement ring we sold would be tainted with a mafia association.
Arcangelo picked up the water carafe and wrinkled his nose. “Got anything stronger?”
I nodded toward a walnut cabinet on the far wall.
He crossed to it and opened it to expose a dartboard.
Pulling a wooden panel down, he revealed the hidden bar.
He poured himself a scotch and then turned back to me. “As I see it, our dear brother and sister don’t truly understand what it means to sacrifice for the family.”
Arcangelo had never forgiven our father for forcing him into religious orders.
Our father’s threat to disown him was a powerful motivator to fall into line.
And as far as my father was concerned, it shouldn’t have been any real sacrifice for Arcangelo, since no one expected him to take his vow of celibacy seriously.
And he didn’t.
His place in the church was about power, not God.
After approaching the bar, I poured myself a scotch. “Rafaello spent over a decade in the army.”
He drained his glass. “Please don’t insult me, dear brother, by equating Rafaello playing soldier while getting all the pussy he wanted across four continents, to being forced to exist under the constant watchful eye of God’s minions.”
Rafaello had actually seen some pretty dangerous combat, but there was no point in aggravating an old wound that would never heal.
I raised my glass in a mock surrender toast, drank, then set the glass down and turned to leave. “I’d invite you to dinner, but I don’t want you here.”
Arcangelo placed his hand over his heart. “What a gracious invitation. You read my mind. I’ve already told your chef to set another place for me. You know I can’t resist his Tagliolini ai Frutti di Mare.”
“This is your only warning, Arcangelo. If I even suspect you’re thinking about Sabrina with anything other than brotherly affection, I’ll save Benedict the trouble and cut your dick off myself.”
“Well, well, well, brother. This is an interesting development. Now I’m even more intrigued to meet the mysterious and beguiling Sabrina Dolce Badalamenti.”
Forgetting how dangerously perceptive Arcangelo could be, I realized too late that I’d revealed far more than I intended.