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Thank God it’s a pretty face, for both of their sakes.
And thank God even more for the fact that her personality is all mine.
I’m capable of remembering how handsome Elio is for sure.
But Ican’tremember it.
Because if I think about how attractive he is, how he makes my knees feel soft and wobbly when he smiles that dimpled smile, I’m going to do something stupid.
And I can’t be stupid.
Not in this.
Not when so much is riding on it.
Elio Rossi made me very, very stupid once.
And I’m never going to be that girl again.
2
ELIO
There’s onlyone week left until I finally get my revenge on Marco De Luca.
It’s going to be the longest fucking week of my life.
Since I dislike spending any time stewing in my own dread, I’ve decided to spend the week at my villa in Tivoli as a way to avoid the impending disaster of the marriage contract.
It’s a little treat. Something I’m giving myself before my life totally goes to hell, and I turn into the villain in so many stories.
It’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that our parents will finally be avenged.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the light scent of the orange blossoms from the trees that are scattered through my property.
I love it here. This is the only one of our many familial properties and holdings that is truly and completely mine. I bought it seven years ago, intending for the villa to be a wedding gift for the beautiful and young Caterina De Luca.
She never saw it, so it became a gift to me. It’s a haven, of sorts, that I have used many times since that horrible night.
If I had to, however, I’d trade it to have my parents back in a heartbeat.
I’m brought from my reverie by the crisp sound of heels clicking down the marble hallway to my office. “Boss,” my twin sister Gia, knocks on the doorframe in a very cursory gesture of respect before entering my space. “New intel.”
I grimace.
First, Gia only calls me ‘boss’ when she’s got some really fucking bad news.
Second, if the intel is new, I don’t want it.
The plan was perfect as I had it. If there are any adjustments, any pivots…
That perfection is gone.
And I demand nothing but perfection.
Softly I curse in Italian before looking at my sister. “What, Gia?”
She raises her eyebrows, and her hands crack like she’s holding back from punching me in the face.
