Page 105 of Sins of the Son

She tried to stand. “Oh, no, is she—”

I pushed her back down by her shoulders. “Fortunately, she’s fine.”

Renata jerked her head to the side and down. “Really?” Her voice was tight and strained. “Well, she should be more careful in the future. She probably wasn’t used to walking in vintage Chanel with high heels. Some women can find the skirt confining. It takes a special skill, especially on stairs,” she rambled nervously, still avoiding eye contact. “I, of course, have no issues, but I was raised to have poise and sophistication.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I tightened my abdominal muscles, resisting the urge to throw my head back and howl with outrage and pain. This was my fault. I had brought this venomous viper into my family. All out of a misplaced sense of honor. I should have listened to my father and brother when they begged me not to marry her.

But no, I'd had to punish myself for….

I took another breath and said through clenched teeth, keeping my voice deliberately calm, “Funny, dearest, I don’t recall telling you it was a fall down the stairs.”

Renata’s head snapped up to meet my gaze. She blinked several times before responding with a laugh, the sound brittle and hard as she played with her earring. “Of course it was the stairs. How else would she fall? Unless the poor girl is so uncouth, she just trips over her own two feet on flat ground.”

“You’re right, of course.” I nodded to her glass. “You’re not drinking.”

She stared at the glass but didn’t lift it to her lips.

I knew what she was thinking.

I raised an eyebrow and leveled my gaze at her as I lifted my glass to my mouth and took a long, deliberate swallow before saying, “I really must insist that you do, darling.”

I watched her throat move as she swallowed several times before hesitantly lifting the glass to her lips. She tried to take a small sip. I placed my finger under the bottom of the glass and tipped it up.

Renata choked as the bitter liquor dribbled out of the corner of her mouth.

I took another sip, taking strange solace in the acrid, herbal taste with its hints of bitter orange and clove. “Ironic that a liquor named Amaro is making you choke.”

Renata glared at me as she swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing her lipstick.

“I understand you brought Milana flowers this morning?”

She set the glass aside and folded her hands in her lap as she straightened her back. “Since your brother and father seem determined to bring the Cavalieri name down with their choice of paramours, I thought I might as well make the best of it.” She waved her hand in the air like some exiled, long-suffering monarch. “Perhaps they will see me as a guiding influence, someone they could emulate so they don’t embarrass the family. But I was long gone before she tripped and fell, or I would, of course, have stayed to offer my help.”

I crossed to the fireplace mantle, concerned about what I might do if I stayed within striking distance of her. “That’s the worrying thing, darling. Milana is certain she didn’t trip.” I watched her closely. “She’s certain she was pushed.”

She picked up her glass and took another sip. Stalling. Finally, she said, “You don’t believe her, do you?”

“Any reason why I shouldn’t?”

“It's the oldest female trick in the book, dearest. Play the damsel in distress. First, she dredges up the past with some silly story about a harmless school prank, just to get Cesare’s attention and sympathy, and when that doesn’t get a marriage proposal out of him, she raises the stakes. Now there’s some mysterious stranger out there trying to kill her? Seriously? Milana Carbone? Who would care about killing a nobody like her?”

I looked down at my drink, swirling the liquor. “Second oldest.”

“What was that?”

I raised my head and leveled a glare at her. “Second oldest female trick. I believe the first is tricking a man into bed and getting pregnant.”

She stood. Storming over to the bar, she slammed the glass onto the mirrored surface so hard I could hear it crack from across the room. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t want it.”

I slammed my own drink onto the mantle and crossed to her. “You know damn well I thought you were your sister, Bianca.”

She raked me over with a scathing glance. “It’s not my fault you can’t hold your liquor.”

“And the text Bianca received that afternoon, supposedly from me, telling her I wanted nothing to do with her? I guess you had nothing to do with that either?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, if you’re finished, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

She crossed to the door, stopping on the threshold when I called out, “Pack your things. Tomorrow morning, I’m moving you to the cottage on the winery grounds… for your own protection… until we learn the truth about what happened to Milana.”

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