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“Whoops. It slipped.”
I expected fury, but he gave me a half grin as he continued down the row of vines. “You continue to surprise me, Maggie.”
He was amused? None of this was funny. “Go back to Toronto! No one wants you here!”
He didn’t respond. Just kept walking toward the middle of the vineyards, where the path led back to the main buildings. As he passed, he nodded at the other employees, members of my team who cared for the vines during the winter. No doubt everyone was wondering who this man was, why he was here.
Had Mikey told the staff? That was his responsibility, because I certainly wasn’t making the announcement.
Hey, everyone. My brother lost a shit ton of money at poker to a Toronto mobster, and the mob is taking the winery in exchange. Isn’t it great?
Tears stung my eyes, so I grabbed my shovel and attacked the pile of mulch. Goddamn it. I loved this place and I didn’t want to lose it. I could still picture my father, guiding me around the property, explaining every tree, plant, and shrub. He taught me about the life cycle of the grape, how to care for the vines. I did the best I could after he died during my senior year of high school. I dedicated myself to the winery, working each day after school and on weekends. Holidays, summers . . . every spare moment I had. There hadn’t been money or time for college. This winery was my life.
And now Mikey and I owned only thirty percent of it. God, everything sucked.
Wiping the moisture from my eyes, I dropped to my knees and spread mulch over the roots. “Don’t worry, guys,” I told the plants. “We’ll figure something out.”
four
. . .
Vito
I hadn’t expectedto stay here.
As far as I could tell, Paesano didn't have any nightlife, just one good restaurant, and no hotel. The closest thing was a small bed and breakfast called Annie’s, but was actually run by a man named Salvatore.
Nothing here made fucking sense.
I liked the clubs and restaurants in Toronto. The cafés and taverns. Having so many choices was the best part of living there. I also liked my own space, with my own bed. Not a lumpy piece of shit covered with an old quilt and surrounded by lace doilies.
But it was clear I couldn’t leave today. Not everyone here was on board with a new owner, so I needed to see things settled before I returned to Toronto. Which meant I needed a new place to stay.
As I walked into the winery’s main tasting room, warmth enveloped me. I rolled my shoulders, glad to get out of the cold. How could anyone stand being outside in this weather? MyMediterranean blood wept when the temperature went below freezing.
My three guards—Cesare, Gaetano, and Tommaso—were sitting at a table, drinking wine.Che cazzo?
I went over and frowned at them. “Is this a party?”
All three rose, guilty expressions on their faces. “They offered, Don D’Agostino,” Gaetano said with a shrug. “What were we supposed to do?”
“You say no,stronzo.” I dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “Wait here. I need to find Michael.”
I went over to the bar, where a young man was cleaning. “I need to speak with Signore Fiorentino. Do you know where I might find him?”
“Sure, hang on.” The man picked up his phone and tapped. “Mike, the guy you were meeting with earlier needs you.” A pause. “Okay, I’ll tell him.” He hung up and put his mobile on the bar. “Mike will be right out. Would you like a glass of wine while you wait?”
I realized that I hadn’t tasted my new investment yet. “What would you recommend?”
“What do you like?”
Wine produced in my own country, but I didn’t say it. “What is the best seller?”
“Oh, that’s probably our Cabernet Franc.”
“I’ll try that, then.”
The bartender set a clean glass on the bar, then grabbed a bottle from behind him. Holding the base of the glass, he poured a tiny taste and slid the glass closer to me. “Here. Give it a taste.”