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I sat up straight, my heart thundering, slamming in my chest. His face told me this was bad. Very bad. I could sense it coming from every cell in his body.
I unbuckled my seat belt and angled toward him. “What do you mean? What happened?”
His voice was calm, quiet. “The cottage caught on fire last night. The fire spread. I don’t know the extent of the damage yet.”
Fire. Oh, my god.
The vines. Shit!
I turned on my phone, ready to make calls, but Vito put his hand out. “Bella, no calls in the air. We’ll find out the answers when we land.”
I clutched my phone, strangling it in my grip. “Was anyone hurt?” My voice cracked on the question.
“No. The cottage was empty. The other buildings were not affected.”
“Well, how much of the vineyard was affected?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Fuck!” All my fear and panic turned on him. “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? I could’ve called Mikey from the penthouse. You purposely kept this from me!”
“Your brother is dealing with the fire department. My men are also there to help. There’s nothing you can do at the momentbut distract him from what’s happening there. My priority is your safety and making sure we get back quickly.”
He was so calm and reasonable. But I didn’t like secrets, especially when it came to the winery. Was he withholding more bad news? “We will be discussing this later. I’m really fucking pissed at you for not telling me.”
“That is your right, but I will sometimes make decisions that you do not like. Especially if I think it is important for your safety.”
That answer was bullshit, but I didn’t have the energy to fight with him right now. I was too mad and too worried. My mind was already dreaming up every worst-case scenario that I could imagine. A fire could destroy acres. Not to mention that people could’ve died.
I willed the plane to go faster. Though he remained silent beside me, Vito never let go of my hand.
The drive seemed to take forever.
I turned my phone back on when we landed, but there weren’t any texts or calls. My brother didn’t answer, either. During the ride, Vito was busy texting. When I asked for updates, he said there wasn’t any new information and we’d assess the damage for ourselves when we arrived.
One question kept bothering me. How did the cottage catch fire? Everything had been done to code and properly inspected. So, was it one of the renovations Vito had ordered? Did he leave the espresso machine on? Not clean out the lint trap in the dryer? It didn’t make any sense.
I prayed that the majority of the vineyard remained intact. The Red Blotch was bad enough—and that affected a smallsection of only the Cabernet Franc vines, according to the tests results. I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost more. The good news was fire had difficulty spreading in a vineyard because of the open space and moisture. I’ve heard that California wildfires often come up to the edge of vineyards and just stop.
So maybe it wouldn’t be bad.
Emergency vehicles and cars of every kind clogged the winery parking lot. My heart was racing. As soon as the SUV slowed, I pushed open my door and hopped down to the gravel lot.
Then I took off.
“Maggie!” I heard Vito call behind me—but I wouldn’t be stopped. I ran, my arms and legs pumping, with my mind solely focused on seeing for myself.
As I rounded the corner of the winery building, I smelled it. Burnt wood.
No, no, no. A tiny section, please. A row, maybe two. Not the whole goddamn?—
I jerked to a halt. My eyes could barely take it in.
Row after row of black, charred nubs. Ash. Soot. Smoldering smoke.
At least half the vineyard was gone.
I dropped to my knees in the soggy mud.