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Vito looked good.Toogood. Rested and perfect, like he hadn’t spent last night tossing and turning, too upset to sleep. Like he had no winery thefts on his conscience keeping him up.
I avoided glancing at the thick wool-covered thighs that I knew were sculpted and hard under all his clothing.He’s married! And an asshole! Stop looking at him.I zipped up my coat and slipped on my gloves, feeling like I needed more layers to protect myself, as ridiculous as it seemed.
“I’m not a guest, signorina,” were the first words out of his mouth. “Or have you forgotten?”
I clenched my jaw, then slowly forced myself to relax. “Where is your guard going? Why are you both here so early?”
“Did your brother not tell you?”
The food I’d consumed roiled in my stomach. Mouth suddenly dry, I swallowed. “Tell me, what?”
“I’m staying on the property, in the big cottage. My men are in the smaller cottages.”
The arrogance of this man. The absolute nerve. Now he wanted tolivehere?
Hatred clogged my throat as I snapped, “No, you’re not.”
He tilted his head as he regarded me coolly. “Is it me staying here that you object to, or my men? Or all of us?”
I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to find out. For god’s sake, why hadn’t Mikey warned me? I was going to strangle my brother, for real this time. “Vito, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t like it. This is a working winery, not some mobster hangout. And aren’t you worried about your security?”
“Because someone here might try to kill me?” He sipped from his coffee cup, his gaze never leaving mine. “I think we both know you would fail, bella.”
“Donotcall me that. You’re married.”
Flicking the fingers on his free hand, he said, “Italian men call every woman bella. It means nothing.”
The tips of my ears burned in the morning frost. “God, I want to punch you again.”
My words seemed to amuse him, his lips tilting on one side ever so slightly. “Then perhaps I shouldn’t tell you that I’m making improvements to the cottage today.”
I gaped at him. When I collected my thoughts out of the flaming dumpster fire that was my hatred for this man,I said, “The cottage is practically brand new. It needs no improvements.”
“I won’t do anything major.” He lifted a heavy shoulder. “Just an espresso machine and some blinds.”
Except the windows were purposely bare so visitors could enjoy the full beauty of the vineyard during their stay. At least those could be removed after Vito went back to Canada. “Fine, but we’re keeping that espresso machine when you leave.”
The alarm on my phone went off, reminding me of my meeting with Bruce. I shut it off, then put my cell into my jacket pocket. “I have to go. Stay in your cottage, keep out of the way.”
“Off to mulch your plants again?”
“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m meeting with our vintner this morning to taste some reserve wines.”
He sipped his coffee again, calmly observing me with his sharp eyes. “This sounds like an activity for the winery owner as well, no?”
I dug my toes into the ends of my boots and seriously debated kicking him. “No, it doesn’t, actually. The owner should return to his cottage and concentrate on his business, not everyone else’s.”
That got a chin lift out of him, the infuriating man. “I will come along. Lead the way, bella.”
I didn’t wait for him. I strode rapidly toward the processing facility, hoping to lose him along the way. Stainless steel vats and cases of empty bottles stood silent as I passed through. The vats held what would become our signature whites, while the bottling machinery remained dormant on the far wall. This was the less romantic part, the practical part, of crafting wine.
All the exciting stuff was below ground.
The heavy metal door swung open as I pulled. Going through, I didn’t bother holding the door open for anyone else. Let him figure it out.