Page 25

“Bruce?” Vito said from across the room when we grew quiet.
“Yes, signore?”
“These bottles here. What are they?” He gestured to the rack, which held close to three hundred bottles of wine.
“Archives, if you will. We keep some back for ourselves to taste in future years.”
“And the labels. Who designs them?”
“My grandad,” I answered. “We’ve used the same basic design since the winery opened. It’s tradition. That’s how people recognize it’s a Fiorentino wine.”
Vito hummed in his throat, but said nothing, his hands clasped behind his back as he slowly walked the length of the rack.
I looked over at Bruce and mouthed,I’m sorry.
He shrugged. Though he was a perfectionist when it came to wine, he was pretty easy going. Leaning in, he whispered, “Maybe we can get some of those upgrades we’ve been talking about.”
“Upgrades?” Vito asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Tell me.”
Did he have super hearing?
Bruce’s neck flushed and he looked over guiltily. “Oh, we’re always looking to improve around here. I’m sure Maggie and Mike will fill you in.”
“Why don’t you fill me in.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.
Bruce cleared his throat. “We’ve been talking about getting new stainless-steel tanks that are more energy efficient. And they can insulate them now to improve temperature retention. And—should I keep going?”
Vito hadn’t turned around, so it was hard to say whether he was interested or not. “Definitely,” he said, attention still on the archive bottles.
“Well, Maggie and I have discussed better drainage systems. And there’s a way to boost sustainability by planting?—”
“I’m sure Vito doesn’t want to hear about our silly ideas,” I rushed out. “He’s still learning what we do here. Let’s save the improvement discussion for down the road.”
“Bruce.” Vito faced us, his lips flat, hand stroking his jaw. “Give us the room.”
A clear order, so I didn’t blame Bruce for immediately gathering his notes. “Of course.” Bruce cast me an apologetic look before heading for the stairs.
I kept my eyes on Vito, not intimidated in the least.
The door at the top of the stairs banged closed, signaling Bruce’s departure, and Vito began slowly closing the distance between us. The cellar was quiet except for the whisper of his expensive shoes over the old floor and the sound of my breathing. My heart picked up speed as he drew closer, throwing itself against my ribs like it was trying to escape. But I didn’t retreat.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t swindled a young man out of his family legacy. Moved into a place where I wasn’t wanted and started inserting my opinions.
No, Vito was one-hundred-percent the bad guy here.
I lifted my chin.
He didn’t stop. I thought Vito would be respectful, but he kept coming, directly into my personal space. I did start backing up then, not wanting to be touched by this man. “What are you doing? Stop right there.”
The dark blue of his eyes flashed with something indecipherable, an energy I couldn’t read. It brought me back to the night we spent together, when he’d tracked me hungrily every second that he wasn’t inside me. It wasn’t quite desire, but it was close. Possessiveness? Control?
“Get your sexy ass on the bed, bella. Your pussy needs to smother my face again.”
“Hands and knees, bella. I want to slap your ass as I fuck you.”
“Take me deep, bella. I’ll give you such a reward after you suck the come out of me.”
I stumbled slightly and my back hit a giant oak cask, the edges digging into my shoulder blades. I put up my palms. “Knock it off, Vito. Keep your distance.”