Page 26

He didn’t listen.
A chilly, mirthless smile played about the edges of his mouth as he rested a hand on the oak above my right shoulder. Hesmelled good, like the fancy Italian body wash from his shower at the casino, with hints of citrus, almond, and sandalwood—and one massive note of unwanted memories.
He cheated on his wife with you.
That bolstered my courage a bit. He was the asshole, not me.
His voice was hard, like the edge of a blade. “Is it wise, do you think, to antagonize me?”
Tilting my face up, I let him see all the loathing I felt. I didn’t hide one single drop of it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His eyes dipped toward my mouth for a brief second before his wintery gaze returned to mine. “Yes, you do. You’re angry with your brother and taking it out on me.”
“Wrong. I’m also angry at you.”
“I can help you, help your brother. Help all of your employees. Wouldn’t you like to sell more wine? Maybe get an accolade, or a mention in a wine magazine?”
I didn’t answer. I wanted all those things, of course. But at what price?
He edged a tiny bit closer. His eyes were deep blue, almost black, like icy ocean waters that were infinite and mysterious. “I can do so many things for you, bella. Yet you fight me at every turn.”
Unfortunately, I felt an unwanted spark low in my belly, countering my loathing for him. My voice wasn’t nearly as steady as it should’ve been when I said, “Because you’re taking it all away from me.”
“I would much rather do this together.”
“And I would rather you went back to Toronto. To your?—”
“Wife, yes. I know.”
He pushed off the barrel and dropped back, putting distance between us. I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. My heart was still racing, but I didn’t think it was from fear.
Lifting his overcoat off the chair, he announced, “I’m not leaving. My plans haven’t changed and whoever doesn’t like it may find employment elsewhere.”
The nape of my neck burned, my toes curling with a rush of hatred. “There’s not a person alive who knows the vines and dirt of this land better than me.”
He draped his coat over his forearm and began walking toward the stairs. “No one is irreplaceable, bella. Not even you.”
six
. . .
Vito
Maggie was goingto be a problem.
She was stubborn and reckless, chaos in a beautiful package. The sort of woman who approached strange men in casino bars and propositioned them. Who antagonized mafia dons without regard for her own safety. D’Agostino men were ruthless when provoked. My brother once locked his wife in a cage, for fuck’s sake.
Yet Maggie didn’t seem to care. The more I was around her, the more she fought me.
It only made me want her again.
“God, Vito, your dick is fucking amazing. I think I’ll build a shrine to it.”
I pushed on an exit door, not caring much for where I was going. I needed a cigarette. Maggie was under my skin, little needles of irritation and lust, and I had to calm down.
The cold assaulted me so I quickly shrugged into my coat. Inside the pocket I found my pack and lighter. Inhaling my first lungful of smoke, I closed my eyes and leaned against thebuilding. After listening to Bruce, my mind now churned with ideas. This winery, it seemed to me, produced too many wines, offering a little of everything instead of a few things perfectly. Some of the world’s most successful wineries only produced one or two main blends to build their reputation on. I continued to smoke, contemplating how to approach this problem.
There wasn’t much time. I had to return to Toronto?—