Page 10 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

We tried a few more of the wines Bruce was tracking. Vito grew bored, I assumed, because he started wandering around while Bruce and I discussed the status of each wine. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him examine the barrels, then study some of the bottles resting in a rack on the far wall.

The urge to tell him to mind his own business was strong, but then I reminded myself that this was his business. Literally.

“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.”

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. He smelled 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.”