Page 5 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

“Seventy percent,” I said crisply.

“Fuck that!” Maggie struggled against her brother’s hold. “I’m not giving that asshole a goddamn thing!”

“Shut up!” Michael ordered and kept going. Then the door slammed shut and I could hear them arguing in the hall as they walked away.

A deep breath later and my mind cleared. Unlike my brothers, I wasn’t one to easily lose my cool. And even when I did, it didn’t last long. I preferred using my brain to my fists.

Rubbing my stomach, I stared at the door. Maggie had a hell of a right hook. She was tough, this woman. Also soft and funny. And fantastic in bed. I hadn’t realized there were so many facets to Maggie, but I liked them all. If I ever broke my no-repeat rule, it could easily be with her.

But I wouldn’t. Besides, she thought I was married. This was for the best.

Maggie

Grinding my teeth, I jabbed the shovel into the wheelbarrow of mulch. Then I lifted the shovel and spread mulch over the vine roots, trying to be careful despite my fury. My babies didn’t deserve my anger.

A day after receiving the worst news of my life, I was still trying to wrap my head around it. How could Mikey do this to me? To the winery? To our staff?

God, the staff.

How were we supposed to explain this to the eighteen winery employees? Oh, no big deal. One of the owners is an idiot and we’ve been taken over by a mob boss.

And Vito was fucking married?

That dick. He’d broken his marriage vows and turned me into a homewrecker. The other woman. A mistress. Something I swore I’d never become.

What a scumbag.

I shook myself. You’re focusing on the wrong thing. That scumbag now had a majority interest in our winery, which was all that mattered.

Mikey had arranged everything yesterday, calling our lawyer and asking him to draw up paperwork that would hand seventy percent of the winery over to that Italian maniac. Vito was probably signing the papers at this very moment.

I couldn’t stand to watch. This was Mikey’s mess, so let him deal with Vito. I’d rather be outside with the plants anyway.

And when I was ready to have a civil conversation with my brother, it was forcing him to go to Gamblers Anonymous. Because this was bullshit. I’d lost everything because my brother had an addiction.

Blowing out a white cloud of breath in the cold, I put down the shovel.

Then I got down on my hands and knees to evenly spread the mulch.

I had to find a way to get rid of Vito. To buy the winery back.

He lived in Toronto, so why in the hell would he want a business here?

And it wasn’t like our winery was profitable.

Vineyards were unpredictable, the grapes fickle little bitches.

One year was up, the next down. As far as investments went, this was a bad one.

Last night I considered reaching out to Val and Luca. My best friend’s husband was also a mob boss and he loved Val. Better yet, he definitely had the money and influence to get rid of Vito.

Except Val and Luca were in Italy on their long-postponed honeymoon. What kind of a shitty, selfish friend messaged a honeymooning couple to complain about their problems?

It’s not just a problem. This is the winery. This place was my entire life.

Still, I couldn’t do it. If I convinced Luca to loan me the money to get rid of Vito, then I would owe Luca—and therefore Val—a huge chunk of cash.

And that was weird. Borrowing money from a friend always ruined the relationship.

Especially true in this case, because I didn’t think we’d ever be able to pay back such a large amount.

I’d still be owned by the mob, just a different mobster.

God, I wanted to strangle my brother. Our parents were surely spinning in their graves right now.

“ Allora . Here you are.”

At the deep Italian baritone, I sat on my heels and dusted off my hands. Vito D’Agostino stood a few feet from me, once again in his fancy black overcoat. The devil wore Prada, indeed.

My baseball hat blocked most of the winter glare, but I still had to squint up at him. “What do you want, Vito? I’m a little busy.”

“Merely wondering why you weren’t present to sign the paperwork.”

To see him gloat? To let him witness my heartbreak? No, thanks. “You might want to learn a little bit about your new investment, boss. You see, this is a working winery. My job is to ensure that we actually grow grapes to produce into wine. Get it?”

He cocked his head thoughtfully and regarded me, his expression revealing nothing. “Is this going to be a problem?”

I couldn’t tolerate another second of kneeling at this man’s feet, so I stood up. “You, having majority ownership of my winery? Yes, it’s going to be a very big problem. A huge problem. So why don’t you hurry back to Toronto and let me do my job?”

“I know this is a blow to your pride—” I made a choking noise in my throat, yet he ignored me “—but are you too stubborn to see how this might benefit you?”

“Benefit me? I’ve lost almost everything.” I folded my arms. “How does that benefit me, exactly?”

Vito reached into his overcoat pocket and my blood went colder than the air around us. I took a step back and glanced around for help. Was this it? Was he going to kill me?

“Calm down,” he said, then presented a pack of cigarettes in his gloved hand.

“You smoke? ” I hadn’t smelled any smoke on him the night we were together. There hadn’t been any cigarettes around, either.

“Not in the casino, obviously.” He opened the pack and fished out a cigarette.

The shock wore off and I snapped, “Do not smoke around my vines.”

His eyebrows lowered. “Why not? We’re outside.”

“It can taint the plants. Jesus!”

He sighed and put the cigarettes away. “Maggie, think. You yourself said the winery wasn’t profitable. Consider me an investor. I want to upgrade things here and make us all a lot of money.”

He made it sound so easy, so tempting. “Are you telling me this money comes without strings?”

“What strings?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Gloved fingers rubbed across his jaw. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

I didn’t care for the way he rubbed his face, like he was contemplating delivering bad news. “Really? Because you seem the type who would definitely give it thought.”

He stared at the ground, but I could see his lips twitch. Was he fighting a smile? “ Dai , you are right,” he said. “I plan to rename the winery after my family?—”

“Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

When he met my gaze there was no yield, no warmth in his deep blue irises. The sexy playful man from our night together was nowhere to be found. He regarded me like a nuisance, not a woman he’d made come seven times. “You have no choice. It has already been put into the contract.”

My stomach twisted painfully. This couldn’t be true. Too furious and hurt, I hadn’t stopped to read the contract, just scribbled my name and escaped outside. “You can’t change the name. We’ve spent more than sixty years building up the Fiorentino brand.”

“A brand that you said yourself is failing.”

“It doesn’t matter. People know our name and recognize our wines.”

“They will come to recognize my name, as well. It just takes time.”

“Why are you doing this?” I lifted my arms and let them fall to my sides, helpless. “I don’t get it. Racketeering and blackmailing not paying well enough up north?”

Something twitched in his expression, a tiny crack in his exterior, but was gone as he stepped closer.

I couldn’t retreat without trampling the vines, so I remained perfectly still.

The edges of his open overcoat brushed my thighs as he leaned in.

“Those things pay very well, actually. But this is not all I do up north. Would you like a comprehensive list?”

I didn’t need it. I could guess, based on what I knew of Luca Benetti. Drugs, fraud. Probably murder.

I swallowed. “You’re going to use my winery to launder money, aren’t you?”

A gloved finger slid across my jaw and his voice turned seductive. More like the man from the casino. “I don’t know, bella. Am I?”

A shiver went through me, one that I blamed on the cold temperatures. “Go back to Toronto, Vito. Leave the winery alone.”

He hummed deep in his chest as his finger gently traced the side of my throat. “You know, I think I will stick around awhile. Ensure my investment is used wisely.”

I shoved his hand away. “And what will your wife think of all this? Isn’t she wondering where you are by now?”

“You think all wives are attached to their husbands?” His hand fell and he put distance between us. “See you around, Maggie.”

I watched him walk away, his broad shoulders filling out the sleek overcoat, designer shoes crunching on the cold ground. I felt so powerless, so furious. This man was ruining my life.

Without thinking, I picked up a frozen clod of leaves and dirt. Then I drew back my arm and threw the clump as hard as I could. The dirt ball hit him right between the shoulder blades and brown dust exploded on his precious coat.

He paused, then peered over his shoulder. “Did you throw dirt at me?”

“Whoops. It slipped.”

I expected fury, but he gave me a half grin as he continued down the row of vines. “You continue to surprise me, Maggie.”

He was amused? None of this was funny. “Go back to Toronto! No one wants you here!”

He didn’t respond. Just kept walking toward the middle of the vineyards, where the path led back to the main buildings. As he passed, he nodded at the other employees, members of my team who cared for the vines during the winter. No doubt everyone was wondering who this man was, why he was here.

Had Mikey told the staff? That was his responsibility, because I certainly wasn’t making the announcement.

Hey, everyone. My brother lost a shit ton of money at poker to a Toronto mobster, and the mob is taking the winery in exchange. Isn’t it great?

Tears stung my eyes, so I grabbed my shovel and attacked the pile of mulch.

Goddamn it. I loved this place and I didn’t want to lose it.

I could still picture my father, guiding me around the property, explaining every tree, plant, and shrub.

He taught me about the life cycle of the grape, how to care for the vines.

I did the best I could after he died during my senior year of high school.

I dedicated myself to the winery, working each day after school and on weekends.

Holidays, summers . . . every spare moment I had.

There hadn’t been money or time for college. This winery was my life.

And now Mikey and I owned only thirty percent of it. God, everything sucked.

Wiping the moisture from my eyes, I dropped to my knees and spread mulch over the roots. “Don’t worry, guys,” I told the plants. “We’ll figure something out.”