Page 6 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

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. . .

Vito

I hadn’t expected to stay here.

As far as I could tell, Paesano didn't have any nightlife, just one good restaurant, and no hotel. The closest thing was a small bed and breakfast called Annie’s, but was actually run by a man named Salvatore.

Nothing here made fucking sense.

I liked the clubs and restaurants in Toronto. The cafés and taverns. Having so many choices was the best part of living there. I also liked my own space, with my own bed. Not a lumpy piece of shit covered with an old quilt and surrounded by lace doilies.

But it was clear I couldn’t leave today. Not everyone here was on board with a new owner, so I needed to see things settled before I returned to Toronto. Which meant I needed a new place to stay.

As I walked into the winery’s main tasting room, warmth enveloped me. I rolled my shoulders, glad to get out of the cold. How could anyone stand being outside in this weather? My Mediterranean blood wept when the temperature went below freezing.

My three guards—Cesare, Gaetano, and Tommaso—were sitting at a table, drinking wine. Che cazzo?

I went over and frowned at them. “Is this a party?”

All three rose, guilty expressions on their faces. “They offered, Don D’Agostino,” Gaetano said with a shrug. “What were we supposed to do?”

“You say no, stronzo .” I dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “Wait here. I need to find Michael.”

I went over to the bar, where a young man was cleaning. “I need to speak with Signore Fiorentino. Do you know where I might find him?”

“Sure, hang on.” The man picked up his phone and tapped. “Mike, the guy you were meeting with earlier needs you.” A pause. “Okay, I’ll tell him.” He hung up and put his mobile on the bar. “Mike will be right out. Would you like a glass of wine while you wait?”

I realized that I hadn’t tasted my new investment yet. “What would you recommend?”

“What do you like?”

Wine produced in my own country, but I didn’t say it. “What is the best seller?”

“Oh, that’s probably our Cabernet Franc.”

“I’ll try that, then.”

The bartender set a clean glass on the bar, then grabbed a bottle from behind him. Holding the base of the glass, he poured a tiny taste and slid the glass closer to me. “Here. Give it a taste.”

I lifted the glass by the stem and took a sip. Too dark, too strong. No subtlety. I was used to the finest wines in the world and this was an assault on my tastebuds.

I placed the glass on the bar. “No, not this.”

The bartender appeared confused. “Would you like to try something else? A chardonnay? Rosé? Maybe white wine is more your speed.”

“I’ve decided I’m not in the mood for wine, but I appreciate your help.” I pulled another fifty from my money clip and placed it on the bar.

“Oh, that’s not?—”

I pushed the money closer. “I insist.”

“Well, thank you. That’s very nice of you, sir.”

I nodded once, then Michael was standing at the bar, his eyes rimmed red. Had he been crying? Leaning on the wood, I waited for him to join me.

“Was there something else you needed, Signore D’Agostino?” he asked.

I put my hand on his shoulder. I was about a decade older than him, so I felt qualified in offering advice. “Michael, you cannot change the past. Pull yourself together and move forward. It’s the best any of us can do when we find ourselves in new situations.”

“I know. It’s just . . . Maggie is so fucking mad at me. And I have no idea how to tell the staff.”

“Maggie will come around. I spoke to her outside and told her what I told you: think of me as an investor. We’re going to make the winery better, capisce?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

I dropped my hand. “I’ll tell your staff. Organize a meeting tomorrow. We’ll reassure them that their jobs are secure.”

He sagged, seemingly relieved. Had this been weighing on him?

I had to spin this in a positive light. They were both practically kids and this was a huge responsibility. They should both be thanking me for helping them. “Michael, I will take some of the burden off your shoulders. You and Maggie are no longer doing this alone.”

“I know, I know. It’s all happening so fast.”

“Fast isn’t necessarily bad. Now, I have a request.” I gestured outside to the property. “Are there guest houses or cottages on the estate? I would like to move out of the bed and breakfast.”

“I-I thought you’d be returning to Toronto.”

He and his sister thought alike, apparently. “I plan to, but not for a little bit. I’d like to stay here, smooth over the transition. A few weeks at most.”

“Uh, okay. There are properties on the estate that we rent out to guests. Like for weddings and events. Would you like me to show them to you?”

“If it’s not too much trouble. And there must be more than one. My men need a place to stay, as well.”

“Sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. I should warn you, though. Maggie really isn’t going to like this.”

I was counting on it.

Something about fighting with her, about how she stood up to me, was both amusing and infuriating at once. I enjoyed needling her. This woman was much different than the confident seductress from the casino. And I was discovering that I could appreciate both. Very much.

Minutes later I was back out in the cold, walking with Michael on the grounds.

He greeted the winery workers as we passed, saying their names and asking after their families.

People liked Michael. It was clear in how they responded and interacted with him.

I could see why he was the winery’s front man and Maggie dealt with the plants.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” I asked.

“No, of course not.”

I took out my cigarettes and lighter. “Your sister had a different opinion.”

“Yeah, she would.” He pointed left when the path diverged. “She’s very protective of the vines.”

I could respect it. Lighting the cigarette, I took a long drag and let the smoke fill my lungs. I didn’t often smoke—maybe one or two cigarettes a day, at most—but for some reason I felt off kilter, out of my element. I needed to relax.

“Can I have one?” Michael said, gesturing to my pack as I started to put it away.

Silently, I offered a cigarette and the lighter.

The tip of the paper flared as Michael inhaled. “Man, that’s good. I rarely get to smoke cigarettes.” He handed me the lighter.

“Why is that?”

“I work in a winery, dude. I can’t have my taste buds dulled by tar and chemicals.”

That made sense, I supposed. “I started smoking when I was trapped on a yacht for a few years.”

“A few years? Holy shit.”

I pulled in another lungful of smoke, held it, then exhaled. “It’s a long story.”

“Listen, Vito. About changing the name of the winery? I’m begging you not to do it. This place has history. My family, my grandfather . . . I mean, please . You can’t do this.”

“As your investor and principal owner, I can and will.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered and took a long drag off his cigarette. His hands were shaking. “I’ve really ruined everything.”

I thought he might start crying again. “Michael, you’re, what?

Twenty-five, twenty-six? Your sister is twenty-three.

The odds that you two would be able to carry this place alone were astronomical.

If I didn’t take over, another investment group or winery would.

It’s the nature of the business world. Kill or be killed. ”

“It wasn’t that bad. We weren’t making money, but we weren’t much in the red, either. Jesus fucking Christ.” He rubbed his eye with his fingers. “She’s never going to speak to me again.”

“It will take time, but Maggie will accept this. Te lo prometto. ”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means, I promise you.”

His shoulders drooped as he exhaled. “Let’s keep going. I have to finish preparing for a dinner group coming in an hour.”

We came around a bend and a two-story cottage appeared.

Vertical white siding ran along the outside, with giant windows overlooking the vineyards.

A black slanted roof covered the top. There were two porches, one on the ground level, and one off the second floor.

It wasn’t a palace, but it was a hell of a lot nicer than the B&B.

Michael walked up onto the lower porch and took out his keys. “We built this place for the rental revenue and it’s done fairly well. It’s not booked again until Valentine’s Day, though.” He unlocked the door and went in. I put out my cigarette and followed him inside.

He pointed to the staircase. “There are two bedrooms upstairs. Then we have two smaller cottages that are a five-minute walk away.”

I checked out the interior. Small kitchen, living space. On the walls were snowshoes and fishing poles, plus a few wine-related paintings in a not-so subtle attempt at decorating. At least the ceilings were high and the light was nice.

On the second floor I discovered two small bedrooms, each not much bigger than a stateroom on my brother’s yacht.

I knocked on the wall between the rooms. Hollow.

I could knock this wall down and make one big bedroom.

The main bathroom, which was nice, had a large walk-in shower and a sky light. At least this room didn’t need changes.

Michael was scrolling on his phone when I returned to the first floor. “This is fine. I’ll have my guards bring our things over today.”

“Okay. You might want to stop by the market, too. I don’t think there’s any food in here.”

“Thank you, we will. Incidentally, where do you and Signorina Fiorentino live?”

“I live upstairs in the main building, above the tasting room. Maggie wanted her own space, so she moved into my parents’ old place. It’s a small house on the other side of the main building, out toward the south end of the vineyard.”

Interesting.

“But—” He bit off the rest of his sentence.

“Yes?”

“Look, I know you two hooked up at the casino. I’m just hoping you aren’t here for her. Like, I know you’re married, but my sister is off limits.”

Not sure why, but I admitted the truth to her brother. “I’m not married.”