Page 8 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

five

. . .

Maggie

The all caps text came in as I was washing my face.

I HEARD ABOUT THE WINERY. I’M COMING BACK

I rinsed and patted my skin dry. Then I sent Val an all-caps message of my own.

DON’T YOU DARE

YOU’RE ON YOUR HONEYMOON FFS

My cell rang a second later.

“I don’t care,” my best friend said. “You must be freaking out. I should be there.”

“No, you should be with your husband. In Catanzaro. Enjoying your belated honeymoon. If you come back early, I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Mags, I can press pause on my three-month honeymoon. This is your family’s winery! I can’t believe Mikey lost it in a poker game.”

My chest hollowed out, the empty and aching feeling returning once again. “Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

“Like, this is a hundred times worse than when he disappeared after your parents died. Remember when we didn’t hear from him for two months?”

Remember? The terror of those eight weeks was burned into my brain.

Without telling me, Mikey went to New Mexico to “find” himself—which meant doing a lot of Ayahuasca in the desert.

My aunt was still living here, helping me with the winery, but I’d been worried sick.

My brother could be an immature asshole sometimes.

“Still,” I told her. “You don’t need to worry. I’m handling it.”

There was a long pause. “What do you mean, you’re handling it?”

“It means I’m figuring out how to get rid of Vito.”

She sucked in a breath, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Like . . . kill him?”

“No!” Then my horror receded and I considered it. “Unless . . . Do you think I could find someone who might be willing?—”

“Maggie! Jesus. Don’t even consider it. I’ve been inside a jail before and I don’t ever want to do it again.”

I went into my bedroom and pulled out my clothes to get dressed for the day. “Fine. I won’t murder him. But I will make his life a living hell.”

“Listen, I know that’s tempting, but he’s a mob boss. You don’t want to poke that bear, trust me. These are not the kind of men we’re used to dealing with.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not scared of Vito D’Agostino.”

“Maybe you should be. Did you know his brother is also a mob boss? In Italy. And his nickname is ‘the madman.’ I’ve met him and he’s scary as fuck.”

Shit, I didn’t know that. But it didn’t matter. “All I want is for Vito to return the winery to me and get his sexy ass back to Canada. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

I realized my mistake the instant my mouth stopped moving.

Dummy! Why had I said anything about Vito being?—

“ Sexy? ” she nearly shouted. “Okay, what aren’t you telling me?”

A lot, actually. I played dumb. “Have you seen him?”

“Uh, no. I mean, sort of. At a distance, but I mostly saw the side of his head.”

“He’s pretty hot, Val. Not that I care.”

“Sure, sure.” She paused. “Have you slept with him?”

Val knew me too well. And I hated lying to her. But my one-night stand with Vito was coming with me to the grave. It was bad enough that my brother knew. “No! First of all, he’s married. Second, he’s too old for me. And oh, in case anyone forgot— he stole the winery from us .”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I just got a vibe, but it was clearly wrong. So, tell me what you’re planning. Maybe Luca could loan you?—”

“No way.” I stopped tying my work boots and straightened. “I don’t want to involve you or your man. It’s kind of you to offer, but I’m not borrowing money from anyone.” Especially my best friend.

“Well, it wouldn’t work anyway. Luca just told me he offered to give Vito the money and Vito said no.”

That asshole. Of course he had.

“I think I will stick around awhile. Ensure my investment is used wisely.”

“He’s such a dick,” I said and went back to my laces.

“Hmm. Maybe this will be a good thing in the long run. Like Luca and the trattoria.”

I frowned at the floor. “Val, he isn’t the mafia fairy, paying for shit from afar like Luca did. Vito now owns most of the winery. Mikey and I collectively only own thirty percent— and Vito wants to change the name.”

“Oof,” Val said. “That’s harsh. But maybe you can convince him to leave it.”

I had to. Because the prospect of the Fiorentino Winery disappearing for good was too much for me to handle. “Listen, I gotta go. Daylight is burning.”

“Okay, go tend to your vines. Just try not to antagonize Vito. I don’t want to worry about you.”

“You don’t need to worry. I will treat him exactly as he deserves.”

“Fuck. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Later, babe!” I disconnected and slipped my phone into my coat pocket.

I loved Val and there was no reason to ruin her vacation with my troubles. She and Luca were disgustingly happy together, and they deserved to worry about themselves, not me.

Minutes later, with a travel mug of hot coffee clutched in my gloved hand, I slipped out of the house and shut the door.

I never bothered locking it. No one would break into my parents’ house here on the winery property.

Even if someone were able to wander around the grounds unchecked, everyone in town knew there wasn’t anything valuable inside.

The cold air slapped my face and I burrowed deeper into my coat.

January in the Hudson Valley wasn’t for the faint of heart, especially the early mornings.

Sleeping in wasn’t an option, though. I got up around five-thirty or six every day—even when I stayed out late the night before.

I hadn’t slept past seven o’clock since my parents died.

The vines don’t care if you’re tired.

Each time I’d complained about the early mornings, my dad repeated these words. I missed him so much. None of this mess would’ve happened if my parents were still here. Fuck those motorcyclists that ran my dad’s car off the road and caused him to hit a tree.

The main building loomed ahead, dark and quiet.

Mikey and Celeste worked an event last night, so I didn’t expect to see them anytime soon.

I hadn’t stayed to help out. The thought of smiling and pouring drinks, while forced to look at my brother’s face all night, made me want to commit violence.

I would talk to Mikey, but not until after I’d calmed down.

The winery was built like a horseshoe, with the dining area and tasting room at one end, while the production area and cellars were at the other.

I headed for the kitchen, on the hunt for last night’s catering leftovers.

I wasn’t much for breakfast foods. I’d much rather have a few pigs in a blanket and mushroom tarts any day of the week.

Once I had a plate filled with goodies from the giant cooler, I sat at the bar and checked my phone, reviewing reports from Bruce.

He’d been my mentor ever since my father passed away.

After I graduated high school, Bruce had been the one to encourage me to take viticulture classes and to spend a summer interning at a Long Island vineyard.

He helped me overcome my fear of trying to follow in my father’s footsteps.

I could never have done this job without him.

As vintner, Bruce carefully tracked the progress of every oak barrel and stainless-steel tank throughout the fermentation process.

Most of October’s harvest wouldn’t be ready for bottling until late May or early June, with the darker reds taking until August or September.

But some reserve wines were on a twelve-month cycle.

Bruce wanted to taste a few of those this morning, which was why I stopped for food and hadn’t brushed my teeth this morning.

Toothpaste would alter the flavor of the wine.

When I finished eating, I threw away my plate and started through the empty space, my boots echoing on the old wood floors. As I passed the row of windows, I saw a man outside. I drew to a halt and reached for my cell in my jacket pocket.

It was a large man, and he was holding a drink carrier and a white paper bag, tromping through the estate toward the cottages. He wore an overcoat, much like the one?—

Vito appeared a few steps behind.

Goddamn it. What in the hell was he doing here so early?

And why were they walking past this building and onto the property?

Vito’s head was high, his shoulders back. He acted like owned the place. Which he technically did, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

I opened the terrace door and called, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? We don’t allow guests on the grounds this early.”

They both stopped and glanced toward me. Vito murmured something to his man, who nodded and continued on, while his boss walked in my direction.

Vito looked good. Too good. Rested and perfect, like he hadn’t spent last night tossing and turning, too upset to sleep. Like he had no winery thefts on his conscience keeping him up.

I avoided glancing at the thick wool-covered thighs that I knew were sculpted and hard under all his clothing. He’s married! And an asshole! Stop looking at him. I zipped up my coat and slipped on my gloves, feeling like I needed more layers to protect myself, as ridiculous as it seemed.

“I’m not a guest, signorina,” were the first words out of his mouth. “Or have you forgotten?”

I clenched my jaw, then slowly forced myself to relax. “Where is your guard going? Why are you both here so early?”

“Did your brother not tell you?”

The food I’d consumed roiled in my stomach. Mouth suddenly dry, I swallowed. “Tell me, what?”

“I’m staying on the property, in the big cottage. My men are in the smaller cottages.”

The arrogance of this man. The absolute nerve. Now he wanted to live here?

Hatred clogged my throat as I snapped, “No, you’re not.”

He tilted his head as he regarded me coolly. “Is it me staying here that you object to, or my men? Or all of us?”

I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to find out. For god’s sake, why hadn’t Mikey warned me? I was going to strangle my brother, for real this time. “Vito, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”