The Italian

by Beverly Preston

  “I don’t work for you. I work for Tracy, remember?”

  “I mentioned it to her recently. We still need to work out the details.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “When did you mention it to Tracy?”

  His response came as a devilishly naughty laugh.

  “Antonio?” she screeched, slapping her hand on the console between them as she glared at his profile. “Oh, my God. Does Tracy even know about this?”

  “Okay, okay. Yes, she knows. I briefly mentioned it to her tonight and she’s on board.”

  Hope pushed out a deep sigh, emptying her lungs of air. “I’m not really comfortable risking a two-million-dollar deal, so you can prove that your girlfriend can take down her nemesis . . . but I’ll do it. However, I refuse to go into this meeting blind. I need to know where you’re at. What are your hard limits?

  “Actually, it’s a three-million-dollar deal, at minimum. We want to offer fifty percent more wine at a better price.”

  “Of course you do.” Her tone mocking.

  “Hope, you’re either going to close the deal or you’re not. Either way, you’re going to do it better than I can. If you think I’m happy about that, you’re wrong. My ego can barely take it. But the fact of the matter is that my soon-to-be wife is a much better negotiator, so I need to accept that. Right?”

  Her heart soared and she couldn’t stop the goofy grin from spreading over her entire face.

  “Your endearing qualities have no limits.” She tilted her head to the side, offering her neck for a kiss. “I don’t like being responsible for this. This isn’t a multi-billion-dollar company we’re talking about, this is your family’s estate, your livelihood.”

  “We’re actually talking about our children’s future.” He lowered his mouth to the nerve-rich area behind her ear, biting gently. Chiding lightly through a humorous groan, he added, “So don’t fuck it up.”

  Samantha glared at Hope’s outstretched hand as if it were diseased. Tension, thick and uncomfortable, occupied the space between them. Holding to the pretense that they could remain cordial, Hope casually dropped her hand to her side, taking the seat behind her desk.

  Keeping up the niceties, Samantha kept her razor-sharp teeth neatly tucked away behind her tinted red lips . . . for a minute. “I see since you couldn’t make it on your own in the working world outside of Boxco, you’ve decided to marry for . . . love.”

  A crawling sensation prickled over her skin. Hope swallowed hard and cleared the loathing from her tone, keeping it light and crisp. “Antonio and I have dated for years and I won’t be giving up my career for motherhood, not that either of those things are any of your business or what we need to get done here today.”

  “Like I mentioned before, I think you paid up last year on the Giovanni’s contract, so Boxco won’t be offering the same deal now that I’m handling the contract.” Her fine features remained perfectly paralyzed.

  Buying and selling, no matter what the product, could sometimes boil down to a good old-fashioned game of poker. Rule number one . . . never show your tell, and Samantha was the master. However, her arrogance was a weakness, and Hope intended to exploit it.

  “I think we can do a little better. We’re offering fifty percent more product at four million dollars.”

  “You’re never going to close that deal. You know you’re reaching for stars, Hope.”

  The room became deadly silent. After a full minute, the air conditioning kicked on, mercifully fanning Hope’s face. Samantha’s brow perked upward over one eye.

  Her tell.

  It took everything Hope had inside not to crack a knowing smile.

  “We’d also like to bring in at least one special events representative from the vineyard to travel the regions and sell our wine.”

  “That’s a nice little added bonus, Hope, but you’re way out of the ballpark.”

  “No, I’m right on point and you know it. That puts the pricing right at thirteen dollars a bottle. The sweet spot . . . isn’t that what you used to call it?”

  Hope toyed with the notion of mentioning the fact that Boxco’s biggest competitor would also be bidding for their wine, but she held back. No need to push buttons. Samantha was well aware of the guest list from the night before.

  “Three and a half is the best I’m going to offer,” Samantha said staunchly.

  “Castello Giovanni wine was one of Boxco’s biggest sellers last year.” The baby stretched inside, pushing a body part far beyond the normal roundness of her belly.

  Samantha made a horrific face. “That thing looks like it’s going to kick its way out.”

  “The baby will find its way out soon enough.” Hope showed zero emotion, reining in the protective instinct to smack Samantha across the face. “Three million eight hundred thousand will get this deal closed, but that’s my best offer. Take it or leave it, Samantha.”

  A soft rap at the door startled both women. Tracy poked her head into her office. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were still in a meeting.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll be done shortly. Can it wait?”

  “Sure, just stop by my office as soon as you’re done. I’ve got three buyers who want to meet before they leave Tuscany, two tomorrow and one Friday.”

  “I’ll bring my laptop so we can put them on the schedule.”

  “Perfect. Nice seeing you again, Samantha,” Tracy said, before closing the door.

  The tension was so thick she could’ve cut it with a knife, each woman assessing the other. Hope could see Samantha’s calculated mind turning, working over the numbers and the consequences of returning to the states empty handed. Not closing the deal would leave a dark smudge on her reputation.

  Samantha rose to her feet, without saying a word. She turned on a heel and started for the door. Hope’s ego slowly began to deflate like a party balloon punctured by a quick prick of a pin.

  “You have a deal. Send over an email outlining the details.”

  Without bothering to look back, Samantha made haste, marching out of her office.

  Hope waited approximately one minute before jumping to her feet to do a celebratory dance around her desk. Gathering up her things, she made a beeline for Tracy’s office, but was surprised when she didn’t answer. She dug through her purse, searching for her cell phone as she walked to her car. Hope started the engine and vamped up the air conditioning, dialing Tracy’s number.

  Nervous excitement saturated Tracy’s voice when she answered, “How’d it go?”

  “Great! But I just went by your office and you’re not there. Are you coming back or do you want to schedule the meetings over the phone?”

  A giggle rang through the speakers of her car. “I lied. We don’t have any meetings to schedule.”

  She felt a tug of confusion pinch at the bridge of her nose, yet Hope couldn’t help but to chuckle along with Tracy. Her laughter was contagious. “I don’t get it. What’s so funny?”

  “Antonio told me to do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “He told me to pop into your meeting and say that whole bit about having three buyers.”

  “That little sneak!” Hope shook her head in disbelief. Another round of girlish giggles filled her car. “Oh, my gosh . . . and you! I can’t believe you pulled that off without laughing!”

  “Me either!”

  “You’ll be happy to know that the deal is done. Three point eight million, thirty-thousand cases of wine, and I added at least one full time rep that will travel from region to region.”

  Tracy’s laughter was clipped short on a hard gasp. “Holy shit! You really are better than Antonio. That’s fantastic.”

  “Thanks.” Pride swelled in her chest and heated her cheeks. “Please don’t tell Antonio. I want to surprise him.”

  “No problem. Hey, we should have dinner tonight.”

  “How about tomorrow?” Hope had other plans for celebrating.

  “Sounds great.”

  ANTONIO WAS WAITI
NG ANXIOUSLY WHEN she strolled through the door. He leaned against the kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, with a glass of cabernet in his hand. “How’d it go?”

  “It went . . . okay.” She shrugged, her face twisted in defeat.

  His silvery grey eyes turned subdued giving a slow nod. Hope knew he was attempting to hide his shocked disappointment. She held it together, putting one foot in front of the other, trudging toward him, and leaning forward to kiss his chin.

  “I did my best, but Samantha’s tough.” Her gaze lingered over the freshly shaven skin on his throat. The clean scent of his body wash mixed with the wine on his breath . . . her ultimate drug. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

  Placing another quick peck to his cheek, she averted her face as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t detect her sheepish grin. Hope plodded out of the kitchen, rushing to slip out of her dress as soon as she rounded the corner.

  She called back to him, spouting off the number as she scurried to the bedroom, “Three-million-eight-hundred-thousand.”

  She heard him say something in Italian, but couldn’t make it out over her own laughter. Hope crawled over the bed on hands and knees, trying to make it to her side, but he caught her by the hips, nailing her bottom with a gentle nibble.

  “You had me going for a minute.” His nibbles turned to a bite, then another, drawing a lusty gasp from her lungs. Bending further, he blessed her with a gorgeous, white smile. “I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you.”

  Hope pushed backward, rocking side to side against his hips. The late day summer sun pushed through the shutters, breaking across the white comforter in fragments. She felt the hardness of his chest resting on her back, the heat of his moist breath at her ear. “Do you want to celebrate?”

  “Yes,” she moaned softly, turning her head until she found his mouth. Hope was wet and ready, nothing else would ever feel better than him inside her.

  Breaking the kiss, he kneeled behind her, peeling off his shirt and discarding his pants to the floor. The palms of his hands traced her curves, smoothing over her back, stroking and caressing. With a pinch of his fingers, her bra slipped from her shoulders and dropped to the bed beneath her. She rolled her hips against the hard length of him, whimpering when he pulled away.

  “Wait, I wanted—”

  “Oh, I know exactly what you want, bella, and I’m going to give it to you, nice and slow, fast and rough, you get whatever you want.”

  Legs pressed between hers, he brushed the hair from her shoulder, his lips dragged along her spine, every hair on her body stood in fine points. Hooking both thumbs around the side of her panties, he eased them down her thighs, positioning the heavy shaft at her soft pleated flesh. Nudging gently, he eased into the glazed wetness, releasing a long drawn out hiss of breath.

  Hope needed more, so much more, but he refrained. His hand came to her head, twining his long fingers into the mass. In one fluid movement, he sat back on his haunches, tugging on her hair so she followed, thrusting into her. Hope cried out in pleasure. Oh, yes. Umm, feels so good. His free hand came between her legs, rubbing and turning tight circles over her sex.

  Antonio tugged on her hair, tipping her head to his shoulder, his fingers worked down below stroking, his rhythm perfection. Anticipation mounted as pleasure rushes surged through her center.

  So close. Don’t stop.

  He thrust upward again and again, using the grip of her hair as leverage. The new position pushed the boundaries of sensually erotic. Hope grasped her breasts, pushing her over the top, peaking as she cried out his name. Releasing her hair, his arm slid beneath the full weight of her breasts, his fingers continued to turn in infinite revolutions, drawing out another orgasm as he buried himself inside, coming in violent pulses.

  Antonio eased forward, bringing her to her hands and knees. Still gasping for air, he carefully rolled her on her side and lowered beside her. Spent and sedated, they lay there, coiled together, smiling in wonder.

  Morning crested over the Tuscan hillside as Hope lay wide awake in bed. She’d been up for over an hour waiting for Antonio’s alarm to go off. Overwhelmed with excitement, she couldn’t wait one more minute. She quietly slipped out of bed and retrieved a manila envelope from the bedside table, tucking it under her pillow.

  Antonio stirred feeling the mattress compress when she sat beside him. He peeled open his eyes. “Umm, morning, bella.”

  “Morning,” she whispered, dragging her fingers through his messy hair.

  He brought a hand to her face, languidly tracing her jaw, before tucking it behind his head. “You look awfully happy this morning.”

  She nodded quickly, using the corner of the sheet to blot the corner of her eye. Concern gathered in the billowy greys, reading every detail of the sentiment etched across her face. He started to lift from his pillow, but she pushed him flat and climbed over him. Gripping her hips, he assisted with the awkward maneuver as she straddled his hips.

  Hope stretched, her belly resting on his, retrieving the large envelope from beneath her pillow.

  “I’m ready.” Tears of joy rolled down her hot cheeks.

  The look on his face was nothing short of pure love. He’d been dying to open the envelope since they left the doctor’s office two visits ago. “Are you certain?”

  “I’m sure. I want to know what our baby is going to be.”

  Her fingers trembled, tearing at the sealed flap. Hope retrieved several black and white images, frantically turning and twisting the thin paper, trying to make sense of body parts.

  Looking beyond the images, she saw a huge grin plastered to his face. His eyes were bloodshot and wetness spilled freely from his lashes. “Would you like me to translate?”

  “Yes!”

  Antonio feathered his index finger over the words written in Italian.

  No boy parts here.

  It’s a girl.

  Three years later

  HOPE LAY IN BED, SOUND asleep. A faint cry and hushed voices woke her from a short nap. She was tired and exhausted and happier than she ever thought humanly possible. As she rolled to the center of the bed, her wedding ring shimmered in the afternoon sunlight pushing through the open window, painting a lazy smile to her lips.

  They’d gotten married two weeks before the baby was born and recently celebrated their third anniversary. The intimate ceremony had been held at the winery, with Tracy and Vincent acting as their matron of honor and best man.

  Subtle movement in the open doorway captured her attention. Riley Faith’s long golden locks and round hazel eyes came into view as she peered around the corner. A bright smile lit up her face. “Momma!”

  “Shh shh shh, don’t wake her up,” Antonio whispered, bending to slip his free hand around her small shoulder.

  Riley Faith cupped her fingers around the side of her mouth, whispering out the side of her hand. “She already waked up.”

  Antonio strode through the door, wearing his most comfortable jeans and a three-day scruff, his dark, collar-length hair curled at the nape. He looked handsome and ridiculously sexy, cradling a fussy baby to his bare chest.

  Antonio flashed her a rueful grin as they approached the bed. “I wanted to let you sleep longer, but he’s hungry.”

  Hope propped several pillows behind her back and tucked the covers under her arms, stretching out to receive their brand new baby. Antonio pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, resting the baby in her arms.

  Riley Faith climbed up on the bed with her favorite handmade doll and baby bottle. She inched closer on her knees, snuggling up to Hope’s side to get a better look over her shoulder. The baby stretched a hand to the sky with a shiver, his bottom lip protruded as he started to cry.

  “Hurry, Momma, he’s hungry.”

  Hope adjusted the sheet so her breast was partially exposed and turned the baby’s small cherub face toward her chest. He rooted and cried, struggling momentarily to latch onto her nipple.

  Riley Faith’s eyes p
ulled wide, filled with a mix of alarm and curiosity. “What you doing?”

  “Feeding your baby brother,” Hope murmured, giving her daughter a soft smile.

  “With your boobie?” Their daughter’s nose wrinkled in disgust and confusion.

  Antonio’s laughter caught in his chest. “She takes after you.”

  “It’s called nursing. This is how some mommies feed their babies.” Hope eased her index finger into the baby’s fisted palm. His wet lashes were dark and silky, his wild head of black hair identical to his daddy’s.

  Riley Faith batted her lashes, leaning even further over Hope’s shoulder to inspect the feeding. The small fortune cookie charm dangled from her child-size silver bracelet. “Did I nurse on you boobies too?”

  “Umm hmm.” Hope brushed a sweet kiss to her daughter’s nose.

  After a few minutes, Riley Faith smiled in awe, fascinated and impressed that the wailing had stopped. She climbed under the blankets, tucking the sheet under her arms, mimicking Hope. Her little hand stroked her doll’s blond hair made from strands of yellow yarn.

  “Shh.” With wide eyes, Riley Faith looked around the room inquisitively. “Did you guys hear dat?”

  “Here what, sweetie?” Antonio asked.

  “My baby’s crying.” She made a fake cry sound. “She must be hungry too.” The little girl lifted up the corner of her pink shirt and held her baby to her chest.

  Amused but not terribly surprised, Hope and Antonio turned toward each other, shaking their heads. A light chuckle strummed through the bedroom.

  “Oh, boy. This is gonna be fun.”

  “Daddy, we can’t name him, Oh Boy. That would be silly.”

  He bit back a grin, sitting at the foot of the bed. Baby names had been the hot dinner topic for months. Hope wanted to keep the Giovanni legacy and name the baby after Antonio’s father, but Antonio had mixed feelings. Though his father wasn’t perfect by any means, after centuries of farming the land, he was the first winemaker of the family to lead the dream and begin a legendary path for the vineyard.