by Jan Moran
“Feel free to have more wine while you wait.” Was it just him, or was she now breathless with anticipation? The nervous, stiff woman who’d first caught his attention had disappeared, and he couldn’t be sure if it was because of the wine or something else entirely. With a soft smile, she breezed past him, leaving a cloud of rose and lemongrass in her wake.
Luca couldn’t have been paid to drink another drop at that point. He was just buzzed enough to escape the bevy of emotions that had been circling his consciousness since early morning without being too far gone to enjoy the company of Alessia, who was to return to his side. Though he knew she was far too skittish for him to take back to his hotel tonight, once he’d finished his business, he’d set to seducing her slowly, properly.
At least that was one thing he could thank his old man for.
Alessia aside, after all she had told him about the winery, perhaps Costa and Ferrari wasn’t a business opportunity to refuse, even with all his emotional baggage. The insight Alessia had given him into the winery meant that, when he refused Antonio’s offer, it wouldn’t just be due to interest in her. He still had to contend with his own curiosity and the legacy of a father he’d never really known.
His mother would, of course, be furious. He’d barely managed to tell her about his father’s will before she started cursing the deceased man, saying they didn’t need anything of his to make their way in the world. While she was absolutely right, the alcohol flowing through Luca’s veins relaxed him enough to allow him to wonder whether his mother’s blind hatred of her deceased ex-husband came from his abandonment of his family or jealousy over his success.
These and other ideas swirled around his head as he picked at the last of the crackers and prosciutto. Though he’d imagined that Alessia might take an eternity, he was surprised to find it took her only thirty minutes. When she returned to his side, she had traded her polished black heels for flats, and her wavy, gleaming dark hair was tumbled over her shoulders almost to her waist.
Easy, Luca. The order sprang into his mind as he warred with the side of him that demanded he grab her and kiss her absolutely senseless.
“Hi.” Her smile was reserved, almost apologetic. “I’m about to head home.”
“Of course.” He fairly leapt from his chair to join her, falling into step beside her as she made her way out into the parking lot. Her car was a convertible navy BMW near the edge of the vineyard, and in his opinion, the few minutes it took to walk there were entirely too short.
The evening air was still warm, almost as warm as the brush of Alessia’s skin against his own.
She turned to face him, her expression expectant. “Well, this is me.”
The sweet smell of flowers and grapes tinged the air as music from the second dining room floated over them, low and heady. Above them, far beyond the reach of the city lights, stars twinkled brightly, pinpricks of light in the dark sky. Luca withdrew a small slip of paper he’d written his number on from his pocket, extending it to her. When her slender fingers took it from him, he bit back a groan.
He wanted her. Desperately.
“Thank you.” Her murmur was soft, almost sensual. “I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Most definitely.” He smiled, unable to tear his gaze from the picture she made, silhouetted beneath the stars. When she didn’t move to open her car door, he took it as a sign to move towards her, lowering his head so his mouth was a hair’s breadth from hers. Alessia exhaled a shuddering breath before he pressed his lips against hers, tasting her as he’d longed to do all night.
Her flavor was wine, the sweet mellowness of camembert, and something more – something rich, intoxicating, and tenuous that immediately spoke to him, begging him to take her as his own. Luca’s tongue slid against the line of her lips, urging her to part for him, and she did. With a low moan, Alessia arched against the hard line of his body, and he could sense the repressed passion in her. Their tongues dueled for dominance as he pressed her against the side of her car, indulging in the softness of her body against his.
If he wanted to, he could take her now, arouse her until all inhibitions fell and protests ceased, and leave her drunk with the feeling of him inside her. But this was not the time or the place. When he had Alessia, it would be slowly and leisurely in the privacy of his hotel room, far away from the prying eyes of the winery staff.
And so, reluctantly, he parted from her, leaving her eyes half-lidded, her breath coming in short, needy gasps. Reaching down, he caressed her cheek gently before pressing his lips briefly to her forehead. “Goodnight, Alessia. Call me.”
With that, he turned to leave her there, forcing his legs to carry him away from Alessia instead of back to her side. By the time he was safely back in his car, his head was swimming with the memory of her taste.
Tomorrow.
He would deal with Antonio Costa and his proposal tomorrow. And then he would begin his conquest of the lovely Alessia.
Chapter 5
She was on cloud nine.
As much as Alessia loved her job, she wasn’t a morning person. The daily blast of the alarm was more likely to inspire the desire to throw the clock at the wall than to heed its call, which was contrary to her normally easy-going disposition.
This morning was different. She’d lain awake the entire night, tossing and turning as she imagined her mystery man’s hands roaming her body, finding and exploiting places she herself had never explored.
She didn’t even know his last name, but the memory of him was enough to get her up and out of bed without complaint. Humming a random, nonsensical tune, Alessia stepped into the shower, anticipating the start of her day. As always, she had a full schedule. First, she was meeting with the graphic designer to redesign their label at nine. Then she had penciled in time to speak with her father on what he called an “urgent” matter.
Though Alessia absolutely adored him, it seemed that every matter these days was of grave importance to Antonio Costa. She wouldn’t mind, but he seemed less interested in the winery than he was in her personal life. Bottle yields drew his attention less than her lack of suitors and her disillusionment with the idea of marriage. Her father had tried to set her up on so many dates that it was almost embarrassing. So if a meeting wasn’t taking place in a business setting, Alessia usually tried to avoid it.
Had her mother still been alive, she would have stopped the Costa patriarch’s meddling in its tracks. Elenora Costa had cultivated in her daughter a sense of independence that she herself had lacked. She’d always encouraged Alessia to be her own person, insisting that men didn’t make women. Alessia had taken those words to heart. She was stable financially and emotionally, without a single man to intrude on that solid foundation.
Until now.
Alessia smiled at the memory of the customer she’d met the previous night; she liked the idea of him doing a little more intruding.
Of course, she’d been nervous when she met him, but what woman wouldn’t be? He was at least six feet two inches of solid, muscular good looks: intense topaz eyes, dark hair cropped short, and a slow smile that complemented his strong jaw structure and broad shoulders.
Any woman alive would fall all over herself to get to him on a crowded street. The way his tailored navy suit hugged a form taut with strength was mouthwatering. Initially, it had taken all Alessia’s fortitude to even speak with him.
But speaking with customers was her job; it was the mask she hid behind when her anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. She knew the winery like the back of her hand, and what better gift than to share that knowledge with others?
“Luca,” she whispered in a breathy voice. He’d certainly appreciated it, soaking up every word like a sponge, proving that the interest in wine he’d professed hadn’t been merely a ruse to get her attention. It had been nice, she thought as she washed her hair, to speak to someone who was just as enthusiastic about wine as she was; never mind that Luca had seemed a little skeptical about the winery itself.
He wouldn’t be the first. Many of the winery’s visitors were surprised by the modesty of the staff and their welcoming attitude. That Costa and Ferrari remained humble and sincere while being such a large brand was one of their trademarks, one she, of course, was glad to perpetuate.
But it wasn’t only the winery’s charm that had intrigued her stranger; it was Alessia herself. She’d been shocked when he first expressed an interest in her. While she knew she wasn’t bad looking, to have attracted the attention of such a polished, decadent man was a feat she would have thought completely beyond her abilities.
She’d battled with her attraction to him all night, until both the wine and Luca’s innate politeness had brought down her barriers. He hadn’t attempted to take her home, and he hadn’t treated her like a cheap whore. Instead, he’d merely walked her to her car and left her with a parting kiss that had rocked her to her toes and invaded her fantasies.
His embrace had been heated and firm, the strength of his arms enough to make her weak-kneed as his mouth plundered her own. Alessia didn’t think she’d ever been kissed quite like that, and though she’d never considered herself an overtly sexual being, a hunger within her begged for more.
Tonight.
She’d call him tonight.
Alessia had yet to even glance at the slip of paper he’d passed her before they parted, for fear the previous night was just a dream. She had barely glanced at the slip of paper and slipped it into the safety of her pocket before she slipped into the shower, and that alone was enough to make her float through her morning routine.
After she was finished with her work for the day, she’d contact him. And once she learned more than just his first name, they could move on to other pleasantries. Dinner, more kissing perhaps, and then… Alessia shuddered as she imagined how easily his insistent hands and clever mouth might turn her to putty.
Then she would simply have to wait for him to make the next move.
* * *
The meeting with the graphic designer went off without a hitch. They had spoken briefly the previous week about what her father expected from the new logo, and several choices had already been drawn up. From there, it was short work to narrow down the few images to the one Alessia knew her father would like. After the forty-minute-long discussion, Alessia popped into the hotel’s dining room to pour herself a large coffee before preparing to meet her father.
Antonio Costa could more often than not be found in what most of the staff called “the throne room.” It was a large conference room on the second level of the production plant that had been converted into his office. Plush carpets, dark wood furniture, and hundreds of volumes of books on grapes and wines from around the world filled the room. It was there that Alessia had grown up, bouncing on her father’s knee as he balanced ledgers or sipped at new wines.
Now it was most often the place where she endured embarrassment as her father grilled her about why she hadn’t brought a young man home for his approval or where she suffered through his inquisition regarding her long work hours. Alessia paused briefly outside the door and took a deep breath before entering his domain. As usual, she found him seated at his enormous desk, puffing on a cigar with a small glass of cognac at his side despite the fact that it was barely nine in the morning.
Antonio Costa was Italian to his very roots. His family had emigrated from Venice when he was just seven years old and had struggled to make lives for themselves in New York City. Luckily, young Antonio had always had a head for figures and a passion for beer and wine. Through hard work and despite a few mishaps, he’d managed to put together a successful craft brewery that still thrived in New York. After the Vietnam War, however, Antonio had been lost in disenchantment with the city and fled on a three-thousand-mile search for absolution.
The trip had eventually spawned the Costa and Ferrari Winery and Vineyard—a success whose dominance seemed to be enough to keep him going. Antonio had smoked and drank from an early age, and every time the wiry man made a trip to the doctor, Alessia was terrified that they’d find something life-threatening. Her father, however, seemed to be defying the odds, and at seventy-four, he was convinced that the tobacco and alcohol were helping his robust health.
He towered over his petite daughter, thumping around the property on a cane that kicked up dust wherever he went. A pinched face that could come off as severe was crowned with a full head of gray hair that matched his well-trimmed beard and moustache. He wore spectacles that he swore helped him see into other’s souls, leaving his daughter giggling behind his back. Her father was certainly a character, and Alessia could only hope that he’d summoned her this morning for business, rather than insight into her love life.
“Alessia, sweetheart. Come here.”
She did as he bid, crossing the wide expanse of his office to stand before his desk, where she watched a ring of cigar smoke float up to encircle his head. The smell was one she was familiar with—tobacco and vanilla. She relished it, as it reminded her of her childhood at her father’s knee and her mother’s soft, reassuring voice as she tore through the vineyard, barefoot, ready for her next make-believe adventure.
“How are you, honey?”
He never skipped the pleasantries. Her father had always cared for her well-being, even if his ministrations had been more invasive than usual lately.
“Fine, Dad. You said you needed to see me? That it was urgent?”
Antonio looked his daughter over from head to foot in a long, searching glance that made her shift uneasily before him.
While she was used to her father’s endless questions about the state of her life, this was something new to her, this penetrating, speculative gaze. “Dad… what’s going on?”
Antonio emitted a long-suffering sigh before puffing on his cigar, a serious look on his face. “There’s something important we need to talk about. And I don’t want you to be upset that I’ve kept it from you this long.”
Immediately, Alessia stiffened. Kept it from her? Kept what from her? She eyed her father warily, unsure whether or not she wanted to know exactly what was going on. The last time her father had “surprised” her, it had been with a blind date, which she’d spent the entire length of lamenting having a father who knew nothing at all about her type.
The last man he’d fixed her up with had been an investment banker who’d been as attractive as he was full of himself and completely shameless when it came to trying to get her into his bed. Alessia had nipped his presumptions in the bud as quickly as she could, and she’d been wary of her father keeping things from her ever since.
She didn’t like secrets.
“Just tell me what it is, please. I’ve got a very busy day today.” It was no lie. For the rest of the afternoon, she was supposed to be personally leading a tour group for one of their more affluent patrons.
Her father’s eyes took on a gleam that might very well have been apprehension as he looked down at her, and Alessia frowned with worry. This didn’t seem like another blind date. If it were, she suspected her father would look much more triumphant. If anything, he looked as nervous as she felt.
“Honey, you know Bruno died several weeks ago.”
It was the most obvious statement her father had ever made to her. Of course she knew! There had been two memorial services on the grounds and the entire winery had shut down for three days to mourn its co-founder.
She fondly remembered Bruno’s unique brand of kindness, his portly figure striding around the grounds as he sampled grapes and expounded upon the wonders of their product to any tourist group he ran across. Her father had always been, in many ways, like herself, preferring work to social interactions. For this reason, Alessia liked to think of him as a kindred spirit. Though she’d known little about Bruno’s family or life beyond the vineyard, she’d been sad when he died. His booming voice and easy smile had been fixtures of her childhood.
“Of course, Dad. And everyone misses him. What does that have to do with busines
s?”
She’d tried to make it clear to him that business conversations should take place during business hours and personal issues shouldn’t intervene. He, of course, hadn’t listened to her. It wasn’t as if Alessia was insensitive—just focused. She had a lot on her mind at any given point in time, and she wanted to be able to prioritize.
“Well, Alessia, before Bruno died, he wrote something very strange in his will.”
She arched a brow, still slightly lost.
“His half of the business didn’t automatically revert to the company. His will stated that, upon his death, his shares and the value of all his investments were to go to his son.” Alessia’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, she thought she might have misheard her father. But it was clear from the solemn look on his face that she wasn’t hard of hearing.
“His… his son.” She found herself struggling to say the words. As far as she knew, she’d never met any member of Bruno’s family. According to her father, he’d never had a terribly good relationship with them, having divorced shortly after arriving in California. Bruno had willed half of Costa and Ferrari to a stranger, someone who likely had no experience in the industry and would just want the shares for their profitability. Someone she and her father would have to deal with over even the most mundane decisions.
Alessia’s heart dropped into her stomach, her chest clenching as she contemplated the future that lay before them. Half of the business. It was no paltry amount. The value of the shares and investment in Bruno’s name was equal to those in her father’s, which meant his son would have an equal say when it came to how the winery was run.
Her expression must have spoken volumes about how she felt about Bruno’s decision, as her father instantly rushed to soften the blow. “Honey, it’s all right. I’ve gotten in contact with the son, and he seems very reasonable. I’ve offered to buy him out.”
Alessia’s heart leapt. “What did he say?”
Her father merely sighed. “He said he wanted to visit the winery to make an assessment before he made any decisions.”