Decadent

by Alexx Andria

  Alessandra pulled away, her scowl apparent in the moonlight. “You’re wrong. People are not replaceable and you are a bigger fool than I realized if you truly believe that. Do you think for a moment I wouldn’t give anything to have my brother back? To have him by my side as a team in this business? I would do it in a heartbeat. Wealth can be rebuilt. People cannot.”

  I realized my error and tried to make amends. “You’re right. I spoke too quickly. That was in poor form. I would never try to imply that someone you loved could be replaced. I was speaking more to the workforce, not family connections. As much as I’m annoyed by both of my brothers, I love them and wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to either of them.”

  I thought I’d done a pretty good job of patching my gaffe but her scowl had melted into troubled silence. I reached for her but she stiffened and pulled away. “Sometimes the words that drop from our mouths without thought are our true thoughts and feelings without the mask of polite expectation,” she said.

  I sat up, my frown matching hers. “That’s bullshit. Sometimes we say things without realizing how insensitive it might sound but realize after the fact that we should’ve clarified.”

  But she shook her head. “Dante, you’re wrong. You’ve spent your life playing a part. How can you possibly know your own heart? You value nothing. You’ve been taught to reject anything that doesn’t have a direct dollar value. What about love? How do you put a price tag on that?”

  I should’ve tempered my tongue but the odd chord between us had set me on a reckless path. I’d never felt defensive about my views because I’d never cared about the opinions of others; but for some reason I cared about Alessandra’s opinion of me. Her obvious disappointment sharpened my voice.

  “Love is a social construct based on a chemical reaction in the brain,” I answered. “I’d say, enjoy it while it lasts but don’t do anything that will put your livelihood in jeopardy. Case in point, I tried to get my brothers to have their wives sign a prenup but they were too blinded by their feelings to press it. Now, when that chemical reaction fades and, heaven forbid, their wives decide they don’t want to be married to them anymore, it’s going to cost our family a shit-ton of money to be free of them.”

  “What makes you think their wives will tire of them?” she asked, shaking her head. “Love isn’t so fickle.”

  “The current divorce rate would disagree,” I returned smoothly. “Nothing is forever but death and taxes.”

  “You have a cold heart, Dante Donato,” she said.

  There was something about the quiet way she delivered her assessment that cut me to the core. It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of being cold but hearing it from her lips was something I wasn’t prepared for.

  I stiffened as I put distance between us. “I like to think of it as practical.”

  “Doesn’t change what it is. If you continue on this path, you will end up bitter, angry and alone.”

  How many times had angry lovers thrown that very sentiment in my face? Too many, but this time I couldn’t seem to laugh it off. “I’m flattered that you care about my future self.”

  “You make jokes but I’m not laughing. You are incredible in bed but you are woefully inadequate when it comes to being a human.”

  I sat up, freshly irritated. “Not many people would dare to say that to me.”

  “Why not? Because you are so important? Because you are wealthy? Because they are afraid of bruising your delicate ego?”

  Probably all of the above. “Because I don’t tolerate people disrespecting me,” I answered.

  “It’s not disrespect, it’s honesty. Maybe that’s part of your problem. People are afraid to tell you what you need to hear. Surrounding yourself with people who will simply nod and tell you what you want to hear won’t do you any good. We all need someone who is willing to tell us the straight truth if we hope to evolve.”

  Evolve? Once I’d dated a yoga instructor who charged crystals by the light of the full moon. She’d said something similar as I’d walked out the door, leaving behind her New Age bullshit and losing her number. “You’ve got your opinion and I’ve got mine. I told you I like who I am. My desire for improvement isn’t as needy as yours.”

  “I am not needy.” Her laughter at my veiled criticism made me feel small and petty. “I feel sorry for you. You’re dooming yourself to a lifetime of disappointment. You can’t pour from an empty cup. You seek validation in the all the wrong places.”

  “Says you,” I muttered. When did this turn into a Dr. Phil session? I tossed the blankets aside and strode to the bathroom, needing a little space. Couldn’t we go back to the wild monkey sex and forget all this psychobabble bullshit?

  Things had been going so well. They say that when words make you defensive, they’ve struck a chord, possibly a little too closely to the truth. If that were true, Alessandra must’ve hit the bull’s-eye because I was humming with irritation. I wanted to lash out, to prove her wrong, to show her that she was off base with her assessment, but I also didn’t want to ruin what progress I’d made by popping off in anger. I needed to stay close to her if I wanted my hands on the winery.

  Even as I thought it, I knew that wasn’t entirely true. Something was shifting between us, and it confused the hell out of me. I didn’t want to admit that I wanted to keep close for other reasons. Ones I wasn’t willing to explore too deeply.

  If I wanted Alessandra to trust me, I had to swallow whatever ire I was choking on and make amends. Washing my hands, I made a mental note to calm down and do exactly that, but as I exited the bathroom, my mouth full of pretty words meant to placate, I found the room empty.

  Alessandra had left.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Alessandra

  I WASN’T GOING to stay with Dante after that ridiculous speech. I was surrounded by machismo in my line of work but hearing Dante cover his feelings with that same useless veneer was more than I could stomach.

  I wanted him to be better than that, although I didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if I was hoping for some kind of future together but I couldn’t explain how deep my disappointment went at his reveal.

  My eyes stung with grit. I hadn’t slept well after returning to my apartment. I blamed Dante. What was done was done, though. Time to march forward. I made it to the office early, thankfully before Como, and started work. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to Como’s jealous sniping at the moment.

  But as luck would have it, Como called in sick, and I was grateful for the silence in the office. If I was perturbed that Dante hadn’t tried to call, it was a mild distraction and nothing more.

  It was nearing lunch when my nonno popped his head in. I smiled in welcome surprise at my grandfather’s unexpected appearance. I rose and pressed a kiss on each cheek. “What mischief are you up to?” I asked, my heart filled with love for the old man. “Does Martina know you’re out and about?” My grandfather’s nurse kept a sharp eye on him, though they doted on each other.

  “No, and I don’t need you squealing on me either,” he answered, his chin proud even as he leaned on his ornate cane. “I came to enjoy lunch with my favorite girl and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, smiling. “And where are we going for lunch?”

  “My favorite place, of course.”

  My heart swelled with pride and my eyes threatened to fill. I knew exactly where he wanted to go and he’d likely already made all the arrangements. My nonno might not be the spry young man he used to be but he still managed to get things done.

  I linked my arm happily through his and we made our way out of the manor and onto the south side of the vineyard, where Nonno had had a gazebo built in Enzo’s honor. As we approached the gazebo, I saw that a full luncheon spread had been prepared and set out for our arrival. I nudged his arm, saying in a conspiratorial tone, “Methinks you have
Martina wrapped around your finger. There’s no way you managed all this on your own.”

  “I admit to nothing,” Nonno said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. He waited for me to take my seat before taking his own and I wished my nonna was still here to enjoy luncheons like this with the man of her dreams. Their love story was something that always made me privately sigh, even if I didn’t believe it could happen in today’s world. Once settled, Nonno snapped his linen napkin across his lap and went straight to business. “The tasting is soon. Are you prepared, patatina?”

  A small smile warmed my lips at the endearment. “Yes, Nonno. I am as prepared as I can possibly be without knowing the future. The private tasting went very well. I believe wholeheartedly that Uva Persa will have a huge impact on the future of Baroni wine but only God knows for sure.”

  Pleased, Nonno nodded and poured a crisp white into our glasses. He raised his glass with an affirmative jerk of his chin. “Then so be it. It is out of our hands. It will be what it will be.”

  I blinked back sudden moisture. My nonno’s faith in me was humbling and terrifying. What if I failed? What if I let everyone down and this venture turned out to be foolhardy and ultimately sent our legacy tumbling into ruin? I swallowed the lump of fear congealing in my throat and forced myself to smile against the urge to cry. “I love this spot. It was always Enzo’s favorite.”

  “Yes, the sun hits the vines perfectly. Enzo always had a love for the vines but perhaps not the head for business, unlike you, patatina.”

  I met my grandfather’s gaze, chuckling ruefully at how terribly transparent I must be if he saw through me so easily. “Is it so obvious that I’m afraid of failing us all?”

  Nonno shrugged as if failure wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a person. “You cannot win if you don’t first try, and to try you have to face the reality that you might fail.” Such simple wisdom was my grandfather’s hallmark, something my father had never truly grasped. He sighed as he poured the olive oil and grabbed some bread to sop it up. “Enzo may have had the vision but he never would’ve gone against your father to plant his dream, not like you. You are bold and aggressive, which is exactly what the blood needs to survive in the new environment. It is not the same as when I was a young man, nor when your father was young. This is not a bad thing. Change is necessary to evolve, and frankly, our industry has been suffering from rot for a long time. Not enough nutrients in the soil to grow quality grapes. The wine suffers. You know this.”

  I did know this—I knew it by heart as it was an argument I’d held regularly with my father when I’d been trying to convince him to partner with me on the new varietals. “What made you decide to take a chance on me, Nonno?”

  My grandfather smiled as if I were blind. “Why wouldn’t I? I am an old man. What chance do I have to make a difference now aside from helping those who might have the opportunity to effect real change? You are that change, the new guard. I am honored and privileged to be some small part of this change. Besides, what am I to do with money? I cannot take it with me and my needs are met so I might as well do some good with it while I can.”

  Why couldn’t my father have been as wise? I smiled in return with gratitude as my gaze drifted out toward the countless rows of the recently harvested vines. Even as my grandfather’s confidence buoyed me, a small snippet of doubt wormed its way into my head. “Nonno, why am I so scared? I know in my heart this is the right decision, but I still worry that I’m being foolish and my ego is in charge, which is never a good navigator.”

  “Bah, don’t underestimate the importance of a healthy ego. You have to believe in yourself in order to take a big risk. My girl, let me ease your fears. I love you. I love you with all the breath in my body but if I hadn’t believed in your proposal, I wouldn’t have invested with you. It’s that simple. Love is love, but business is still business.”

  I laughed. Once again, simple logic at its best. “True.” But it made me think of Dante and how business was all he had, which felt incredibly sad. “Nonno...an American wanted to buy Baroni. I turned him down.” Nonno wasn’t impressed, which I knew he wouldn’t be—as I told Dante many had offered and we always sent them away. But there was more to Dante and I needed to talk to someone about my feelings. “His name is Dante Donato. Does that ring a bell? He says his family built our manor in the thirteenth century. I have done the research and his boast is accurate. He offered an obscene amount of money for our winery. Of course, the money means nothing but it seemed curious timing given our new venture. Do you think he knew about Uva Persa?”

  “Donato...” Nonno rolled the name on his tongue and his gaze narrowed in thought. “Yes, actually, the name is familiar. I knew a Donato long ago. Brash, boastful and with the worst taste in wine. You were right to send him packing.”

  I laughed. “Yes, well, Dante seems to have improved on his predecessor but he is still boastful.” And sexy, and one helluva a kisser. I blushed privately, drawing a deep breath, but my nonno’s eyes were sharp. I shook my head, stopping him before he could start. “I am not interested in Dante. Intrigued, yes, but nothing more than that. He entertains me.”

  “Ah, patatina, remember love happens when we least expect it.”

  I barked a short laugh. “Nonno, hush your mouth. The last thing I want to worry about is some man falling in love with me. I have enough on my plate.”

  He chuckled. “Have I ever told you the story of how I met your nonna?”

  “Many times.” My favorite story ever, but I indulged him. “But you can tell me again if you like.”

  “Well, she was the most amazing creature I’d ever seen. A radiant force of nature. Her dark auburn hair had flecks of amber left behind by the sun’s kisses. Her dark eyes were like large pools of black glass and that mouth, well, it was magnificent.”

  I didn’t want to think of my beloved grandparents getting dirty together, but appetites didn’t spring from the ground. They had to come from somewhere and I could only imagine how my spirited Italian grandparents had been in their youth.

  “Of course you fell in love at first sight. Nonna was jaw-droppingly beautiful.”

  “Yes, yes, but it was not mutual,” Nonno shared, shocking me. This was not part of the story I knew. He shook his head. “No, she had no interest in me. None. In fact, she thought I was a selfish prick.”

  I was shocked. “No,” I protested, unable to believe this version of my family’s love story. “Nonna always talked about how she loved you.”

  “Yes, yes, later. She came to love me but I had to win her love. Of course, I did, but it was smart to woo her. I’d never had to put so much effort into winning a woman. It was good for me. Nothing easily won is worth having, that was the lesson I learned very early with your nonna. And boy, was she ever worth having.” A wistful pause followed before he added with a soft smile filled with yearning. “I miss her every day.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “Me, too. No one can make linguine like Nonna could, not even Como’s mama and she’s pretty good.”

  Nonno smiled with pride, knowing this was true. “Every single day I wonder why God took her from me. But it is not for me to question, eh?”

  My grandparents were good, strong Roman Catholics. Nothing shook their faith, not even tragedy. I wish I had their conviction, their belief in something bigger than themselves. A part of me was still angry with God for taking Enzo so young even though I knew I shouldn’t admit to something so blasphemous.

  “I don’t know, Nonno,” I admitted. “I suppose Nonna would remind us that God works in mysterious ways.”

  He nodded, agreeing. “That she would. She was a good woman. Strong in her faith. Sometimes I am weak.” He drew a deep breath, nodding in memory. “My point, beautiful Alessandra, is that sometimes love comes when we think we aren’t ready, but God always knows when the time is right.”

  I wasn’t religious—well, of course,
I was raised Catholic but I wasn’t a good Catholic by any means. Nonna, God rest her soul, would’ve been horrified by how few times I’d actually attended Mass since her passing. I simply didn’t have time, but I could only hope God would understand and forgive my absence. “Well, I definitely don’t have the time nor the interest in love, even though I do adore yours and Nonna’s love story and I never tire of hearing it.” Even with the shocking new details, I thought privately. “Besides, I am far too busy with the launch of Uva Persa to even fathom adding another complication. The idea even gives me gray hair.”

  “You like him. I can see it in your eyes, patatina.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “No, you see someone who is hungry,” I replied, reaching for the bread and the fresh garlic. I winked as I scooped the garlic onto the bread, before sopping it with olive oil, saying, “Love, hunger—the same.” Then, with great flourish, I enjoyed my mouthful.

  Nonno took my cue and dropped the subject and we finished our luncheon. Nothing was more precious to me than spending time with my nonno. I could always count on him for snippets of wisdom or entertaining anecdotes; but even as I adored time with my grandfather, the contrast between my relationship with my father was a bittersweet one. Enzo’s death had been so traumatic for our family, it fractured our framework so terribly that it was impossible to return to our original state. I feared I’d always wonder if my father loved Enzo more than me.

  “Nonno, what if...” The words were stuck in my throat. Fear of the answer stopped me. I looked to my grandfather, my eyes welling against my control. He reached over and placed his gnarly, soft hand on mine, squeezing gently. I nodded, swallowing.

  Some things weren’t meant to be said. The weight of the question and the potential answer were equally crushing.

  “Thank you for lunch, Nonno,” I said, smiling against the flutter in my stomach.