Decadent

by Alexx Andria

  I shuddered, imagining his puppy dog eyes being similar to Como’s. “I’d rather not. He is a smart man, he’ll figure it out. Eventually.” I cast an inquisitive look Sophia’s way. “So what did you think of Alberico?”

  She shrugged but looked away to gaze at the passing scenery. “He was very polite. A gentleman, which is a nice change from the men I’ve met as of late.”

  “Yes, he is very polite,” I agreed, wondering if Alberico and Sophia were a far better match than he and I ever could be. Alberico had a genteel sense about him that matched Sophia’s refinement and while there might never be fireworks between those two, they would probably manage to make each other very happy. I would have to explore that possibility later.

  We let the conversation end, content to finish the ride in silence as we chewed on our own thoughts. By the time we arrived at the tasting, we were both ready to put the conversation behind us.

  No one knew at the tasting that the wine was mine. I had purposefully arranged for the bottles to arrive with fake labels and no one at the tasting room was aware that I was the owner of Uva Persa, nor did anyone know my voice as I had Como arrange the tasting.

  As far as anyone knew, I was simply another person looking to enjoy a new wine in a beautiful atmosphere.

  The tasting room was small, elegant and extremely stylish, as were the patrons. This wasn’t a tourist trap by any means, and while I recognized a few faces, smiled in greeting to a few, they were all content to stay within their own groups to enjoy the day.

  We accepted our glasses with plates of fragrant cheese and crackers and went outside to the terrace, which overlooked Florence. Old-world charm intersected with the hustle of modern life, and we toasted to our friendship.

  Although trying to appear nonchalant about her reaction to the wine, I was watching so keenly it hurt to breathe. I sipped the blend, my taste buds reacting to the bold wine, tasting the ancient tenerone grapes and smiling above the rim with pride. “Well?” I asked, trying for a natural smile. “What do you think?”

  Sophia’s brow dipped in thought as she considered her answer, taking the time to really savor the flavor and texture, just as a true connoisseur would. Her opinion meant a lot to me, not only as my best friend but as someone who knew wine. “This is incredible,” she finally said, yet seemed perplexed. “I can’t quite put my finger on the blend. I’ve never tasted anything like this. This is a Chianti?”

  I nodded, my excitement building. “It’s quite unique,” I agreed, pretending to ponder the blend. “Do you like it?”

  Sophia’s delight was like sunlight to my soul. “It’s delicious. I love it.” She swirled the liquid, inhaling the bouquet. “This might be my new favorite,” she said before twisting around to see if she could find an advertisement for the label. “What is it called?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it,” I lied.

  “Well, it’s fantastic. Mama would love this.”

  A weight fell from my shoulders and for the first time in a long time I felt I could breathe. It was true that Uva Persa could still fail, but somehow gaining Sophia’s unwitting approval was the reassurance I needed to push forward with renewed vigor.

  “Are you all right?” Sophia asked, her smile quizzical. “You have a funny look on your face.”

  I decided to come clean. “The wine is called Uva Persa,” I shared with a smile. “And it is a secret project of mine under the Castello di Baroni label, but for today I have a fake label on the bottle.”

  Sophia’s amazement made me giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush. Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe you never told me. Why is it a secret?”

  I carefully set down my glass. “Five years ago I planted a secret vineyard with my nonno with tenerone grapes to create a new blend using ancient varietals, and this—” I gestured to the glass “—is the fruit of that labor.”

  “It’s amazing,” Sophia said, the admiration in her eyes making me blush. “I am always in awe of how incredible you are, but today I am speechless. How did you convince your father to do this?”

  “I didn’t. My father doesn’t know. Only my grandfather and I invested. I put everything I had into this project, and using the Baroni label is going to either ruin us or send us straight into the future of winemaking. It’s really an all-or-nothing venture and I’m terrified.”

  But Sophia knew just what to say to ease my fears. “I used to worry that Enzo would live only in our memories. Not so. He is here in spirit beside you, guiding you. This is right. You were right to take this chance. I believe in you and your vision.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that validation, but the choking sensation as my throat closed was proof enough that I wasn’t as tough as I liked to pretend. Sophia wrapped me in a tight hug and whispered, “I am so proud of you and I know Enzo would be, too,” and I bawled openly.

  So much for a dignified outing.

  Oh well, it was worth it.

  “And now I need a refill,” Sophia announced, smiling with tears in her eyes as she went in search of the bottle, leaving me to wipe my face and collect myself. I watched her leave, my heart light except for the shadow of lingering fear that I still had one dragon to slay before I could fully celebrate.

  I had to find a way to break the news to my father before the launch, which was approaching faster than I was prepared for emotionally.

  Dante would say I am the boss, therefore I could make any decision I deemed appropriate for the business, but the Baroni family wasn’t like Dante’s.

  We knew people weren’t replaceable and hurting those we loved—even for decisions we deemed right—still left a mark.

  I could only hope my father saw the promise of a new dawn instead of the sadness of a sinking sunset with my decision.

  Sophia returned with a bottle and filled both our glasses to toast boldly, “To Uva Persa.”

  “To Uva Persa,” I murmured.

  Please don’t fail me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dante

  I HAD TO make amends with Alessandra. It wouldn’t serve my purpose to have her scowling whenever my face popped up, but chasing after a woman wasn’t my strong suit. Women usually chased me.

  If she were an ordinary woman, I’d send an obscene bouquet of flowers in an effusive display of wealth and seemingly considerate attention to win her over, but Alessandra would find that gauche and annoying. Jewelry wasn’t an option either. She had her own wealth, and she could buy her own trinkets.

  The key to Alessandra was to keep her guessing, keep her on her toes—whether through bone-melting orgasms or unusual escapades, such as the cooking course—but a little groveling wouldn’t be amiss.

  No woman could resist the temptation of hearing a man say those fateful words “I’m sorry” or alternatively “I was wrong,” so I’d go prepared to drop either of those bombs into the conversation.

  Assuming she didn’t kick me out of her office.

  Or that sulking office assistant of hers didn’t have me arrested for stepping foot on the property.

  It was easy to see that her assistant was head over heels in love with her, even if she couldn’t see it or tried to deny it. Lord help me if I was ever so stupid as to fall in love with a woman who wanted someone else.

  I showed up at the manor and bypassed the common area reserved for guests and customers to go straight to the office quarters, but not before taking a moment to appreciate the sturdy architecture of the manor. Seeing as my ancestors put this block of rock together and it’d held up for hundreds of years, I took a certain amount of pride in ownership, even if our contribution ended almost as long ago.

  Still counted.

  I rapped on the doorjamb, peeked inside the office and found Alessandra, head down, dressed with an elegant casual style that could’ve come straight from the
runway to this moment without losing a second in grace. God, she was beautiful. I must’ve lost myself for a moment but the moment was interrupted rudely by her assistant clearing his throat and glaring. “You seem to feel quite comfortable coming and going where you’ve not been invited,” he said.

  At that Alessandra glanced up and our gazes locked. I could tell she wanted to be angry—those twin spots of color flashing in her cheeks gave her away—but she wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire because it was unprofessional. “Can I help you?” she asked, ignoring her assistant’s jab. “I’m quite busy so if you don’t have anything of importance to share, I’ll kindly ask you to leave.”

  I caught her assistant’s silent triumph and I wanted to laugh. The game wasn’t over by a long shot. I always got what I wanted. Today, I wanted Alessandra to forgive me. “I missed you yesterday.”

  Alessandra’s glare turned frosty. “I have work to do.”

  “Walk with me,” I suggested, and her assistant muttered something in Italian that was probably very unflattering toward me. I pushed off the door frame and came in without an invitation. “Look, I’ll do this right in front of your guy but I’d rather have some privacy.”

  “And what exactly do you feel you need to do that requires privacy?” she asked.

  “Apologize,” I answered with as much humility as I could muster.

  Alessandra folded her arms across her chest with a small smile. “And what are you apologizing for? How you live your life is not for me to say. I could not care less how you conduct yourself.”

  “And here I thought we were going for honesty,” I chided.

  She shrugged. “I have no reason to lie. You mean nothing to me.”

  “Ouch. Well, I wasn’t expecting to run to Gretna Green for a quickie marriage or anything but I did believe we shared some good times. Times I’d like to continue while I’m here.”

  At that, her assistant made a sound of disgust as he got up and walked out. The knowing smile on my lips only served to compress hers to a fine line. She knew the problem with her assistant was one of her own making, but I wasn’t going to bust her too hard on that score. “You are a pain in the ass,” she said.

  “But that ass, though,” I said with a devilish grin that I knew she couldn’t resist. That Donato charm was something of legend. Now I understood why Nico had never shied away from turning it on. “Don’t try to tell me that you don’t want to take a bite.”

  She cracked a small, grudging smile but Alessandra didn’t cave easily. “While I appreciate your humor I have work to do and you just made my work that much more difficult with your little display.”

  “Maybe it’s time to clean house,” I said, shrugging. I could give two shits about her assistant’s unrequited love pangs. “Not trying to tell you how to run your business but that seems messy.” Her glacial expression told me she wasn’t amused. I grinned in the face of her irritation. “Come play hooky with me,” I said.

  “Only you could misinterpret a plainly unwelcome vibe into something else,” she muttered but I could sense she wanted to drop whatever she was doing and leave. I’d say that was a good sign but it counted only if she actually came with me. “Unlike you, I’m not on vacation. I have work to do.” She paused, her gaze narrowing in question. “Out of curiosity, what did you have in mind?”

  “A walking tour of Siena,” I answered, my eyebrows waggling like an overeager tour guide. At that she laughed and my grin broadened. I had her interested. “You game?”

  “I have an apartment in Siena. Why would I want to do a walking tour?”

  “Because if you’re anything like me, you’ve never played tourist, not even in your own city. You might discover things you never knew were interesting right beneath your nose.”

  I had her intrigued. “Siena is a beautiful place. I’m sure there are plenty of interesting places to discover,” she admitted but then said, “However, I don’t have time to entertain you. Find someone else to play tour guide.”

  I pulled a brochure from my pocket and opened it with flourish. “Ha! Our tour comes with a guide. All you need is good walking shoes. Personally, I’m intrigued by the eighteenth-century history and I’ve been assured that our guide is well versed in ancient history, so we should enjoy many unscripted anecdotes about life in ancient Siena. Now, doesn’t that sound far more fun than whatever you’re doing right now?”

  Whatever she was working on had put a furrow in her brow. I could fairly see the tension in her shoulders. I wanted to work out those knots with my hands just for the excuse of being able to roam her body...and maybe get some information about the Baroni family business along the way. I needed to find a weak spot—anything I could, really—that would put me at an advantage to get her to sell. “It would be a nice change of pace,” she admitted, almost to herself, but she wasn’t about to stop. The woman had an admirable iron will. It was a shame my father was so intent on taking her winery. I had a feeling he would like her. Or they would shred each other to pieces. Either way, the display would be spectacular.

  Alessandra leaned back in her chair, regarding me openly with amusement. “So, back home, are you this easily distracted? I can’t imagine that you get much work done.”

  At home I was nothing like this. I was a workaholic. “No,” I admitted. “I’m like you. I work from sunup to sundown. I rarely take vacations and I don’t have a lot of friends.” What had started out as a sardonic quip ended with stark honesty that struck a deep chord inside me. When had that happened? When had I lost all sense of balance in my life? Since being here in Italy, I’d actually enjoyed my downtime, taking a break from the work I was usually hardwired to do. Well, there would be time enough to return to the grind when I was back in the States. “But I’m not at home. I’m here and I want to spend every moment with you. Naked or otherwise.”

  Her cheeks colored and her teeth worried her bottom lip as she tried not to smile, but I could see through her. Maybe I should’ve just bypassed the walking tour and invited her to spend the day in bed. We seemed to have a lot in common between the sheets and there was little to argue when our mouths (and other parts) were otherwise occupied.

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  She wasn’t going to budge. Time to switch up strategies. “Okay, all kidding aside, I know it’s probably too much to spring a walking tour on you at the last minute but it wouldn’t hurt you to change the scenery for an hour or two, would it?”

  “An hour or two?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” She crossed her arms and regarded me with a subtle smile. “And what exactly did you have in mind to do for this hour or two?”

  I had to think fast. “Actually, I’d enjoy a tour of Castello di Baroni.”

  She snorted. “There are guided tours for that. If you check with the gift shop they’ll let you know when the next tour starts.”

  “I’m not interested in the tourist version. I want the family version.”

  “You aren’t family.”

  “Maybe not but my family did build this place and, what can I say, I’m curious.” I grinned. “Give me the private tour.”

  “You are so damn presumptuous.”

  “And persistent,” I added for her and she laughed. “You know I’m right.”

  Alessandra sighed and closed her laptop. “Fine. One hour, nothing more.”

  I didn’t even try to hide my triumph and when she tried to walk past me, I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight, immediately springing to attention the minute those lush curves settled against the hard planes of my body. “Should I admit that you’re the hottest tour guide I’ve ever seen?” I said right before sealing my mouth to hers.

  Her tongue met mine with an urgency that belied her casually annoyed attitude at my untimely intrusion into her day. I saw through her prot
ests and felt with my body how she craved mine. We were the same, even if we were worlds apart geographically.

  Which was why she would ultimately understand that there was room for only one victor in this game.

  And it would be me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Alessandra

  HE HAD THIS way about him—something that twisted and turned inside my psyche, rendering me unable to say no, even when I should. That was all I could say in my own defense as I closed up my office with a short note written to Como and led Dante on a private tour of my family home.

  Sometimes I forgot how the property must look to fresh eyes. For me, it was simply home but it was truly massive. The largest property in the Chianti Classico region, our property dominated the rolling hills and stretched for 1,200 hectares with vineyards and olive groves.

  But not all of the manor was in great shape. We’d closed off sections of it for safety purposes as repairs were needed to make them habitable; however, it was a lower priority because our family wasn’t as prolific as it once was and it simply wasn’t needed.

  However, there was a section of the manor that had always been a favorite play place for me as a child and it was still relatively safe, even though it wasn’t in great shape.

  Slipping my hand into Dante’s, I led him down the curving stone staircase and toward the northern section of the manor. The front door looked straight out of medieval times with its metal bracing and old-fashioned key and lock. I unlocked it and gave the solid wood door a hard push as it groaned in protest. The smell of mildew and time tickled my nose and I glanced back at Dante with a beguiling smile. “Still want the tour?”

  “Hell yes, this is fantastic,” he said, surprising me with genuine interest as he took in the history of the architecture and the creep of decay. “How old is this section of the manor?”

  “It wasn’t part of the original build so we think it was built sometime in the eighteen hundreds, but records have been unreliable. Our best guess is as good as we can come to the actual timeline.”