The Italian's Unexpected Heir

by Jennifer Faye

  He frowned. “I don’t know. Nothing is official. The buyer is flying in two weeks from now to take a tour of the grounds.”

  “He’s buying a place he’s never seen?” Who did such a thing?

  “He’s been here for a wedding. And he’s enjoyed the wine for many years. He says he’s getting older now and is ready to settle down.”

  “How is running a vineyard settling down?”

  Enzo shrugged. He worked from sunrise until sunset and always had more than he could get done in one day. “Not my problem.”

  “Can we go over my calendar?” she asked.

  Enzo checked his wristwatch. “Not now. I have to meet up with Vito. We’re having problems locating a replacement part for one of our tanks. Maybe later.”

  He already had one foot out the door when she thought of how she could gain more of his time. “How about dinner?”

  He paused once more. “I can’t eat until late.”

  “No problem. It’ll give me a chance to throw something together.” She wasn’t sure what it would be but suddenly her appetite was starting to come back.

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m positive.”

  When he was gone, Sylvie worked to finish up the last of her urgent admin. The rest could wait until later. Right now she had something important on her mind—saving the estate. She had two weeks to convince Enzo that this was where he was meant to be. But how could she do it?

  CHAPTER THREE

  INSTEAD OF THINGS getting better, they were getting worse.

  And it wasn’t just the broken equipment in the winery.

  Enzo had been grouchy with Sylvie and he hadn’t meant to be. In fact, that was the very opposite of how he meant to act around her. Until that unforgettable night in Paris, she had been one of his closest friends.

  Even though he had been busy doing everything he could to market his wine to new stores and foreign vendors, he always made time for her. Sylvie’s smile was contagious and lightened his darkest days. Meeting up with her had always been the highlight of his day. Then he’d gone and mucked everything up.

  Why hadn’t he just been a gentleman and walked away after she’d kissed him? Because he couldn’t. The magnetic pull between them had been something he’d never felt before.

  And that night in Paris, wow. That night had been amazing. He still thought of it when he was alone in bed and sleep was evading him, as it did often these days.

  The question was how did he get things back on track with Sylvie? He missed their friendship, but every time he was around her, words didn’t come out the way he meant them to. And now when she looked at him, he felt even guiltier not only for the night in Paris but also for now taking her home and job. If only she’d let him help her get resettled somewhere else, he would feel better. In fact, he intended to talk to her about it tonight at the dinner she’d insisted on preparing.

  He checked the time. It was almost eight. How did it get to be so late? He knew he better head up to the guesthouse before she thought he’d forgotten about dinner. The last thing he needed was to make things even worse between them. They were bad enough already.

  And so he set off for the guesthouse where Sylvie was now living and working. He could fix things. He wouldn’t give up until she listened to reason.

  As he neared the guesthouse, his thoughts turned to its prior resident. His youngest sister, Gia, had stayed here after their parents had died. Only she hadn’t stayed here long. It seemed to him that she couldn’t get away from the estate fast enough, first to find her biological father, who turned out to be a total and utter jerk, and then finally to move permanently to the island of Lapri with some guy she barely knew. But who was he to judge?

  He’d believed everything his parents had told them without question. And when he’d overheard something that conflicted with his illusion of the perfect family, he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. He’d failed his sisters. And he’d failed himself.

  Enzo stepped up to the door of the guesthouse and rapped his knuckles on the heavy wood. When a few moments passed and Sylvie hadn’t answered, he knocked louder. Still nothing. He moved to the side of the door and peered inside the window. It was dark in the front room. He figured she was in the kitchen at the back of the little house and hadn’t heard him.

  He walked to the back door and knocked. Still, there was no answer. What was up with that? He searched his memory and was certain she’d invited him to dinner tonight. He backed up and noticed there were no lights on back here, either. Was it possible he’d gotten his wires crossed? Had she meant the main house?

  Not wanting her to know just how distracted he was these days, his pride refused to allow him to text her. He’d just walk up to the main house and pretend that was where he’d intended to go all along.

  However, when he reached the back of the villa, it was dark inside, too. How could that be? Maybe he really had misconstrued what she’d told him.

  Through the window in the door, he noticed the soft glow of the small light over the big farmhouse sink—his mother had always left on a light for his father when he’d worked late in the fields. As Enzo grasped the brass doorknob of the kitchen door, he gave himself a mental jerk. He tried not to think about his parents. Every time he did, his mood went south. That wouldn’t be fair to Sylvie, who had gone out of her way to make him dinner. At least he thought she had.

  He pushed the door open and stepped inside. He moved to the kitchen and flipped on the lights. The kitchen was spiffed up and as he inhaled, he definitely detected some basil and tomato sauce. He had a feeling he was on to something.

  As it was a bit chilly outside that evening, he was certain Sylvie wasn’t planning a terrace dinner. Perhaps she’d decided to utilize the dining room in order to use the long table to spread out her paperwork that she wanted to go over with him.

  He started in that direction. However, when the doorway to the dining room came into sight, he noticed the door was almost closed while a flicker of soft light shone through the crack. Sylvie had planned a candlelight dinner for him?

  As soon as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. He’d ruined any chance of anything romantic between them. Not that he was interested in starting a relationship. In fact, that was the last thing he wanted.

  His personal life was a disaster. He might have won full ownership of the Bartolini estate but he’d lost what made it special—his family. In truth, he hadn’t even won control of it. He’d won out of default. His sisters didn’t want the place. They’d rather move far away and start over. Not that he could blame them after the way their lives had imploded upon finding their mother’s journal.

  But he wasn’t going to think about that now. Right now he needed to make sure Sylvie hadn’t gotten the wrong idea about tonight’s dinner.

  He pushed the door open. There was a single candle lit in the vast room. He squinted into the darkness. “Sylvie?”

  The lights flicked on, momentarily blinding him.

  “Surprise!” It wasn’t just Sylvie’s voice but a whole host of voices.

  When his sight adjusted, he glanced around. Crowded into the dining room were all the workers from the vineyard as well as friends and neighbors. And then his gaze rested on Sylvie.

  His jaw muscles tightened. He didn’t want to celebrate his birthday. Not at all.

  But everyone looked at him with a big smile on their faces and expectation in their eyes. He was certain they all had better things to do with their time, but they’d taken time out of their lives to come here to celebrate his birthday. They didn’t know that this year of all years he didn’t have the heart to celebrate.

  Still, he forced a smile to his face. Many of these people had worked for his family for decades. He owed them more than a fake smile, but it was the most he could do at this particular moment.

  And then he w
as swallowed up in the moment. People were shaking his hand, clapping him on the back and wishing him a happy birthday.

  What they didn’t know and what he didn’t tell them was that they would never come together like this again. And the vineyard workers would be losing their jobs in the near future, when the new owner took over.

  Until this point, Enzo had refused to let himself acknowledge this very obvious—very painful fact. He knew if he was to consider it, he might very well back away from the offer. And then what? He remained here?

  He didn’t want to think about the past and wonder what else their parents had lied to them about. He wanted to do what his sisters had done and turn his back on this place.

  Of all the people here this evening, he noticed that his sisters weren’t among the guests. Not that he would expect them to drop everything in their very busy lives and travel here for his thirty-second birthday. But they’d never not remembered to give him a card. No matter where they were in their lives or in the world, they always remembered each other’s birthdays. Until now.

  “Great party, huh?”

  Enzo glanced to his right. “Yeah.”

  Next to him stood his right-hand man, Vito. He had also been his father’s second-in-command. His father and Vito had grown up together. But looking at Vito now, the only thing betraying his true age was his silver hair and mustache. Other than that, the man didn’t look old enough to have grown children, nor did he act as though his first grandchild was on the way. He was a man with an abundance of energy and a smile for most anyone.

  “It’s too bad your parents aren’t here to share this with you,” Vito said. “They’d love it.”

  Enzo didn’t want to discuss them. He had too many mixed emotions where they were concerned.

  “Did you get something to eat?” Enzo asked.

  “I was headed that way. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” He extended his hand. They shook before sharing a quick one-armed hug. And then Vito moved toward the food.

  The fact Sylvie went to so much trouble for him should have touched him—touched him deeply. And it did. But there was also another feeling nagging at him. Guilt. A huge case of it.

  Why had she gone to such trouble for him? He didn’t deserve it. He had let his frustrations show around her and that wasn’t good. He could do better where Sylvie was concerned. He would do better.

  There were meats and cheeses. A fruit platter took up a large portion of the table. Pasta was heaped in a large bowl with oil, olives, fresh diced tomatoes and herbs. There was enough food here to feed a small army. And as good as it all looked and smelled, he didn’t have an appetite.

  “Where’s your plate?” Sylvie asked once the crowd thinned out around him.

  “I...uh...didn’t have a chance to get anything.” He hoped she’d drop the subject, but he knew her well enough to know she’d push until he ate something.

  “Then let’s get you something.” She reached for a plate and handed it to him. “Fill it up before the food is all gone.”

  If he had to eat, she did, too. “Where’s your food?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to get some, either. So why don’t we get some together?” She smiled at him. How was it possible that someone’s smile could be so bright it warmed a spot in his chest?

  He grabbed a plate for Sylvie and handed it to her. “Lead the way.”

  And so she did, helping him fill his plate until there was absolutely no room left. “How am I supposed to eat all of this?”

  “You’ve worked hard all day. And those are all your favorites. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

  It was then that he stared down at the plate. She was right. These were all his favorites. “You did this, didn’t you?”

  She shrugged as she added some fresh fruit to her plate. “I just remembered. And I might have texted Bianca.”

  He smiled—his first smile of the day. “I’m not so sure how I feel about you and my sister being such good friends.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll learn all of your secrets?”

  Her innocent words struck far too close to home. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The smile slipped from her face. “Doesn’t everyone have things they are holding back?”

  He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not at all. “Let’s sit down and eat.”

  As they made their way to a couple of empty chairs, he rolled around her words in his mind. Was she referring to his family’s secrets? Because he was certain she didn’t know his secret. Or was she referring to her own?

  Once they were seated, his curiosity was piqued. “Are you saying you’re a woman of mystery?”

  She arched a brow. “Would you like that?”

  He pursed his lips together. There were still so many things about Sylvie that he didn’t know. And he couldn’t help but think he wanted to know everything about her. But now that he’d decided to sell the estate, she would be leaving here. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. Too soon.

  It was best to let the subject drop. “What I’d like is to enjoy this food because there’s this great big cake with my name on it.”

  Sylvie smiled. “You saw that?”

  “How could I miss it? It’s huge and in the center of the table. How did you get the bakery to make it so quickly? Or did you have this party planned for a long time?”

  “Actually, I didn’t realize it was your birthday until yesterday when I saw a notation on my day planner. There wasn’t any time to order a cake so I made it—”

  “You baked me a birthday cake?”

  She shrugged. “Kind of.”

  “I don’t understand. You baked it or you didn’t?”

  “It’s a box cake. Actually, it’s four boxes. I wanted to make sure there was enough for everyone.”

  “Box or not, you’re the first person aside from my mother to ever bake me a cake.” The gesture touched him more profoundly than it should have. He leaned over to her. He was so tempted to reach out and turn her head toward him so he could press his lips to hers. The thought was so very, very tempting.

  But not wanting to ruin this moment, he pressed a kiss to her cheek instead. “Thank you, for all of this.”

  Color filled her cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

  And then before she could eat her food, she was called away to the kitchen. He wanted to go after her—to offer his help with whatever it might be. But he knew he couldn’t push this thing between them—this second chance at a friendship.

  “She’s certainly something, isn’t she?”

  Enzo glanced up to find Vito standing there, smiling. “Excuse me?”

  “Sylvie, she did all of this for you. You’re one lucky man to have her in your life.”

  “She’s not in my life.” The statement came out with more force than he’d meant.

  Vito’s bushy brows rose high on his forehead. “Really? I thought you two were a couple.”

  Enzo gave a firm shake of his head. He cleared his throat. “We’re just friends.” Not wanting to continue this discussion, he said, “Excuse me. I need to go check on something.”

  As Enzo walked away, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Vito had said. There was still a part of him that wished Vito was right. But he had absolutely nothing to offer her.

  His life was in turmoil. He wasn’t even sure where he was going to live once the estate was sold. And then there was the fact he didn’t deserve to have Sylvie in his life. He didn’t want to fail her like he’d failed his sisters.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THERE WAS A PEP to his step.

  This was going to be a good day.

  Enzo had slept well for the first time in forever. He tried to tell himself it was exhaustion that had let him slumber. But he wasn’t that good of a liar. He knew it was the engaging party last night. A
nd Sylvie.

  She was such a remarkable woman. He had no idea she’d been planning a surprise party. And she’d made sure to invite everyone who worked at the vineyard as well as the neighbors. It had been so thoughtful—so sweet.

  Some man was going to be very fortunate to marry her. She would make a loving wife. Not to mention a wonderful mother. The vision of her holding a baby in her arms filled his mind. The baby would be a little girl and she’d be the spitting image of her mother. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  Then the image morphed as he envisioned Sylvie laughing at something. A man moved next to her, placing an arm around her waist and pulling her gently to his side. She melted into him. The love in her eyes—

  Enzo’s thoughts screeched to a halt. The smile that had been playing on his lips turned to a distinctive frown. Not that he had any claim over Sylvie. They may have shared a night—a special night—but it was over. And he wanted her to be happy. He just didn’t want to think about her being happy with someone else.

  “Enzo, are you out here?” Sylvie’s voice was carried on the morning breeze.

  It was though his thoughts of her had drawn her to him. Of course, that was silly. Things like that didn’t happen.

  “I’m over here.” He took a sip of his quickly cooling coffee and then he turned to her.

  “Good morning.” She sent him a smile.

  Was it just him or did she look a bit on the pale side? It was probably the party last night. It had been hugely successful, but it had to have been a lot for her to set up so quickly. And then it had run late into the evening.

  He suddenly felt bad for not ending the party sooner. But after he’d eaten the delicious food and amazing cake Sylvie had baked, which he didn’t believe could have come out of a box, he’d had a renewed energy. He’d made his way around the room talking with everyone who took time out of their busy lives to show up.