It felt amazing to walk into work at the Bellanti offices today, to sit down in my fancy ergonomic Aeron chair behind my gleaming new desk, in an office right down the hall from Dante. I’ve got a hot coffee in my hand, my laptop open, and I’m raring to go.
The staff seem happy to see me, if a bit wary and unsure about the office politics—especially with Jessica being let go for the second time in a row—but I’m determined to put any and all drama behind us.
Mid-morning, I ask Ruby, the main receptionist and office administrator, to come in and see me so I can chat with her and get a better sense of how the vineyard’s record keeping and financial planning works. Soon enough she’s showing me the books, huge binders full of printouts from our management software, complete with detailed budget breakdowns.
“This is great,” I tell her. “I can’t believe you have to keep on top of so much stuff.”
“You have no idea. Glad to know someone appreciates it,” she says.
“I’m going to get you a raise,” I promise. “And an assistant. And a cake.”
She laughs. “Two out of three, and I’ll never retire.”
After expressing my gratitude again, I send her away and dive right in. Before I know it, I’ve spent an hour catching up on all the Bellanti Vineyard’s books, including the itinerary and budget for the upcoming End of Harvest Gala that Charlie organized. I’ve been excited for this event since its conception, and as the days grow shorter, and the fall colors richer, my excitement grows. I have so much to do.
There’s a knock on my door shortly after lunch. Marco pops his dark head in and gives a sheepish grin. I was expecting him hours ago.
“I’m here to give you a tour around the fields.” He steps fully into my office and I’m slightly surprised to see him dressed casually.
“You mean the tour that was supposed to happen at nine a.m.?” I ask, lifting a brow.
He gives me a grin that I’m sure he uses to get exactly what he wants—and I have no doubt that it works. “I had a fast weekend with my car at the races. Thought I deserved a slow morning to recuperate.”
I roll my eyes good-naturedly and stand from behind my desk. He gives me a once-over.
“You might want to change your clothes. A pencil skirt isn’t going to cut it.”
“I’m not sure if I’m more curious about what you have planned, or impressed that you know what a pencil skirt is.”
He winks. “I only know skirts by how quickly they can be removed. Those have zippers straight down the back. One pull and they’re off.” He pauses. “I suppose talking this way is against office policy. But you’re family, so does it really count?”
“It counts. I’ll let it slide this one time.” I wave him out of my office. “Let’s go.”
On our way out, we hear Armani and Candi chatting in his office. Her voice is light and friendly, while his is even more stilted and quiet than usual. Marco gives me a knowing glance, and I grin. Whatever is going on between those two, Armani can’t fight it forever.
I pop into the main house to change into jeans. When I get back outside I see Marco waiting in the yard, holding the reins of a horse in each hand.
“Ytse!” I shout. I all but float over to the gelding.
Marco hands me the reins with a smile. He chose a large buckskin for himself. I’m so happy to get back on my horse that I can barely stand it.
I let Marco give me a boost into the saddle and then lean forward to wrap my arms around Ytse’s neck. He gives a toss as if welcoming me and paws a hoof in the dirt. Marco mounts up and leads the way. As I move up beside him, his gaze drops to my hand.
“Couldn’t help noticing that ring on your finger. Might that be a Bellanti family heirloom?”
“Why, yes it is.”
“Thank God,” he says. “With you around, Dante might actually become a Real Boy again. I never in a million years thought my brother would fall in love.”
I laugh. “What about you, Marco?”
He puts a hand on his chest. “Me? I’m always in love. I fall in love every day. I’m never lonely!”
But despite his words, I hear a whisper of bitterness underneath the bravado. Such a dichotomy to his words. Knowing what I do of Dante’s upbringing, I suspect that all three brothers are lonely in their own respects. They have each other, but they’re not bonded the way my sisters and I are. The Bellantis’ relationships strike me as more professional than intimate.
Nudging my horse closer, I ask, “What was it like, growing up with Dante?”
“You don’t want to know.” He laughs. “But seriously, he wasn’t all that different. When he was younger, he was more full of anger I suppose. And much quicker to beat my ass.”
I catch the same mix of sadness and bravado in his voice.
“Why do you think he was so angry?”
Marco’s smile fades. “Come on, Frankie. I think you know the answer to that.”
He makes a clicking sound to signal his horse to canter, and they take off over the first set of gentle hills. I nudge Ytse forward so we can catch up, and I’m out of breath when we finally come to a stop beside Marco. He’s taking in the view of the vineyard’s neat rows, the vines bursting with autumnal shades of russet and gold and deep, fiery red.
“Beautiful,” I comment.
Marco nods. I expect him to take off again, but instead he starts to talk.
“Our father was a harsh man, but he was harshest on Dante,” he says haltingly. “I was the troublemaker and probably punished the most, out of the three of us. But I didn’t take anything to heart. The shit that Dad pulled just rolled off my back.
“But Dante isn’t like me. He felt every mistake deep in his bones, and he never made the same misstep twice. Which made him careful, but also…miserable. And very cold. But then…”
There’s a beat of silence. I’m holding my breath because I want him to continue.
“Then?” I ask gently.
“Then I saw the way he smiled at you at breakfast. He must really love you after all.”
I’m not sure how to respond, but Marco and his buckskin take off again, so I don’t have to. We don’t stop until we reach the highest hill, where the horses finally get a chance to rest.
From our vantage point, he shows me the lay of the land, explaining the layout of the entire Bellanti property. He goes into the history of each section of the vineyard, which lines were planted when, where the starter vines came from, and how each section produces. I never pegged him as being overly involved in the family business, but the more he talks, the more I realize how invested he is. And how he might just be the cleverest of the Bellanti brothers. He’s sharper than I ever gave him credit for.
Back at the vineyard stables, I spy Charlie’s car coming up the drive. It’s mid-afternoon, so she must be dropping off Livvie. Patting Ytse on the neck, I say, “Let’s give them a little surprise, huh boy?”
I heel him into a gallop and fly down the vine rows. The horse easily hops the ditch and comes to a sliding stop right alongside the gravel drive. Charlie barely rolls to a stop before Livvie jumps out and races toward me. I dismount just in time to catch my sister in a big hug. Ytse tosses his head, but he’s too cool to care about a bunch of squealing women.
Tears well up in Livvie’s eyes. “How did this happen? Where did you find them?”
“Not all of them,” I tell her gently. “Armani’s been working on it. But we have the pregnant mares, Maeije and Avina. And Max.”
Livvie can’t hold back anymore. She bursts into sobs, burying her face in Ytse’s mane. I rub her back in slow circles and Charlie comes over and wraps us all in a group hug. Marco clears his throat softly from behind us. I’d forgotten he was following Ytse and me.
“I’ll take Ytse back to the stable so you all can be together,” he offers.
Livvie whips him a look over her shoulder while wiping her eyes with one hand. “Not on your life! I’m gonna go see Max. Make sure he still remembers me.”
She vaults into the saddle and nudges the big black horse toward the stables. Charlie and I watch as Livvie and Ytse take off, Marco giving chase, Livvie’s laugh floating back to us.
“It’s good to see her like this again,” Charlie says.
I nod. “Is Clayton back yet?”
My sister’s face falls and she shakes her head no. He’s been away a long time.
“It’s settled then,” I tell her. “You’re staying for dinner.”
Before she can argue, I whip out my phone and text Alain to set out an extra plate. Then we get in the car and drive back to the main house. She asks about Dante and our weekend away, and I fill her in on some of the G-rated details.
“You know, he really seems to be trying. He’s actually opening up to me.”
Charlie doesn’t look convinced. “I hope you’re right. But I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“That’s fair,” I concede. Especially since she’s my big sister—no man has ever been good enough for me in Charlie’s eyes. “Do you want to come up to the main house, or can I set you up with some wine? I need to take a quick shower before dinner.”
“How is that even a question? Wine is always the answer.”
We park in the guest lot and I lead her into the tasting room. Armani and Candi are at a table by the big picture windows, apparently still engrossed in conversation. Candi waves in welcome and Charlie heads over to join them.
I motion for a server to send around the house red before heading back to the main house. When I step out of the bathroom wrapped in one of Dante’s robes, I find him in the bedroom changing. He’s mostly undressed, and I take advantage of his bare torso, running my hands and lips all over him. As we start to kiss, quickly going from soft and sweet to hot and heavy, he slides his hands under the robe and palms my ass. I let out a soft moan.
“Dante,” I pant.
“I’d love to keep going with this,” he says between kisses, “but dinner.”
“Fine.” I pull back from him with a melodramatic sigh. “I suppose eating food is a thing.”
We both finish dressing, but I can’t help noticing that Dante looks like he has something on his mind. And even though we don’t have time to get into it right now, I know we have things we need to discuss. Like Rico, for one.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, turning so he can zip up my light blue dress.
“I was just wondering if you’d heard from your father lately.”
I turn back around and shrug. “He hasn’t been in contact. Not that that’s unusual for him, but…it’s kind of been a while. What about the name I gave you? Any leads on Bregman?”
He frowns. “Armani’s still working on it. No sign of him, as yet. It’s like the guy dropped off the face of the planet without a trace. Which in itself is a red flag.”
I wrap my arms around him, sharing in the mutual frustration for a moment before pulling away and taking his hand.
We enter the dining room to find the table pleasantly full. Charlie is there sipping a glass of wine, and Livvie and Marco sit side by side, smelling faintly of horse, but having one hell of a conversation considering the way she’s slapping him with her napkin while he tries to grab it from her. Before I knew Marco better, I might have worried at his teasing. But it’s clear he’s not serious, and I know Livvie’s not interested in him that way.
Smiling, I take my seat at the foot of the table, Dante at the head, Armani and Charlie to my left. The Livvie-Marco banter continues, and I tune in just in time to hear Livvie say, “Surprising, considering you’re a total man ho,” skewering Marco with a particularly well-placed barb.
I press my lips together, trying to suppress my laugh, but Marco takes it all in stride.
“Man ho I may be, but at least I go for what I want—unlike Armani, who collects interest but never cashes in.”
Marco wags his eyebrows at his brother.
Armani coolly folds his hands on the table in front of them. “That may be true, but at least my penis won’t fall off from some exotic STD.”
Livvie snorts a laugh, and Dante takes the opportunity to cut in.
“Armani,” he says reprovingly, “don’t say ‘penis.’ There are ladies present.”
Armani has the grace to look chastised. Marco sighs in annoyance at Dante’s scolding.
“Say ‘dick’ instead,” Dante continues. “I believe that’s what the kids call it these days.”
There’s a collective intake. Did Dante just make a fucking joke? A stunned silence fills the room, and then the whole table erupts in laughter. Even Dante allows himself a self-satisfied smile and gives me a wink.
Marco slaps a hand on the table as he laughs. “If this is what having a wife does for Dante, we should have married him off years ago!”