His face does that thing where every shred of emotion disappears. He’s unreadable.
“Dante?”
“I heard you.”
“So…?”
He digs his phone from his pocket and brushes past me into the office.
“So I have work to do. Make sure your sister has everything prepared for the First Press event tomorrow. And Frankie”—he looks back at me—“no more surprises.”
28
Frankie
Today’s the big day.Nothing can go wrong.
But considering the way that life here at Bellanti Vineyards has been going lately, that might be a bit of a longshot.
Charlie’s been working on putting together the First Press event behind the scenes, doing what she does best, and pulling out all the stops so it’ll be picture-perfect. My idea was the impetus for this whole thing, but to Marco’s credit, he immediately latched onto the concept and ran with it. I guess because to him, it sounded a lot like throwing a huge party. As for Dante, he just signed on the dotted lines—with Armani’s enthusiastic support, of course.
First Press will officially commemorate the first batches of BellantiandAbbott grapes going into the winepress. After countless hours of research and debate and calculation, Dante, Marco, and I were finally able to come up with what we believe will be the perfect blend of Bellanti Sangiovese grapes and Abbott Canaiolo grapes. We’re going to produce a spectacular Chianti, mark my words. And what better way to celebrate the marriage of the Bellanti and Abbott wineries than by launching a new annual tradition?
The media will be in attendance, the entire staff will be on hand, and the limited number of tickets we offered to the public sold out almost immediately. Close business associates and our local trade partners were invited, of course, and whomever the Bellantis had on their guest list. We’re expecting to host about two hundred guests total. Basically the huge party Marco wanted, except this party is a combination press conference and exclusive wine tasting all in one.
Attendees will get a first taste of the previous year’s harvest, along with outrageously expensive hors d’oeuvres from a catering company that Charlie swears by and special treats created by our friends at theviennoiseriejust for the event. Then we’ll have music and dancing to end the night.
Fates willing, First Press will be held every year. But in order to cement its permanent placement on the Bellanti calendar of events, it’s imperative that we get off on the right foot today. So, yeah. No pressure. Beyond the initial idea, I haven’t actually had a lot to do with the planning. That’s my sister’s department, and I’m both excited and anxious to see what she’s arranged.
“Frankie.”
Dante appears in the doorway of my bedroom as I’m putting my earrings in. I don’t acknowledge him right away and he steps inside, taking up space in that way he has. I can’t help but look. I glance, then look again and soak him up.
His suit is perfectly cut and accentuates all his strong, long lines. It’s a three-piece sharkskin in deep charcoal with a light gray shirt and tie interwoven with pale yellow threads. Glancing down at myself, I’m astounded to realize that we…match. We didn’t plan to. We certainly didn’t talk about it ahead of time. But here we are.
“We’re matching. A little bit, anyway,” I say as I attempt to clasp my necklace. I’m having a hard time taking my eyes off him.
He comes up behind me, hands on my hips. I go completely still. His breath is warm on the back of my neck, and I shiver as he runs his hands up my sides before bringing them to my hands. He takes the necklace ends from my fingers and gently works the clasp.
“Yellow suits you,” he says, smoothing the chain along the back of my neck, his touch trailing over my bare shoulders.
“Thank you.”
His warmth is suddenly gone, and I realize he’s stepped away. Looking at myself in the mirror, I fuss with my updo. Curls have already fallen into tendrils around my face. I leave them.
My pale-yellow pleated gown has a plunging yet tastefully narrow neckline, an empire waist, and a long skirt that brushes the tops of my heels. It’s magical, reminiscent of a sunbeam…and it was egregiously expensive. But the moment I saw it, I knew it was the one—and now that I’m wearing it, I feel like a goddess. It’s almost enough to take the sting of my problems away. Temporarily, at least.
Dante leans toward me and brings his mouth close to my ear. “Time to go.”
I turn toward his voice, my lips nearly brushing his. We stare at each other a moment before he pulls away with a shadow of a grin and guides me out the door with his hand on the dip of my back.
The press conference is first. Media people are already assembled and waiting inside a white tent set up near the mouth of the vineyard. I take a glass of chardonnay from a tray that one of the waiters is revolving through the room with and hold it with both hands as Dante, Marco, and Armani gather behind a duo of microphones and face the waiting press.
Marco takes center and addresses the crowd. “Welcome to Bellanti Vineyards.”
I wander just outside the tent while the Bellanti men talk, and take a moment to survey what my sister has created. The grounds are incredible. Little lights hang everywhere, the rows of bentwood chairs and long picnic tables perfectly arranged. Chandeliers hang from tree branches overhead, while topiaries grace the walkways between tables. She chose shades of blush pink, white, and pale green, giving a fresh, elegant look.
I spy Charlie and Livvie near the mini bar and give a little wave. Charlie winks and continues chatting with Livvie—probably lecturing her on not trying to sneak wine like she did at my wedding reception. Guests have started to arrive, and the beautiful space is beginning to fill up nicely. There are a lot of familiar faces, including Candi who I wave to, and Mrs. Alvarez who whipped up special fruit cups just for this event.
