Of fucking course she did.
“How do you know her?” I ask.
“We met at the Bellanti event,” Rico says with a smile. “She is the one who told me where to find you. I met many of your colleagues that night.”
I bite back my rage as I read the message she sent Rico, timestamped just after I left the Bellanti offices not even an hour ago.
“SO MANY CONGRATULATIONS to you and Frankie on your co-ownership of the Abbott Winery! The whole office just heard the happy news! The Bellanti Vineyards tasting room will miss her as an employee, of course, but we know you two have a bright future ahead!”
I try to school my features so he doesn’t see how this is affecting me, but I have a feeling I’m failing. Of course Rico would have made connections with everybody at Bellanti. He probably schmoozed his way around the whole event before he even bothered to ask about me. I can only imagine how many names and contacts he collected from my coworkers. Not to mention how many free glasses of wine he took advantage of.
That’s how Rico works. He worms his way into every part of your life with his good looks and his sweet words and that damned Italian accent. Add in some well targeted compliments, some shared interests, a few bullshit stories that have you thinking you know him much better than you really do, and suddenly he’s your best friend, all in the blink of an eye.
Little do you suspect that the whole reason he works so hard getting to know you so fast isn’t because he’s genuinely interested in you. It’s because he’s trying to find your weaknesses so he can use them against you. To get what he wants.
“So, how much do you think we can get for it?” he says, snapping me out of my brooding.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“The winery! How much do you think it is worth? We will list it right away since we might have to wait for a buyer, and we will sell off all the equipment separately. Or we can cut up the land into cheaper parcels, I bet those will sell faster.” He’s pacing as he talks, full of energy and excitement over the fortune that just landed in his lap. “Maybe we just auction it off to the highest bidder in a short sale, no? Even if we do not get what it is worth, we will still make millions. Just think, we can finally have enough money for that honeymoon, ha ha!”
The more he goes on, the more I realize that he doesn’t give a shit about me, or the winery, or anybody but himself.
“Oh, I met a real estate guy at the pressing event, too—a developer!” he adds, nodding to himself. “He said he was looking for land to build a new subdivision. We can make a killing selling to a developer like that. Maybe they will even name it after us. Correa Estates. Correa Ridge. Correa—”
“Rico, stop.” My face is hot, flushing with anger, and I get up from the chair and cross my arms over my chest. “What about my family? My older sister is an event planner for the winery right now, so where is she supposed to go? And my little sister keeps her horses at the Abbott stables. She rides there. We can’t just sell off the whole property out from under them.”
He shakes his head with a patronizing smile. “Frankie. Millions of dollars can buy lots of new horses. And your family would not have to work! In fact, you will never have to worry your pretty little head about anything ever again. I will take care of everything for you.”
I know he’s lying. I’ve heard all this—or some version of this—before. And I recognize the gleam in his eye, too. It’s the exact same frenzied, half-manic gleam I saw the last day we were together back in Italy.
I’m struggling to keep my breathing even. I’m struggling even more not to let loose on him.
“Come on, Frankie.” He comes over and puts a placating hand on my shoulder, giving me that boyish look. The one that used to make me do anything for him. “I am your husband. I just want what is best for you, don’t you see that?”
There’s no doubt in my mind: Rico Correa is getting ready to cut and run. He’ll take whatever he can from me and then leave me in the dust. He doesn’t give a shit how things will turn out for me. He only cares about himself.
I shake his hand off and storm out without another word. He shouts at me to come back as I make my way across the parking lot, but I don’t turn around.
Once I’m back in the car, I peel out of there as fast as I can.
At least when Dante used me, he had the grace to tell me to my face.
12
Frankie
Well,that was a shitshow.
Not that I’m surprised at how my visit went. We’re talking about Rico, after all. “Shitshow” should be his middle name.
I need to talk to Dante again. Get him to tell me what kind of price tag my father put on my head. There’s no way I can even begin to start planning how to pay back my family’s debt when I have no clue how much my dad owes the Bellantis.
But getting Dante to see me won’t be easy. Nothing is easy when it comes to him.
The fact is, every single car that passes through the gates of Bellanti Vineyards is seen by dozens of pairs of eyes—as well as cameras and security guards—before it gets anywhere near the house. Now that I’ve made such a loud (and very public) scene in the Bellanti offices, I’m sure everyone at the vineyard knows I’m not welcome there anymore…so I can’t just roll up and hope to get past Jessica again. Security guards would surround my car before I even set foot on the gravel driveway. Fuck.
There’s only one way I can think of. I don’t know how else to get in. But this plan of mine is about as insane as going to see Rico this morning…
