“No, no. Not at all. I just…look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I know it’s not good. Which is none of my business, and that’s okay, but I thought I should give you a heads-up that Dante’s been a beast for the past few days according to the staff.”
“So what else is new?” I quip.
“Seriously,” Candi commiserates. “But yeah. I was supposed to meet with him a half hour ago, but he never showed. Apparently he left the office in a rush earlier and never came back. Said he had to take care of something at the house.”
“That’s weird. And rude, considering you had a meeting scheduled with him.”
Candi shrugs. “Too bad, I had to meet with Armani instead…”
“Doesn’t seem like you were too put out,” I say, picking up on her dreamy look.
“Do not get me started,” she says. “I could meet with Armani Bellanti all day long. That man isn’t just eye candy—he’s the entire candy store. Perfection.”
With that, she gives her fingers the classic chef’s kiss, and I can’t help laughing along with her.
“Okay, well, thanks for the intel,” I say, feeling a little less panicked thanks to Candi’s sassiness. “I’d better go find him before he disappears off to somewhere else.”
After a few more words of encouragement and another hug, she heads to her car. I take a deep, steadying breath and then turn on my heel and take the path toward the main house.
The front door is locked, which is odd—it’s the first time I’ve ever encountered that during the day—so I go around to the back door. Hopefully Alain will let me in if he’s working in the kitchen. I’m just about to check the door handle when I hear a faint voice speaking in Italian from an open window somewhere. Huh.
I follow the sound around the other side of the house, until I’m close enough to the window to catch the sound of the deep male voice culminating in a, “Bellissima, Jessica.”
It’s like I’m compelled to stand on my tiptoes and peer over the sill, and it only takes half a second’s glance to see my nemesis on her knees across the room. She sits back and licks her lips like a satisfied cat. She’s practically purring.
My throat burns with bile. I’ve been nauseous with worry all morning, and now I’m flooded with a sickening rage that pushes me over the edge. I bolt for the hedges that line the walkway and lose what little breakfast I had into the bushes.
I’m shaking all over as I stalk back to the car. Goddamnhim. Right to hell. And damn me for feeling this way. I’m the married one, after all. Dante doesn’t owe his loyalty to anyone. Fuck, fuck, fuck these stupid feelings.
I get in the car and slam the door, then slump down in the driver’s seat, hands over my face. I can’t do this.
I dig my phone out of my bag and send Dante a text.
My husband and I will meet with you tomorrow morning to discuss the terms of our arrangement. 9 a.m. We’ll finish everything.
16
Frankie
Rico isin the passenger seat, tapping an excited drumbeat on the dash with his fingers. Mere inches away, I’m trying my best not to kill him. I don’t know what I ever saw in this asshole.
I picked him up in Vallejo on my way north from San Francisco, and now I have to drop Livvie off at school. After that, Rico and I will go see Dante at the Bellanti offices. That is, if I don’t strangle Rico first.
I glance in the rearview mirror at Livvie in the back seat. She’s staring out the window, headphones in, a slight crease between her brows as she pretends to ignore me and Rico. God, I never wanted these two parts of my world to meet.
Yet seeing my precious little sister and the scumbag I married sitting in a car together only steels my resolve further. I remind myself that Rico Correa is an inconvenience that I need to get around. Livvie, on the other hand, is what really matters—even if it means losing something to Rico.
Tossing and turning in bed last night, I mulled over my (admittedly limited) options. In the end, I decided it made the most sense to just get as much for the vineyard as I can from the Bellantis, dump half the profits on Rico, and then tell him I never want to see him again. With any luck, the money will be enough to get him to sign divorce papers and go back to Italy without a fight. He sure as hell won’t agree to a divorce before he lines his pockets, I know that much. I just wish there was another way out of this.
It kills me to think about selling the vineyard, but my sisters and I are survivors. We can do a pretty decent amount of surviving with a couple million dollars. I know the vineyard is worth at least that, and the Bellantis know it, too. Especially since I’ve already proven the viability of combining our grapes, given the popularity of the upcoming blended chianti. So that’s that. It is what it is. Family heritage is one thing, but living family members is something immeasurably more important.
And if the Bellantis are going to make a mint off my family’s property, the least they can do is compensate us fairly. Even if Dante’s an asshole about it, I have to believe he’ll be fair in the end. Armani will urge him to do the right thing, and I’m pretty sure Marco will, too.
We pull up to the curb at Napa High and drop Livvie off. She leans forward between the seats and says, “Thanks, Frankie. And good luck with your meeting.”
“I’m gonna need it,” I tell her, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head.
Her door barely shuts before Rico starts talking.
