“I married her in a church,” Rico insists, getting belligerent. “With a priest present! It was legal!”
Marco stands and crosses his arms over his chest, looking like he’s ready to crack some skulls. Rico glances up, and seeing Marco looming over him seems to set him off even more.
“Listen to me,” Rico says. “I did not want it to come to this, but you leave me no choice. I have photos of Francesca…compromisingphotos, that it would be a shame for anyone to see if I were to post them on the—”
Before he can even finish, Marco is dragging him out of his seat and planting a fist in his jaw, knocking Rico to the floor. He tries to scramble to his feet, but Marco and Armani grab him first, lifting him up and slamming him back down in the chair. He tries to wriggle out of their grasp, but their iron grips stay locked on his shoulders.
It’s all too much. My face is hot. I feel like I might pass out.
Dante kneels beside me and takes my hand. “Frankie, did you know about the photographs?” His voice is soft, tender. Like I’ve been injured and he’s tending to me.
I shake my head. “No. If he took any, it wasn’t with my permission.”
With a nod, Dante stands again. “What you’re threatening to do is another crime, Correa. I think you’re lying about those photos, but if you aren’t, and they should somehow find their way onto the Internet, there is no country you can hide in where I will not find you—andend you. It’s time for you to leave California. Never come back.”
Rico isn’t given a chance to argue. Marco and Armani just pick him up like a rag doll and drag him out the door. His sputtering and cursing echo down the hall until suddenly, it’s quiet.
Dante sits down next to me again, reaches into his jacket, and pulls out a new document.
“What is that?” I murmur as he sets it on the conference table in front of me.
“It’s a marriage settlement. Read it. It ensures that if Correa, or your father, or anyone elseevertries to come after the Abbott Winery or any of its assets, the law has them wrapped up firmly with the Bellanti family holdings.”
Dante waits patiently while I pore over the contract, my finger following along with every sentence, my heart flooding in my chest as I slowly parse the legal verbiage.
Another marriage for us. A fresh start. A chance at a real union this time.
No matter my sisters’ or my marital status, no one can take over the winery. And speaking of my sisters, he’s worked in a profit-sharing clause regarding the Abbott portion of the wine sales. Which means that even though Charlie still has her job, her income won’t have to rely solely on getting contracted for large events; she’ll have steady money coming in from her cut of the profits. So will Livvie—and she won’t have to give up on her horses or her Olympic dreams, either. Because the land transfer includes the Abbott stables.
I have to wait until the tears swimming in my eyes clear to find the signature line on the last page. Looking at Dante, I ask, “Are you sure about this?”
He smiles. “I meant it when I said any price.” He takes a pen from his breast pocket and holds it out to me. “Be mine, Frankie. For real this time.”
I take the pen and glance away from him just long enough to sign my name on the dotted line before throwing myself in his arms.
I’m so glad that my husband—myrealhusband—always comes through.
27
Frankie
When Charlie had originally pitchedthe masquerade theme for the End of Harvest Gala, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But I trust her creative process, and boy, has it paid off.
She’s gone all out, turning Bellanti Vineyards into a spooky themed wonderland. The trees are decorated in blinking white, gold, and purple fairy lights. Glittery cobwebs ethereally drape the branches. There are also glowing crystal balls lining the walkways, flickering like magic as you pass by. Hidden speakers play a variety of classic haunted house sounds that you can hear whenever the band takes a break. It’s literally breathtaking.
Our guests have gone all out with their costumes, too. I see fantastical ball gowns in gleaming jewel tones, silk and velvet suits, top hats and veils and Victorian-style fascinators, and white porcelain masks all around. Charlie created brick walkways throughout the property and installed temporary lampposts decorated with potted geraniums, which give the party an old-world feel. The chilly evening breeze blows softly, scattering around the scent of the many flowers decorating the scene.
There are black and purple roses in large urns, and a Queen of Hearts garden similar to the one inAlice in Wonderland. It’s basically genius—black and white harlequin floor tiles lead to a row of white rose bushes and a table of small buckets of red paint with little brushes for guests to paint the roses.
We’re hoping the event will be successful enough to kick off another fabulous new tradition, whereby Bellanti Vineyards will be known for hosting an annual masquerade ball. And considering that the tickets were a few hundred dollars each, we really need to pull this off without a hitch. But I don’t think we’ll have any problems. It’s obvious that everyone’s having a fabulous time.
I make my way through the crowd, daintily holding the stick of my mask as I keep it pressed against my eyes. I’m wearing a lavish plum and burgundy taffeta gown with a plunging neckline and a low back. Frilly fronds of lace hang off the three-quarter-sleeves, while the hoops make my skirts bob and sway as I walk.
Browsing the crowd for Dante, I take my time greeting the guests and stopping to make small talk. He’d barely left my side all evening but then got pulled away by some associates he wanted to schmooze. I finally see the top of his dark head over the crowd and begin heading that way when there’s a sudden, delighted shout from behind me.
Just then, a thudding sound vibrates the ground. Everyone turns to scan the darkness of the vineyard as a huge black horse races toward the crowd. Its ghostly, apparently headless rider is dressed in white and holds a flaming torch high in the air. A grin splits my face.
Livvie canters a stalwart Ytse just close enough to the crowd to give them a delightful fright. She lets out a trilling yell as she passes by and then disappears into the shadows with the train of her white gown trailing behind her. There’s a collective breath, and then everyone claps.
