Page 58 of Taken Away

“No.”

“Liar.”

The rest of the group clustered near the mahogany bar. Savannah talked with a sommelier from Atlanta, while Zack lounged by a column with a drink in hand.

And Vanessa was there. Aubrey noticed her immediately.

Tall. Dark hair. Elegant without trying. Vanessa wore a black silk blouse tucked into tailored cream trousers, her dark hair pinned into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck. A glass of red wine rested loosely in her hand. She fit here. So did Bennett.

“Ben,” Vanessa said when she spotted them, her eyes flicking briefly from him to Aubrey and back again with a practiced, razor-sharp assessment. “Nice entrance.”

"Vanessa," Bennett said. "You're early."

"I'm always early when good wine is involved."

Aubrey straightened instinctively, her spine locking into place.

“Vanessa Mercer.” She extended her hand smoothly.

The handshake was warm. Aubrey smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Beside them, Bennett muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Jesus Christ.”

A second later, Zack appeared, carrying a glass of the reserve and looking entirely too entertained by the undercurrents. “There she is,” he announced cheerfully. “Blackwood’s mysterious heiress.”

Savannah looked up from a seating chart near the host stand. “And there’s our final disaster for the evening.”

“Rude,” Zack replied.

“Accurate,” Bennett said.

Before the conversation could settle, Eleanor Harper and Reid appeared from the foyer.

“Well,” Eleanor said dryly, her eyes raking over Aubrey’s green dress. “You look significantly less homicidal than you did at the will reading.”

“Progress,” Reid added. “I’m calling that a win.”

The dinner blurred into courses, candlelight, low jazz, and business.

“How many cases if we take the whole Tree of Life block this year?”

Vanessa handled the numbers without notes, talking logistics and shipping windows. Bennett leaned past her to answer a question from a buyer across the table, his hand settling briefly against the small of her back.

Aubrey told herself she didn’t care. Her pulse disagreed, ticking a chaotic rhythm against her ribs.

Zack, meanwhile, gave her the full Mercer experience from the seat beside her.

“So,” he said as dessert arrived, “on a scale from one to setting the tasting room on fire, how much do you regret coming down here?”

“Ask me after I survive a full week.”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll survive.” He tipped his bourbon toward Bennett. “He’s terrifying before his first coffee.”

“He’s terrifying after it too,” Aubrey replied primly.

Across the table, Bennett’s eyes snapped over at that. Vanessa noticed.

After dinner, the group drifted back out onto the patio. A small jazz trio played near the outdoor fireplace, and the mountains stretched out below.

Savannah mediated a debate between two sommeliers from Atlanta, while Zack stood beside the outdoor bar, charming everyone around him.