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An impressive stone archway in front of the door greets us as we exit the car. I take in the massive villa, or rather, estate, and laugh. Bren takes off his glasses and looks at me.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
I nod, my eyes still roaming the face of this mansion. “Bren, it’s just the two of us. This is ridiculous. We don’t need so much space.”
He turns me to him, breaking away my concentration from our surroundings. My hand is in his; I didn’t even notice him taking it when we got out of the car. Bren lifts my chin so he can look at me, amusement dancing in his irises. “Schatz, first, you deserve the world. Second, we won’t be able to explore much if we want to avoid paparazzi. And lastly, I wanted a place big enough to have a pool house so that Andreas can be both comfortable and out of our way.”
“Or out of earshot,” I mumble under my breath, and Bren laughs.
“Yeah. Out of earshot is a bonus. Now answer me. Do you like it?”
I glance at the expansive villa again, something straight out of a French country fairy tale encased in foliage and flowers. I take a deep satisfactory breath of the air that smells almost green—if green had a smell. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, Bren. It’s...it’s breathtaking.”
When Bren nods and lets go of my face, the double doors open, and out walks a short man in a suit. We walk toward the door, and he greets us with a broad smile halfway to the entrance.
“Mr. Reindhart, it is such an honor. Welcome to Maison Madrone.”
Bren tips his chin and shakes the man’s hand, introducing me as well.
“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” the man says. “Calvin Brown. I’m the estate manager—at your service.”
I move to reach out my hand for a shake, but Calvin takes a bow, and I wonder if I have stepped into some bizarre alternate reality. Is this how the other half lives? With peoplebowingto them?
“Would you like a tour of the estate?” Calvin asks.
“No, thank you. I’m sure Miss Ocampo here would rather explore on her own.”
“I would,” I say, reassuring Calvin with a smile. “But thank you.”
“Of course,” he says and bows again. I scratch my head. This is weird.
“Why don’t you show my security, Andreas, to the master bedroom so he can take our luggage. You can hand him keys and arrange any particulars with him.”
“Of course.” Calvin smiles, and Andreas trails him toward the side of the villa. I have to force a snort to die inside me at the realization that they’re using a separate entrance. Like, for the help.
“You’re not planning on carrying me in, are you?” I ask Bren, causing him to laugh.
“And be endlessly mocked by you?” he asks. “No, Sofia. I’m not carrying you in.”
Feeling giddy with a child-like excitement I’d long forgotten, I smack him playfully in the middle, catching him off-guard, and yell, “Race you in,” before dashing toward the door.
I’m barely across the threshold before Bren’s brawny arms catch my waist and pull me in, my back pressed against his chest. I wiggle, trying to break loose, and his grip grows tight around me. He lets go with one hand so he can tuck my hair behind my ear, and his lips touch the shell of my ear as he speaks slowly. “You didn’t play fair, Miss Ocampo. And you know what happens to someone who doesn’t play fair?” he teases.
I shake my head but don’t speak as I collect myself, brushing away the goosebumps that have sprouted down my arms.
“They get taught a lesson,” he says and chuckles sexily into my ear. Holy hell, Brenner Reindhart has game.
I spin around so I can face him, and he keeps his arms around me. “I think I’ll enjoy any punishment from you.”
Bren chuckles again, and I love how lighthearted and stress-free our trip has been so far. He’s been attentive and playful, not to mention hell-bent on making sure I have a good experience.
“Come on. Let’s explore together,” he says and slaps my ass gently, forcing me into action.
The dramatic foyer with an open-beamed ceiling and checkered stone flooring greets us first, taking my breath away. Massive French doors lead to a terrace revealing an expansive vista of the valley below.
Bren holds my hand as we go from room to room, my jaw nearly at the floor over the opulence. The extravagance is a bit irresponsible, but I won’t lie and say it isn’t also spectacular.
Luxury doesn’t begin to describe our private villa in Napa Valley.
