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“I hope so.” Grant looked around as Antonio pulled into the driveway. Vineyards stretched as far as the eye could see. “You’ve done so well for yourself here.”
“I have,” agreed Antonio with a smile. “You can, too, if you choose.”
“Maybe.” Grant would love to think he could build or buy just a small vineyard. It didn’t need to be a huge business, and it didn’t need to be next week or even next year, but one day, he’d love to own a place of his own. He’d love to continue his grandfather’s legacy—safe in the knowledge that he knew enough to run it well.
~ ~ ~
“Are you okay?” asked Piper.
Chelsea smiled at her. She’d grown to love her brother’s fiancée and couldn’t wait for the two of them to get married. “I’m fine, thanks. If I look terrible, it’s because I had a bit of a late night, that’s all.” They were in the kitchen at Cam and Piper’s place. Chelsea was helping her bring everything out to the deck where they were going to eat, while Mary Ellen and Cameron talked work outside.
“No, you look great.” Piper looked over her shoulder. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I heard your dad talking about this consultant he’s bringing in. I know no one else knew about it—not even Cam. I’ve been worried about you but didn’t feel it was my place to tell you. Now you do know about it, I just want to tell you that I’m here for you, if you want to talk.”
Chelsea smiled. “Thanks, Piper. I might just take you up on that. I can’t really talk to Cam or Mary El about it; it’s not fair to them, but I might come and bend your ear if it all gets to be too much. I’ll know more tomorrow when I meet the guy—assuming it is a guy. You know, till I said that, I had been assuming it’s a guy. Now I don’t know if it will be better or worse if it’s a woman. Whoever it is, I just want to tell them to go shove it.”
Cameron came into the kitchen and gave her a puzzled look. “Who needs to shove it?”
“Never you mind.” She didn’t want to get into that whole thing with him now. She didn’t want to ruin the afternoon. They were all supposed to be having fun. She was supposed to be taking her mind off it. And besides, she had a feeling that after today, they wouldn’t be talking much about anything else until this whole consultant invading her business episode blew over—or blew up in her face!
Chapter Five
Grant slung his towel over his shoulder. He’d spent the last hour in the hotel gym. A quick glance at his watch told him he could finally go and get ready and head over to the Hamilton estate. He’d been awake far too early this morning, running through the options for Zosca, making sure his proposals weren’t missing anything. He sighed. He’d also been running through the memories of Saturday night with Chelsea. A cold shower had helped a little, but he’d needed to come down here and work off his frustration. How could he still be horny for a woman he knew he was never going to see again? And why was he thinking about her again? He made his way back to the elevator. He’d go shower, get ready, and go. He’d still be a little early, but he liked to show up early and get the feel of a place—experience the atmosphere before he started work.
The elevator dinged, and he smiled through pursed lips at the effect it had on his body. His cock sprang to life like some horny Pavlovian dog at the memory of his elevator ride with Chelsea. He needed to get a grip. He hurried back to his room and took another cold shower, forcing his mind to stay focused on the plan he’d be laying out for Mr. Hamilton in less than an hour.
~ ~ ~
Chelsea stood in her closet looking around at her options. If this was her dressing-up box, she needed to find the perfect costume to see her through today. She needed all the help she could get. She pulled at the hem of a frilly white dress. No. Much as she’d like to, she couldn’t dress up as a good fairy who could cast a spell to make everything okay. What she needed was to look the part—like she knew what she was doing. She blew out a sigh of frustration. She did know what she was doing. She was running the place exactly as she wanted to. The trouble was, she wasn’t running the place exactly as her father wanted her to. He didn’t trust her. She bit her lip. Was that true? Did he think she wasn’t capable of running Zosca well? She didn’t think that was it. He did trust her. He didn’t think she was stupid, just misguided. She smiled as realization dawned. The only problem he had with the way she was running the business was that she wasn’t running it the way he would.
She rifled through the hangers until she reached her business suits. This was more like it. She dug out a very stiff and formal looking pinstripe jacket and a crisp, white shirt. She imagined it was something like a banker would wear. She had pants that went with it, but no. She smiled when she found the skirt. It, too, went with the jacket, but where the suit with pants said staid, boring banker lady, the suit with the skirt screamed kickass banker bitch. Whatever she wore would have no effect on her dad. She knew that much, but she hoped it’d send a message to this consultant person that she wasn’t going to just roll over and do as she was told.
When she was ready, she looked herself over in the mirror and smiled. She looked the part. She was going to play the part. The words echoed in her head, reminding her of the way she’d looked and the part she’d played on Saturday night. She’d played the girl who went out and hooked up and said goodbye in the morning—and man, had she enjoyed it. Well, all except the goodbye part. She shook her head; she couldn’t let her mind go there right now. She needed to feel confident in her decisions, needed to have the courage of her convictions, not start second guessing herself—about anything. She picked up her car keys and looked around the cottage. Was she forgetting anything? No. It was time to go and face the music.
She started the car and let it idle for a few minutes. What was her bottom line? Her dad had taught her a lot about business, and one of the things he’d taught her was to go into any negotiation knowing what she wanted, what she could live with, and what she couldn’t accept. What she wanted was to be left to run the company her way. Her inner rebel screamed that she could not, would not live with interference from an outsider, but she hushed that voice. What would be the best compromise? She didn’t know. She couldn’t know yet, not until she heard what her dad and his consultant wanted. If they wanted her to change everything, if they wanted her to put profit before her people, if they wanted her to put efficient production before the quality of her wines … she didn’t know that she could compromise on that. She stared through the windshield at the rolling hills, the familiar vineyards where she’d spent her childhood—and most of her time ever since. She was a winemaker. It wasn’t just what she did. It was who she was. She couldn’t become someone else. If they wanted her to change everything, she’d walk away. She could buy her own vineyard, make her own name and her own wines. She nodded. Maybe it was time anyway. Maybe her father would let her buy Zosca. Then he wouldn’t interfere any more.
She sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. She needed to get going, orshe’d be late. That wasn’t the best way to start. She wanted to show herself as a professional, not just the daughter who couldn’t even make a meeting on time. She put the car in gear and set out for the offices. It wasn’t like she had far to go. Her cottage stood on the very edge of the family estate. She smiled to herself. If she bought Zosca, she’d have to see about buying the cottage and the land it stood on, too. Maybe it was time to do that anyway.
~ ~ ~
Grant sat in the reception area. He’d wanted to get a sense of the atmosphere around here, and he liked it. The place was buzzing. People walked quickly, purposefully, and they smiled a lot. This wasn’t a true reflection of what he was coming into, though. This was the main Hamilton-Groves headquarters. He was meeting with Mr. Hamilton and the head of Zosca here, but later they’d go over to the Zosca offices. He was assuming that Mr. Hamilton would leave them to it at that point, but he didn’t know yet how it would all play out.
He looked up as a tall, broad-shouldered, sandy haired guy came toward him with a friendly smile. He got to his feet as the guy offered his hand. “I’m Cameron Hamilton. You must be Grant Dawson?”
Grant nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too. My father asked me to let you know that he’s running a couple of minutes late. Can we get you a coffee or anything?”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
“Since you have a few minutes to spare, how would you feel about getting a little outside input before you get started?”
Grant raised an eyebrow, wondering what kind of input he was talking about.
Cameron smiled a very genuine smile, and Grant relaxed, feeling like he’d just made a friend. “I mean, do you want to come and have that coffee in my office? I’m not going to be any part of what you’re here to do. Zosca is outside of my remit. I have no stake and no say.” He smiled again. “At least not in a business sense. However, I think you need to know what you’re going into. See, I do have an interest and can share some insight in a family sense.”
Grant gave him a puzzled look.
“Since you’re basically going to be refereeing between my father and my sister.”
