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20
Daniela
Iwrap my shawl tighter around me as he pours us more wine.
What about the house I grew up in?Up until now, I haven’t had the courage to ask. David, the vineyard manager, emailed weekly updates about the property while I was in the US. But I suppose those were all lies too. My stomach twists painfully.
I still don’t quite have the courage to ask about the house, but I have so many other questions.
“The employees at Quinta Rosa do Vale—what happened to them?”
“Anyone who was willing to stand in front of me and sign an NDA was welcome to stay.”
A nondisclosure agreement—how civilized. Although I’m sure it’s not the contract that keeps the employees in line. But having to sign it in front of this man must have put the fear of God into them.
My shoulders tighten at the thought of what he put the employees through. Good people. Honest and loyal. He didn’t have to treat them like they were criminals.
“Do they know you own the property?”
He shakes his head. “Only David. The others know I have an interest in the property. Your father and I met many times at his office in the vineyards. We walked the grounds often, and he introduced me to many of the workers. Everyone assumes I have not only a personal interest in seeing your father’s vineyards thrive, but as the current president of the Douro Port Wine Foundation, I have a professional interest as well.” He glances at me. “Their assumptions are correct. Whether or not I own the vines is beside the point.”
They met at the vineyards.My father kept an office there that he went to every day he was well.
I’m not surprised he didn’t destroy the vineyards, but what about the house?I take a sip of wine, letting the alcohol warm my throat.Ask him. I’m not ready.
“Did you sell my horses?”
“Atlas and Zeus have been well cared for. The stable manager stayed on.”
A small sigh of relief escapes into the room. I didn’t think he’d destroy the horses, but this is a man capable of terrible things.
“After we’re married, you’ll have an opportunity to see them.”
The news about the horses gives me hope and a shot of courage.
“My parents’ house—is it still standing?”
When he doesn’t meet my eyes, my stomach clenches. I’m sure the house is gone, with everything in it. If he had no use for his childhood home, he certainly had no use for mine.
After several long, excruciating seconds, he responds. “It’s still standing. At some point, Cristiano will take you there so you can see for yourself.”
My body unclenches, one muscle at a time. It’s almost too good to be true.
I walked away, and I was prepared to sell the house, but it gutted me to do it. The sense of relief is overwhelming.
“You would let me visit the house?” The swing from low to high feels almost euphoric, and before I can catch myself, I blurt out the question like a child might.
Antonio leans across the table and traces the contour of my face with his fingertips. “There’s very little I’m not prepared to give you,Princesa, if you can be trusted.”
With my skin burning from his touch, he lowers his hand and pulls a piece of crust from the bread. “If we’re going to go through with the marriage, and we are,” he says, glancing at me warily, “I want you by my side. I’m not interested in a pet to keep locked in a cage—unless you force my hand. Then you’ll get what you deserve.”
He dips the corner of the bread into the rich sauce on his plate. “But I want more than that,” he adds, so softly I’m not sure I heard correctly.
For a moment, I see something human in Antonio. Not vulnerable. Not soft. But unmistakably human.
“When will the marriage take place?” I ask, to remind myself that despite flashes of humanity, he’s still a bad man.
“I haven’t chosen a date, but I expect we’ll be married within a month.”
