Page 34 of The Red Queen

He was showing her exactly how she could take advantage of him. She didn’t need to fall in love with the man.

In fact, he’d treated her carefully, with respect, and even a little affection. Maybe that was his plan. Show her a softer side in the hopes that she might yield to him.

Which she already was by marrying him, but that didn’t mean she would give up her independence. In fact, she saw marriage with the Italian Godfather as her ultimate ticket to freedom. He couldn’t keep his wife locked up forever. She just had to decide what she wanted to do with that freedom if she were to achieve it.

“Through here, Signora.”

Desi shook off her confused thoughts and focused on Vitto, who was showing her around the estate. They’d taken a tour of the house and were now about to enter the estate winery.

She stepped through the door, squinting into the gloom until she could focus. Beams of natural light filtered through windows set into stone walls. Like the main house, this building had an old-fashioned gothic feel to it. Dust molecules danced in the air as she walked toward the first row of barrels.

Desi wasn’t a wine connoisseur, though she liked the stuff. She preferred red wine over white, but she didn’t know the differences between regions and varieties.

“Good morning.” A woman stepped through a nearby door, wiping her hands on a rag before tossing the cloth over her shoulder.

She was beautiful with long dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, tan skin, and curves for miles. She was dressed in a pair of skin-tight jeans, heel-less knee boots, and a button up flannel shirt that was unbuttoned down to her cleavage. She wore no makeup or jewelry, and she gave off a naturally friendly vibe.

Desi hated her on sight.

The other woman was closer to Giovanni’s age than Desi was, maybe 50ish. Her natural beauty shone like a beacon and made Desi feel diminished in her designer clothes and makeup.

“Who are you?” Desi demanded.

The woman smiled and offered her hand. “Donada Laliberte. Head vintner for the Savino estate.”

Desi took the woman’s hand and squeezed it hard enough to cause some discomfort but not hard enough to hurt. “Desiree….” She hesitated, then used her birth name. “Amada.” It seemed there was no point in hiding it and she was loath to use the name Garza, now synonymous with a fallen cartel. “Soon-to-be mistress of this place.”

Donada’s smile remained firmly in place, and she slipped her hand from Desi’s. “This is exciting news that the master is soon to be married. He’s been alone for too many years.”

Desi didn’t like Donada’s familiarity with Giovanni.

“You know the master well?” she asked, an edge to her tone.

Donada shrugged. “As well as anyone else on the estate, I suppose. I have been here for many years.”

“Where do you come from originally?” Desi asked sharply. “Your accent isn’t Italian.”

“Marseille, France. Come, sit down.” Donada led Desi further into the building, then out another door. Desi was surprised to find herself in a small, but gorgeous courtyard. Vines crawled up the stone walls surrounding the space, while tiny white jasmine flowers clung to the vines, perfuming the air in an intoxicating scent. Donada waved Desi to a table with two chairs. “Join me for my daily tasting.”

“Daily tasting?” Desi was thrown off by the other woman. Where Desi was being rude, Donada was pushing so much friendliness at her, she didn’t know what to do. Did the woman not get that they were to be enemies? Nature declared it so. In Mexico, on the Garza compound, Desi had ruled the roost. Women came and went, but they were whores. No woman of consequence had stepped foot in the place until Elvira Sotza had arrived. The woman had not been a rival, though, as she was firmly under the power of the Venezuelan cartel boss, Isaac Sotza.

“Si, yes, I must taste daily, so I will know when the barrels are ready for bottling. It’s a delicate but enjoyable process.”

Desi snorted. “Sounds like a reason to get day drunk to me.”

“Perhaps,” Donada said with a smile, placing a carafe and two glasses on the table.

Desi eyed them. “You drink in the morning?”

“Si, every day. Only a glass to start, then another in the evenings with my meal.”

Donada had a healthy glow to her and a vitality that Desi envied. Perhaps she should drink more wine.

Donada poured a small amount into each glass, then looked at Desi expectantly.

Desi crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not drinking until you drink.”

“Ah, I see,” Donada said with a laugh. “Sometimes I forget who I work for.”

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