“Yes. But yours definitely has an edge. It’s easier to swallow, smoother…”
“The grapes that we make it from are native to the San Gimignano region. Just the perfect exposure to sunshine to give them the right ripeness.”
“Oh, wow, that’s quite impressive.”
“Of course, the main ingredient that sets us apart from the competition is love,” he says as though he’s delivering a sale-pitch. “Our vineyard has been in our family’s hands since inception, and we take great care in ensuring our product is not lacking in any way.”
I smile at his enthusiasm. “From the way you describe it, I can already imagine how meticulous the process must be—”
“I see the two of you have met.”
As I turn to look at who it is, my breath hitches in my throat.
Enzo has made a reappearance. His gaze darts between me and Valentino.
Valentino shoots a look in Enzo’s direction whose meaning I can’t exactly place.
I wonder if there’s any friendly competition between the two brothers.
“I was just telling her about our process,” Valentino explains. “She compared our product to the Portuguese Oporto wine.”
Enzo turns to face me. “Ah, yes, great wine. But I always say, you don’t need to go further than Italy to try the best.”
“I think we could even give her a private tour, given her interest. What do you think, father?”
Father?
Valentino is Enzo’s son? That explains the resemblance, but I’d been so sure that they were siblings.
“I see no problem with that,” Enzo replies, but I have trouble focusing suddenly.
The fact that Enzo has a son who might just be my age is making my head spin.
“Quinn?” Valentino’s voice brings me back to the present moment.
“I… Um, sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
The corners of Enzo’s mouth curl upwards in an amused smirk. He’s a smart guy, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s caught on exactly why I am floundering.
“I was asking you if you’d like to go on the tour now.” Valentino looks down at his watch. “I can quickly show you around. It’s also a good opportunity to shoot some content on the makings of it, if you’d like.”
“I… yes, of course.” It would also be a good chance to get away from Enzo.
Now that I know that he has a son my age, I have all the more reason to keep away from him at all costs.
I steal a glance over at Enzo, who seems to be observing the two of us. I notice that he’s changed out of the clothes he was wearing before. He’s in a suit now.
The sight of him alone brings out wild thoughts. His shirt perfectly hugs his toned torso.
My face heating, I look away.
“Perfect, let’s get going, then…”
We don’t make it too far before we are stopped.
“Mr. Valentino, may I please have a private word with you and your father?”
4