Page 50 of Empire of Seduction

But after pancakes and a good night’s sleep, I felt refortified. I was stronger than Vito could even imagine. He would not break me. And no one would take this land and this responsibility away from me without a fight.

This Carlo Leoni person? He didn’t know New York’s climate or the irrigation issues we faced. He wasn’t familiar with the mineral composition of the soil or the variation in the local insect population.

But I knew all those things.

So I wouldn’t hide and sulk today. Instead, I would support my vintner, my staff, and my family by showing up. Vito wouldn’t win this round.

Even if the image of him in glasses, a t-shirt and pajama bottoms was now burned into my brain.

“Your mouth, bella. It will get you into all kinds of trouble with me.”

I should hate him. Correction, Ididhate him. So why was I still attracted to him? It made no sense.

Hormones were the absolute worst.

Around noon, I went home to shower and change. I didn’t know how long this meeting with Carlo would take and I promised Mikey that I’d help with the party prep starting at four o’clock. So I threw on the black dress I wore for events, a short jacket, and heels. I slicked back my hair and put on concealer, mascara, and lip stain. Looking in the mirror, I conceded that I looked pretty damn professional.

At one I headed for the cellar. Bruce texted a few minutes ago that they were waiting for me, so I gathered my courage anddescended the steps. If this Carlo guy thought he would roll over me like Vito had, he was sorely mistaken.

I charged in, ready for battle.

Two men were already there—and neither of them were Vito. Mr. Mafia Boss must be running late. Or maybe I got lucky and he’d decided to skip this meeting.

I approached Bruce and the bald-headed man chatting at the tasting table. “Hi. I’m Maggie Fiorentino.”

Both men stood and I got my first look at Carlo Leoni.Oh.Wow, he was very handsome. And younger than I’d expected. He was maybe a little older than Vito, but not by much, and had smooth olive skin and the most startling blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. A neat, short beard, and a kind smile. He was dressed expensively, but not formally, which I appreciated.

Despite my annoyance at his presence here, I found myself smiling in return.

“Signorina Fiorentino.” Carlo put his hands on my arms and kissed each of my cheeks. He smelled good—not from an overpowering cologne or soap, but a hint of sandalwood. “It is nice to finally meet you,” he said with a light accent. “Signore D’Agostino has told me many wonderful things about you.”

I sincerely doubted that was true. “Welcome to Fiorentino Winery, Signore Leoni.”

“Call me Carlo, please. Let’s sit. I was chatting with Bruce and learning about your winery.”

Bruce gestured to me. “Maggie is probably the best person to give you the full history.”

“How much do you want to hear?” I lowered myself into the chair next to Carlo. “Because I could talk about this place for hours.”

The upstairs door clanged shut and I expected to see Vito’s long legs carry him down the steps. Instead, three members of the kitchen staff brought a few bottles of wine, glasses and acharcuterie board. I must’ve appeared confused because Bruce said, “Thought we might be here awhile and everyone should be comfortable.”

Oof. I should’ve thought of refreshments. If I weren’t so distracted and angry at Vito, I’m sure I would have. “Good idea, Bruce.”

There were four different wines to choose from and Carlo examined each bottle before setting on the Cayuga White. “I am curious about this one,” he said, pouring the wine into a glass. He gave it a generous swirl and held the glass to the light. Then he tasted it. “I like that. Nice tang of citrus on the tongue. Smooth finish.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said, pouring the same for both me and him. “It’s our most popular wine in the summer months, though the rosé is inching closer.”

“I can see why. Signorina, you were interrupted. Tell me everything.”

My animosity toward Carlo receded the more we talked. He was attentive, asked good questions, and didn’t turn his nose up at our wines. The charcuterie board was delicious. Best of all? Vito wasn’t around.

“When was your last soil survey?” Carlo asked me.

“My father had the last official soil test done six years ago.” I was embarrassed to admit it. Soil tests should be completed regularly, but they were expensive.

Carlo reached for a piece of bread and dipped it in the burrata and pesto mixture. “I would like to have one done as quickly as possible, if you have no objections, signorina.”

“Please, call me Maggie.” I popped a green olive into my mouth. “And I have no objections. As you may have heard, we’ve been tight on budget these last few years, which is why we always postponed doing one.”

---