Page 81 of Snowbound with the Vineyard Owner
"I didn’t know sex could be like that."
"Sex is our only real playground."
"If that’s so, then I want to spend all my time in your playground." I curl into him, firelight warming us both. My palm on his chest, his heartbeat steadyand sure. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel completely present, entirely at peace. "Thank you," I whisper, not quite able to articulate everything I'm grateful for—the experience, the insight, the gift of temporary surrender.
His smile brushes my temple.
"Anytime, Elena. Anytime."
As evening approaches, we gather the scattered papers, smiling at the crumpling of certain documents. Over dinner, the conversation inevitably turns to what comes next, for the business relationship and whatever is developing between us.
"You could stay," Dominic says finally, the casual delivery belied by the tension in his shoulders. "Not just a few more days. Longer term."
"Stay?" My heart stutters.
"To consult on the expansion plans. The experimental program." He sets down his fork, meeting my eyes directly. "See if what we've started here might be sustainable beyond a snowstorm and business negotiations."
The offer takes my breath away—not because it's unexpected, but because it articulates exactly what I've been afraid to want. Before I can formulate a response, my phone chimes with an incoming email. I would ignore it, but Dominic nods toward it.
"Go ahead. It might be important."
The message is from Catherine Halsey, the senior female partner I mentioned to Dominic during our strategy session about Davis's plagiarism. The subject line makes my stomach drop: "Concerning Your Position and Recent Developments."
I open it with trepidation, scanning quickly before reading aloud:
"Ms. Santiago, Concerning recent developments with our wine program and your extended absence, the ownership group has reviewed your contributions and Davis's recent presentation. While we value your expertise, we have concerns about teamdynamics and your apparent prioritization of external relationships over company needs.
"We are prepared to offer you a renegotiated position focusing exclusively on wine acquisition and education, removing management responsibilities which would remain with Davis as Partner. Please advise when you plan to return so we can discuss this transition in person."
The message lands like a stone between us, its implications crystallizing the choice before me with brutal clarity. I can return to San Francisco to a diminished role, my authority undercut by Davis's machinations. Or I can stay here, exploring this unexpected connection with Dominic and the professional possibilities it presents—walking away from the career I've spent years building.
"A compromise position," I say flatly. "All of the work, none of the recognition or authority."
"What are you thinking?" Dominic's expression is carefully neutral, though I can see the tension in his jaw.
"I'm thinking this shouldn't be such a difficult decision," I admit. "Professionally speaking, it's insulting. They're offering me a demotion disguised as a specialized role."
"And non-professionally speaking?"
I meet his gaze across the table, allowing myself to acknowledge the truth I've been avoiding.
"Non-professionally, I'm terrified by how tempted I am to walk away from everything I've worked for because of what's happening between us. It's been less than a week, Dominic. That's not a rational basis for considering life-changing decisions."
"No," he agrees softly. "It's not rational at all."
The understanding in his voice nearly undoes me. He recognizes the weight of what he's asking—and what I'd be giving up.
"I needtime to think," I say finally.
He nods, reaching across the table to take my hand. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
And therein lies both the comfort and the challenge. Dominic is rooted here, committed to this place and his vision. If I want to explore what we might become together, it will require compromise, and most of that compromise would need to come from me.
We clear the dishes together, moving around the kitchen in that effortless synchronicity we've developed. I’m torn between conflicting desires. The professional ambition that has driven me for years pulls me back to San Francisco, urging me to fight for the recognition I deserve. Yet something newer, deeper, tugs me toward this mountain, this man, this unexpected future neither of us planned.
For the first time, I don't have a clear path forward.
Chapter 21
