The Seductive One

Page 33

Lorenzo shook his head. Was his mind to go next? He refused to become maudlin about his good fortunes. Despite his complaints, his doctor assured him he would probably see eighty and beyond. Plenty of time to annoy those he loved most.
A knock on the door to his office distracted him. Lorenzo glanced up. “Come,” he called.
The door opened and Joe entered.
Antonio, Lorenzo thought sadly. That was the name he had picked out for Marco’s firstborn son. There had been so many hopes and plans. So much that went wrong.
“You come to see me,” Lorenzo said, trying not to sound too pleased.
Joe crossed to the chair in front of the desk and pulled it out. He moved like a man used to trouble—carefully and with purpose. Lorenzo liked that. Joe was young and strong, all the things his heir should be.
“I’ve come to say good-bye,” Joe said as he took a seat. “I’ve reached my limit of family bonding.”
Lorenzo frowned. “You cannot go. Your life is here now. With the vines.”
Joe shook his head. “Not my style. I told you, I’m a beer drinker.”
“What about your inheritance? You could have all this.” He spread open his arms. “How can you walk away from what I have to give you?”
Joe chuckled. “Yeah, right. This isn’t a gift. Not any of it. If you were handing me a check, I’d give it some thought, but you want me to buy into what you have here. The whole Marcelli heritage. Sorry, but I’m not in the market for that kind of responsibility.”
“No. You must stay. I insist.”
“It’s not your call.” He leaned toward Lorenzo. “You’re playing some game with everyone, especially Brenna, and I won’t be a part of it.”
“What game? There is no game.” Lorenzo pushed painfully to his feet and walked to the far wall. He motioned for Joe to come with him. When they were standing next to each other, Lorenzo realized the younger man topped him by several inches. That pleased him. Every generation should be bigger, more powerful. It was the way of the world. Strength improved the family.
He pointed to the map on the wall. It was old, dating back to the 1920s, and drawn by hand. It detailed much of the county, oriented so the Marcelli land was in the center.
“From the old days,” he said. “My father, your great-grandfather, drew this himself. This is who we are.” He tapped the yellowing paper. “This is what is important to us.”
Joe studied the map. “Did he do this before the feud?”
“Yes. Many years before. Things were much simpler then.” Friends were friends, he thought. When friends became enemies, the world became a more difficult place.
Lorenzo looked at Joe. Marco’s son. His grandson. A stranger. All those years ago, he’d been so sure he was right. He’d stood against his wife, his son. He’d insisted. Tessa had warned him, but he hadn’t listened. The mistake was his.
“You will stay,” he insisted. “You are family.”
“No, I’m not,” Joe said quietly. “My family is my SEAL team. You folks have been nice and all. I appreciate the hospitality, but it’s time for me to head out.”
Lorenzo wanted to argue the point. He had plans for this young man. He would stay, learn, take the family name. Was it not to be?
He touched Joe’s arm. “It was me,” he told his grandson. “Your grandmother, she wanted to allow Marco to marry, even though he was only a boy. Her parents, they weren’t sure what they wanted, but I’m the one who convinced them. My son, your mother—” He shrugged. “They were in love. They wanted each other and they wanted you. I’m the one who made them send you away. I was wrong. I wanted you to know.”
Joe’s steady gaze never wavered. Lorenzo would have given half the Chardonnay harvest to know what the young man was thinking. But Joe was too wily. He kept his thoughts and feelings to himself.
“None of that matters now,” Joe said. “What’s done is done.”
Perhaps, but Lorenzo wanted to undo it. “If you had grown up here, you would have learned our ways. You would understand about the wine. It would be in your blood. It’s there now, singing to you, if only you will listen.”
“Maybe it would have made a difference,” Joe admitted. “Maybe not. We’ll never know. In the here and now, I’m not interested in the winery. I want you to be clear about that. I don’t want it.”
“Why not? The money—”
“Sure. Like there wouldn’t be strings attached to all of it. I don’t know what you’re up to, old man, but I’m not interested. You’ve tried to use me against Brenna. I don’t know why and I don’t want to know. If you don’t listen and decide to leave all this to me anyway, be warned. I’ll give it to Brenna.”
Lorenzo frowned. “Give it? Not sell it?”
Joe smiled. “No way, old man. I’m not going to be a pawn in whatever game you’re playing.”
Lorenzo raised his eyebrows. “Can you be so sure you haven’t already?”
Joe shook his head. “You’re a slick one, Grandpa. Be careful. If you take this too far, you’ll hurt the ones you love.”
Grandpa. Joe’s casual use of the word tugged at his heart. He held open his arms. His strong grandson stepped close and hugged him.
“You’re a good man,” he said, releasing Joe. “Come to see me again. I will show you that you’re wrong about us not being your family. You belong here.”
“We’ll see.”
Lorenzo reached up and cupped his face. “Your work. I know it is dangerous. Be careful. Now you have a family to come home to.”
Joe didn’t say anything, but Lorenzo thought he understood. They shook hands and the younger man left.
When he was alone, Lorenzo once again touched the map. He traced the outline of Marcelli Wines. Joe had accused him of playing a game. There was no game. But a plan? Ah, that was something different.
Brenna stood in the center of the vineyard and watched as the last of the Cabernet grapes were harvested by the awkward-looking machine being driven between the rows. The difference between her own small winery and this one could be measured in the number of days it took to bring in the grapes. Marcelli would produce over ten thousand cases. Hers would number in the hundreds.
But it was a start, she told herself, basking in a glow of pride. She’d done what she wanted and everything had gone well. Now she just had to wait for time and chemistry to produce magic.
She bent down and touched a denuded vine. The mechanical harvester was only used on the less-than-premium grapes. She hated how the machines stripped away too many leaves and left tire tracks on the hard earth. While she understood the financial necessity, she wished each cluster of fruit could be treated with gentle reverence.
“Okay. I’ve been out in the sun too long,” she murmured as she straightened and laughed. Having philosophical thoughts about grape picking couldn’t be good. Next she would be waxing poetic about each fallen leaf. The bright spot in her morning was that she’d managed to think about something other than Nic. Given their last very intimate encounter, that was something close to a miracle.
Nic. Just letting his name echo in her brain made her smile. She wasn’t clear on what exactly had happened or what it meant. Three days after the fact, she was still experiencing aftershocks. She had a suspicion it was illegal for sex to be that good.
Feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge or name fluttered through her. Something had happened that night when they’d finally talked about the past. Clearing the air had changed things between them. She wasn’t ready to deal with it, but in time she would have to. What happened after that was anyone’s guess.
“What are you so happy about?”
The voice came from directly behind her. Brenna jumped and screamed. When she spun around, she saw Joe standing less than three feet away.
“Don’t sneak up on me. What is it with the men around here. First Nic, then you.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”
“About Nic? Too late. The Grands told me all about you bringing one of the enemy to the engagement party. They were pretty shocked.”
“I’ll bet. Fortunately you showed up and offered a fine distraction. Did I ever thank you for that?”
“Just doing my job, ma’am. Speaking of which.” He glanced around at the vineyard. “I wanted you to know I’m heading out.”
“What?” She stared at him. “You’re leaving?”
“That’s the general idea. I need to get back to work. This has been a great vacation and all, but a guy can only take so much of the Marcelli clan.”
Leaving? “But you can’t,” she said, stunned. “If you go…You’re supposed to stay and inherit everything. What about the money?”
He shrugged. “Get real, Brenna. Lorenzo was just jerking both our chains with all that talk.”
“No. You’re wrong. He would gladly leave you everything.”
“What does that mean? He’d leave me the winery? Like I know what to do with that? You think I’d own Marcelli outright? No way. He’s a wily old coot. I guarantee you everything would be tied up so tight, I couldn’t get so much as a bottle of wine for myself. He offered the winery as a bribe to get me to stay and as a way to piss you off. I’m not sure why, but I think that was his plan. Judging from how you two go at each other, I’d say it was working.”
Brenna couldn’t breathe. The earth seemed to be moving beneath her feet, but she didn’t think it was because of an earthquake. Could Joe be right? Had her grandfather just been playing with them both?
“What did you tell him?” she demanded. “What did you say?”
“That I was wise to him. And if he tried to leave me everything, I’d just give it to you. He didn’t like that.”
“I’ll bet.”
Her brain wasn’t working. She couldn’t think straight. Was this really happening? Was Joe not a threat anymore?
She touched his arm. “Stay a little longer. Please.”
“Oh, sure, now that I’m not a threat, you want me around.”
“Hey, I wanted you around before.”
“I know.” He glanced around at the vineyard. “This has been great, but I don’t belong here. Not yet.”
“What does that mean? Will you come back? Is the family too much to deal with?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s understandable.” Lord knows they got to her and she was used to them. “Are you glad you came?”
His dark gaze settled on her face. “Absolutely.”
“I’m glad. I know my folks have been thrilled having you around. And my grandparents. I guess all of us.”
“Even you?”
“Especially me.”
“Good. You’re the one I worry about the most.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
She sighed. “I worry about you, too. You’re the one putting your life on the line.”
“I’m a pro. Don’t sweat it.”
She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you” seemed wildly inadequate after what he’d done.
“You could have had it all,” she said.
“Not even on a bet. Not with the old man’s rules. You’re the only one who can handle him.”
“I don’t do a very good job.”
“Joe! Joe!”
Brenna looked past her brother and saw Mia running toward them. Her baby sister crashed through a row of vines, making Brenna wince.
“Walk between the rows!” she yelled, but Mia ignored her.
She stumbled through another row of vines and came to a stop in front of Joe.