by Debra Dunbar
“Maybe your grandmother won’t be as angry as you think.” I completely understood the whole “our families hate each other” thing, but this wasn’t Romeo and Juliet. This was the twenty-first century. Kids dated people that parents weren’t exactly thrilled about all the time, and no one got killed. Maybe she was wrong about Guido being murdered. And even if she was right, I couldn’t imagine that either family would stoop to killing teenagers, to killing children.
“I don’t know.” Bianca sighed. “Sergio wants us to elope, but we cannot run away. He will inherit their family fortunes as will I. Neither of us can be far from what will be our treasure. We have responsibilities. We have ties that keep us here and keep us connected to our families. There is no way we can run away together.”
“But you’re both eighteen, aren’t you?” I waited for her nod. “Outside of you having Villa Montenegro, there is no immediate inheritance for you to manage. Even if Sergio’s grandfather passes away, his mother is young and in good health. I’m assuming the same is true with your grandmother. Neither of you will be inheriting these responsibilities for decades. You could elope, or at the very least run off and spend some time seeing if this romance is really something worth rocking your family feud for, and be back in plenty of time to learn how to run the family businesses.”
“Even if we could manage to be apart from our treasures, they will find us,” she said with sorrow. “We won’t be able to hide. Where would we go? How would we take care of ourselves? I’ve only lived at home, with my family to support me, and so has Sergio.”
“But doesn’t your recent inheritance solve those problems? I mean, except for Sergio’s and your entailment, or whatever. You could sell Villa Montenegro and elope with Sergio. With the money from the sale, you could both live comfortably until you finished your education and got your careers off the ground.”
She caught her breath. “I cannot sell Villa Montenegro. Ever. I love it. I have bonded with it. It is my treasure and I will not willingly hand it over to another until the day I die.”
Holy shit, the drama.
“Okay, I get it. Keep the villa and manage it from afar. Maybe lease it out or something. And maybe you and Sergio can abdicate your larger inheritances in favor of a cousin.”
She frowned and typed the word into her phone, paling when she saw the translation. “Oh, that cannot happen. The Sommariva treasures are his when his grandfather and mother pass away. He has already bonded with them. He would never be able to leave them for long. So you see, even though he wants to elope, we both know that we would need to return within a year at most. And then there would be blood and death.”
Again with the blood and death. And these two families had an unhealthy attachment to things.
“Is there a distant relative, a family friend, any kind of friend that you can confide in who can help? Someone who could help smooth things over between your grandmother and Sergio’s mom?”
She shook her head slowly, then her eyes lit up. “You!”
Oh no. Not me. “Uh, I’m an American. And I just met you. And I’m thinking helping the two of you to run away might be illegal, like aiding and abetting or something. There has to be someone else.”
“There is no one else.” Her eyes filled with tears. “And we are in love!” she wailed. So much for being quiet so the others didn’t hear.
I took a deep breath, wondering how much of the last lecture of the day I’d just missed. “Okay, let me think about things. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. In the meantime, don’t do anything crazy.”
She threw herself into my arms. “Thank you, Amber. Thank you.”
I sighed, hugging her back and wondering how the heck I was going to help her and Sergio. Because I had to help them. Two warring families. Two young people in love. It was just like Romeo and Juliet.
Except I hoped this story didn’t end in tragedy.
Chapter 11
I plopped the eighty pounds of binders onto the coffee table and slid myself into a chair, resting my head on the cushion and wondering if I could possibly squeeze in a nap. I was beat. The drive. The info-dump at the seminar. The emotion-laden talk with Bianca. The drive back, which wasn’t any easier than the drive there.
The sun was dipping low on the horizon. I hadn’t eaten supper. And I hadn’t satisfied my succubus needs in three days because I’d been too busy the day of our flight, then I’d wanted that first night alone with Irix, then it seemed weird to go have sex with other men right after I’d gotten engaged. But I couldn’t keep sponging off Irix. I needed to go out and get laid. Although this sofa was very comfortable, and I wasn’t looking forward to the early morning drive tomorrow as it was.
Maybe I could just stick a sign on the door that said “come in and fuck me—no charge”. I could just lay here on the sofa. Except I didn’t think a nearly passed-out partner would gain me much in the way of siphoned sexual energy. There were very few guys with that kind of kink, but I wasn’t sure those were the kind of guys I wanted to be having sex with anyway.
With a groan I got to my feet and staggered up the stairs, hoping a shower and maybe a pot of coffee would revive me. I was wrapped in a towel in front of the closet, trying to decide what to wear when Irix came in.
The guy practically crackled with energy.
“Whoa. Someone had a good day,” I teased.
“I hung out at a hotel a few towns over for breakfast and managed to get three tourists between seven and noon, then a shopkeeper on her lunch break, then a guy who runs a boat taxi service, then a tour guide.” Irix grinned. “This place is amazing. I swear you can just walk down the street, crook your finger, and be naked in a bed five minutes later.”
“I hope it’s that easy, because I’m exhausted.” I yanked a tank top and a pair of jeans out of the closet, deciding that I was just going casual tonight. “Quick light dinner with me? Then I’ll probably find a bar somewhere.”
Then I’d dash back here to the villa and desperately try to study all this biochemistry stuff so I didn’t fall even farther behind tomorrow. Of course that would leave me with about four hours of sleep before I needed to get up and face the rush-hour traffic once more.
“Just screw the waiter.” Irix wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek. “Or stay here. I’ll order in from the café. You can eat in bed, get to sleep early, and be refreshed for tomorrow.”
I looked that tired. Even Irix could tell, although he was more perceptive than most. “I can’t. I need to find at least one sexual partner tonight. I didn’t have time this morning. The commute is insane, and I’m half afraid to have sex with any of the attendees. Not that I have time to do that. Or that I’d even be able to work up any kind of pheromones. After listening to the chemical structure of wines for five hours, I don’t think any of the guys there could get it up anyway, half-succubus or not.”
“You’d be surprised. I’m sure any guy who is at that seminar is probably turned on by the chemical structure of wine. And they’ve most likely been eyeing you all day. You’ll need to do a couple of them before you leave, just to make them happy.”
“Maybe on the last day. Where should I go tonight? You’ve spent the day checking everything out. Where’s a spot where I can find a sexual partner with the least amount of time and effort? Someone who wants a quickie in the elevator, so I can get it done, study, and get to sleep at a decent hour.”
He flicked my nose. “With that attitude it’s going to take you all night. Normally, I’d be scolding you and telling you to get out there, but I know how hard you’ve been working today. Plus, this is kind of my fault. I’m the one who wanted us to stay in Lake Como. I didn’t realize it was quite so long of a commute for you.”
I leaned against him. “How about we do that waterfront restaurant in Cadenabbia, scoot down the street to a bar, and I’ll find someone there? Once I get some food in me, I’m sure I’ll be in a better mood to be picking up men. Although I need to warn you that I’ll be bringing flash cards
to study during dinner.”
He hugged me close. “Then study. We’ll order a couple of different wines for you to analyze during dinner. And I’m sure you can find someone for quick sex. If I can manage three tourists before lunchtime, you should be able to find one of them who wants to do it behind the counter of the gelato shop, or on the rooftop terrace of the hotel. Just one, so you can get some sleep tonight. I’ll share my energy with you to make up the difference. I’ve got plenty to spare.”
“I feel guilty when you do that,” I complained. Actually I loved it when I shared his energy—loved the feeling of closeness and caring I got when Irix poured it all into me. But I wasn’t a child, and I needed to take care of my basic needs on my own and not be relying on him all the time.
“Tomorrow night you can pick three or four guys up. Just find one tonight so you don’t feel like a mooch, and I’ll do the rest.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
I grabbed the notecards out of my binder and we walked, hand-in-hand, along the lakefront path through Menaggio and into Cadenabbia. Villa Sommariva was only another ten minutes to the south, but we’d halted just past a plaza, in an area with hotels and everything a tourist could want, along with bars, dining, and shops selling silk scarves next to Lake Como refrigerator magnets.
Irix led me down to a little place overlooking the lake and the mountains in the distance. It was sandwiched between the road and an amazing floating pool. The breeze coming off the water was lovely, and the soft lighting and guitar music gave it an intimate ambiance.
I spread out my notecards, and asked Irix to quiz me as the food came out. Everything we were served was on a stick aside from a few bowls of couscous, pickled vegetables, and chilled salads that were family-style on our long table. I ate lamb, chicken, beef, sausage, and enormous shrimp, all slid from a lethal-looking metal skewer onto my plate. And just when I felt I could eat no more, the staff came by with grilled pineapple—also on a stick.
“Here.” Irix moved his glass of wine over to me. I’d already sampled three and was feeling pretty buzzed right now, but the more practice I got at detecting these components and describing them appropriately, the better I’d do on these exams.
I swirled it around the glass and eyed the color, tilting it and holding it up to better see it. The lighting in here was romantic, but not the best for detecting subtle color differences in wine, even with my elven vision.
“Red, but it’s more mahogany than ruby. It’s got some brown notes, so it’s either aged more than a few years, or oxidized.” I closed my eyes and remembered the talk earlier today about anthocyanins found in the skin of grapes, about how they were water soluble pigments that reacted with the tannins in wine and faded over time. So this was an older wine, maybe ten years or so I was guessing. That, or it had a shitty cork and air had gotten in the bottle. Only taste would tell.
But first, I gave it another swirl, noting the way it streaked down the side of the glass and making an educated guess about residual sugar. Then I shoved my nose into the top of the glass and inhaled.
“Spicy. Black pepper. Cloves. Dark cherries. Oak…no, more like charred oak. Vanilla.”
Irix sat across from me, completely stoic, not revealing a thing. I sipped the wine, swishing it around, then swallowing it because spitting out wine in the middle of a restaurant was a sin, no matter how tipsy I was getting.
“Smooth, soft, almost buttery mouthfeel. Dry. Peppery bite, with cherry and vanilla, and a smoky aftertaste.” I pursed my lips and threw a Hail Mary. “2007 Sonoma Coast California Pinot Noir.”
I could tell by Irix’s expression that I was wrong, but the presence of a young man at our table forestalled his correction.
“Irix and Amber!”
I looked up and saw Sergio smiling down at us. The smile was nervous, the look in his eyes a bit apprehensive. Ah. He’d spoken to Bianca and she’d told him of our conversation. And now he’d hunted us down to make sure we didn’t spill the beans and let everyone know about their illicit relationship. He needn’t have worried. I’d been so busy worrying about flavonols and esters that I hadn’t even told Irix yet.
Irix greeted him warmly, standing and shaking his hand, then inviting him to sit. He did, after bending over to kiss my cheek. Then his eyes landed on my left hand.
“Bianca was telling me about your ring. It really is beautiful. I was planning on getting her a diamond, but I think I’ll look at rubies.”
I beamed, admiring my ring once more. He and Bianca were eighteen—far too young to be thinking of engagement rings, but I wasn’t going to be the grumpy twenty-two-year-old that flattened his dream.
And it was the perfect opening to address a topic that I knew was on his mind.
“I spoke with her today and the castle and she told me of the challenges you both face. I’m sorry.”
His expression darkened. “My mother would never approve, and neither would her grandmother. I know our love is doomed, but I can’t imagine my life without her. I’d sooner die. I’d rather leave every bit of treasure behind and live with the pain of losing it all than suffer the worse pain of losing her.”
Irix quickly caught up with the conversation. “Maybe in time, both of your families will come to accept your love for each other?”
I read between the words. Either the families would eventually accept it, or in time their love would fade and they’d both find other people to love—people who were probably more acceptable to their families.
Sergio shook his head, his smile sad. “I doubt it. Our families have been at war with each other for a thousand years, since before we owned Villa Sommariva, before the first stones on the tower that was to become Castle Abbondio were even laid. A feud that long-standing doesn’t end one day just because two young people are in love.”
“I told Bianca I’d think of something, that I’d try to help you both if I could,” I told Sergio with an apologetic glance to Irix.
“The only solution I can think of is for us to run away, but now that Bianca has inherited Villa Montenegro, I’m not sure if she can. It’s one thing to withstand the pain of leaving a treasure that has been promised to you, but another entirely to bear the agony of leaving a treasure you have actually held in your hands. If Guido had not died, I’m sure Bianca and I would be on our way to Paris right now. But as it is…”
It seemed the only solution left was to somehow convince the adults of both these families that a young romance wasn’t something to go to war over. Easier said than done.
“Let me know if you think of anything I can do to help,” I told him.
“Me as well,” Irix added. He gestured toward one of the seats. “Join us. Amber is tasting different wines and trying to determine what they are.”
“Very unsuccessfully,” I told Sergio. “Obviously I got this one here very, very wrong.”
“I can’t tonight, but maybe I’ll join you another evening.” Sergio reached over to pick up the glass of wine swirling it around in the light then drinking it down.
“Very nice. 2006 Bordeaux region Cabernet Sauvignon.” Then with a smile and a bow, he headed off while I stared at his retreating back.
“He’s right. It was a 2006 Bordeaux region Cabernet Sauvignon,” Irix told me.
Damn it all. I was so going to fail this test.
Chapter 12
I made it to Bergamo early the next day, which meant I had some time to chat with the other attendees as well as get pointers and tips from the presenters. Two of them were going to be the ones testing us and judging our submissions. They would be there each day, helping quiz us and in the wine-tasting segments that were starting this afternoon. There were other guest presenters who would only be there for their portion of the classes, then head back home.
One of them was the guy from yesterday—Leo Something Unpronounceable from a winery in Germany. He’d given that insanely complex speech with all the chemistry stuff as well as one about vineyards in the Rhine, and was back today to di
scuss the qualities that made German wines distinctive and how to recognize those in both the grape and the glass. He was in his early fifties. He was cute in a nerdy, wine-geek kinda way. And he couldn’t keep his eyes off of me.
Should I? He didn’t appear to be married. He wasn’t too old or too young. He didn’t wear socks with sandals, at least he hadn’t in the last two days that I’d known him. I’d picked up a British tourist after Irix’s and my dinner last night, but beyond that, I hadn’t had sex with anyone but Irix since we’d arrived in Italy. Even with the energy he was sharing with me, I was starting to feel that gnawing need. That first night had been special—our first evening in Lake Como. The second night…well, we’d just gotten engaged and I wanted some one-on-one time with Irix. Last night I was exhausted and only had time for one. And I was discovering that one really wasn’t enough—especially if I wasn’t going to tie my sexual partners to me in any great degree.
A light tie meant they could love others, that they wouldn’t be driven mad obsessing about me and the one night we shared together, but it also meant less energy over the long term. I was willing to make that trade-off, but it meant I’d need to not skip two or three nights in a row like I’d done. I wouldn’t die, but as Irix had said, if I needed to do something requiring a lot of energy, like save a bayou or a pineapple farm, or feed a small town in Hel, then I was going to drain myself to death.
I couldn’t keep relying on Irix to help me. I needed to take care of my own needs, and here was someone who would take hardly any effort to get into bed—or a back room, or the back seat of a car. So I smiled at him and sauntered over, trying to carry on a conversation where I knew no German and he was clearly more interested in my boobs than in anything I was trying to say.
