Unmasking Juliet

by Teri Wilson

  Uncle Joe marched back toward him through the fog. He looked distinctly displeased.

  “Leo, I’d like you to explain to me what you were thinking when you asked that gate-crasher to dance with you last night.” He crossed his arms and planted himself directly in Leo’s path.

  Leo walked right around him, continuing on toward the van. He’d managed to avoid a dressing down over the whole Juliet Arabella thing thus far. Uncle Joe had been on his cell phone for the majority of the morning. Clearly whatever business he’d been taking care of was now settled.

  “Don’t ignore me, Leo. I’m still waiting for you to explain yourself.” Uncle Joe scurried behind him.

  Leo opened the door of the van and rid himself of the fountain. “It was a ball. Don’t people typically dance at such parties?”

  “But why her, of all people?” Gina scowled.

  Leo shook his head. Et tu, Gina?

  “There were easily seventy-five women there to choose from, and you picked her. She wasn’t even invited. I should have called the police and had her removed at first sight. Maybe even arrested for trespassing.” A smile made a brief appearance on Uncle Joe’s face at the thought of Juliet Arabella in the slammer.

  “It would never have worked. She came with one of your invited guests. She had every right to be there.” Leo clicked the doors of the cargo van shut and began making his way back to the main building of the winery.

  Gina and Uncle Joe were hot on his heels, of course. Every move he made was apparently now a family matter.

  “A man can dream, can’t he? An Arabella incarcerated—that’s the stuff fantasies are made of.” Uncle Joe’s laugh boomed throughout the valley.

  Leo cleared his throat. He’d had a few fantasies involving Juliet over the course of the past twelve hours, none of which involved her being behind bars. “What do you know about that George character she was with, anyway?”

  He shouldn’t care about the guy. He knew he shouldn’t. He and Juliet had shared an encounter, nothing more. He had no claim on her. What’s more, he didn’t want any such claim. He’d been down that route before with Rose. He had no interest in revisiting that particular brand of disaster.

  Yet the thought of someone else proposing marriage to Juliet on the very night he’d had his hands all over her...

  It riled him. And he wasn’t usually one to be riled.

  Gina’s response did little to alleviate Leo’s irritation. “George Alcott? He’s kind of a big deal. You should probably know who he is.”

  “Do enlighten me,” he ground out.

  Uncle Joe paused on the terrace. His face took on a sudden red hue, and his eyes bulged, like one of those French bulldogs that were all the rage in Paris. “For your information, dear nephew, the man’s full name is George Alcott III.”

  Leo’s annoyance grew threefold, in direct proportion to the Roman numerals after George’s name.

  And he was no doctor, but by all appearances, Uncle Joe suddenly looked as if he were on the verge of an aneurysm. “His family owns Royal Gourmet Distributors. They place specialty food items in local four-and five-star restaurants. For the past two years he’s been putting chocolates from the Arabella Chocolate Boutique all over the area’s finest eateries. They’re mopping up the floor with us. It’s no wonder Juliet Arabella is going to marry him.”

  So, for practical purposes Juliet’s boyfriend held the purse strings to her business? That was a situation that sounded uncomfortably familiar.

  Leo leaned against the stucco wall of the winery and crossed his arms. “She’s not.”

  “Wait...what?” Gina blinked.

  Uncle Joe’s complexion paled a degree or two back toward normal. “Pardon?”

  “She’s not going to marry him. She turned him down.”

  Gina gasped in obvious delight.

  Uncle Joe’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

  Leo’s shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. “She told me.”

  His uncle lifted a sardonic brow. “I assume this confession occurred when you were busy fondling her on the dance floor last night?”

  Fondling her?

  He didn’t know the half of it.

  “For your information, that was dancing. If I’d been fondling her, you’d have known it. I would have put forth greater effort.”

  Uncle Joe wagged a finger at him. “That’s not funny, Leo. Not funny in the slightest.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be funny. I’m dead serious.” There were few things Leo was ever serious about. The list pretty much consisted of chocolate and women. In that order.

  “What’s up? Are you all having a meeting out here?” Gina’s husband, Marco, sauntered out of the building. He carried another godforsaken chocolate fountain in his arms.

  Gina nodded toward Leo. “According to my brother, Juliet Arabella isn’t really going to marry George Alcott.”

  The third. George Alcott III, Leo’s subconscious screamed. Sometimes his subconscious could be a real bitch.

  Marco’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “That’s big news.”

  “Wait a minute. She could have lied,” Gina said. “Just to throw us off track.”

  Yeah, right. When he’d dragged her onto the dance floor, she’d been way too rattled to make something up. “Trust me. She wasn’t lying.”

  “There isn’t something going on between the two of you, is there?” Gina looked wholly horrified at the prospect.

  Uncle Joe answered on his behalf. “Of course there isn’t. It’s not possible. She’s an Arabella, and Leo is a Mezzanotte.”

  As if it were a law. Or based on any sort of rational thinking.

  Leo opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, his uncle raised a hand to silence him. “You can forget any ideas you have about wooing Juliet Arabella. Juliet wouldn’t give you the time of day. She’s well situated under her mother’s thumb. Charming as you may be, you’re a Mezzanotte. That makes you her mother’s worst nightmare.”

  His description of Juliet didn’t sit well with Leo. Not at all. “You’re wrong about her.”

  “And what would you know of Juliet Arabella?” Uncle Joe scowled heartily.

  I know what her lips feel like, sliding against mine.

  I know what a whimper of desire sounds like, coming from her lush mouth.

  “I know she’s not marrying George Alcott III. That speaks volumes, don’t you think?” Leo couldn’t help but feel a certain affinity with her in that regard. The two of them had both had a chance to marry into fortunes, and they’d each turned it down. He wasn’t quite sure whether that made them respectable or the same brand of crazy.

  He pushed off the stucco wall and crossed the threshold into the ballroom. He’d had about enough of this conversation.

  Uncle Joe called after him. “At any rate, I forbid you to see her again.”

  Forbid? Didn’t he know the surest way to pique a man’s interest in a woman was to declare her off-limits?

  Not that he needed much piquing. He was plenty piqued already after that hot encounter in the vineyard, regardless of her last name.

  He turned back around and planted his hands on his hips. He couldn’t help but notice that Gina and Marco had made themselves scarce all of a sudden. “Since when do you give me orders?”

  “Since last night. You’re a vital part of the family business now. It’s time to start acting like it.”

  Be careful what you wish for. “You want me to start acting like a ‘vital part’ of Mezzanotte Chocolates? Fine. We’ll start with the store.”

  Uncle Joe’s mouth fell into a flat line. “There’s nothing wrong with the store.”

  “Look, you can stop pretending. I know what’s going on.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re ta
lking about, Leo.” Uncle Joe flexed and unflexed his fingers, no doubt in an attempt to show off his imaginary arthritis.

  “You’re not sick. Admit it.” Leo crossed his arms and waited.

  “I’m seventy years old,” Uncle Joe said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Leo countered.

  Uncle Joe let out a sigh of resignation. “You don’t understand. The Arabellas are driving me to my grave. For years, they’ve been struggling away in their tiny little shop while our chocolates have been the crème de la crème of Napa Valley. And then George Alcott III came along. I refuse to die until we’re back on top.”

  Leo released a long, frustrated exhale. This was California, not Le Cordon Bleu. He’d thought his days of cutthroat competition were behind him. “First of all, no one wants you to die. And second, if being the best in the valley is what you’re really worried about, then you need to let me do my job.”

  “I’m not sure you understand how important this is. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be dancing cheek to cheek with the enemy.”

  Again with the dancing. He could have stripped naked and waltzed around the ballroom solo, and it would have been less controversial that what he’d actually been guilty of. “Being the best has absolutely nothing to do with who I choose to dance with.”

  Or sleep with.

  Although bedding Juliet Arabella was beginning to look less and less like a possibility. He was somewhat stunned that the earth hadn’t toppled right off its axis when they’d kissed.

  “What is it you want, Leo? To marry the girl?” Uncle Joe looked nauseous.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Hell, no. Hadn’t he just narrowly escaped the noose? Marriage was the last thing on his mind. Didn’t he have enough people trying to tell him what to do already? “I’m talking about creative control. I want free rein over the chocolate shop. I will create whatever I like, whenever I like. For the store, the catered events and all our food festival appearances. And, yes, that includes mendiants and other distinctly French items. Do we have a deal, or should I catch the next plane back to Paris?”

  His words hung between them in the damp air of the valley. No doubt Uncle Joe thought he was bluffing.

  He wasn’t. He might not have enough capital to start his own store in France, but he could always go back to La Maison.

  “Free rein, hmm?”

  “Have a little faith. I know what I’m doing. Isn’t that why I’m standing here?” Leo gestured to the valley, the grapes, the gently swirling fog. The Mezzanotte shop might not be technically visible from where they stood, but it was a part of Napa as much as a good merlot.

  “Okay, we have a deal.” Uncle Joe extended his hand.

  Leo took it and tried to shake the feeling that he’d just made a deal with the devil instead of his own flesh and blood.

  “Ha!” Uncle Joe raised a fist in victory. “We’re going to crush the Arabellas. Decimate them.”

  Just as Leo began to release his fingers from his uncle’s grip, Uncle Joe squeezed his hand even harder. He leaned close, and his eyes grew dark. Deadly. “And you, my dear nephew, will be the weapon that puts an end to them once and for all.”

  5

  Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

  Aside from the annual Napa Valley Chocolate Fair, Juliet hadn’t participated in a food festival, wine event or any other type of fun-filled outdoor gathering since Royal Gourmet Distributors had joined forces with Arabella Chocolate Boutique. In fact, George had preferred them not to participate in such events, calling them pedestrian and saying that peddling their goods at such affairs weakened the exclusivity of their brand.

  Their brand.

  She should have known what a pretentious ass he was the first time she’d heard him use that word. They weren’t the Kardashians, they were chocolatiers. And now that Royal Gourmet had so unceremoniously dropped them, they were no longer above offering their chocolates to the masses of hipsters who flocked to the wine country in search of the latest and greatest food trend. In fact, participating in such events was a crucial part of Juliet’s new strategy for making sure Arabella Chocolate Boutique stayed on the map. Truth be told, it was pretty much the entirety of her strategy.

  She’d tried contacting a few of the restaurants that only days ago had been proud to feature Arabella creations on their menus. Every one of those calls had gone unreturned. She couldn’t bring herself to call on The French Laundry. Being ignored by a chef like Thomas Keller would have been an omen too menacing to even contemplate. So she’d moved on to Plan B—create a demand for their products that was so great, the chefs would eventually come crawling back to her. And in order to do so, they needed to venture beyond the boutique and out into the world.

  Since the Napa Valley Chocolate Fair was still two weeks away, first up was the Nuovo Winery’s famed annual hot air balloon festival. Fortunately for Juliet, it fell on the Saturday immediately following the Mezzanotte Masquerade Ball.

  Unfortunately, her mother’s fury over her refusal to marry George hadn’t waned over the course of the past five days. If anything, she was even angrier. So angry that she’d ordered Juliet to handle the balloon festival entirely on her own. She’d outright forbidden every member of the family to lift a finger.

  The snub was no doubt intended to be a penance, but Juliet couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved. She had no desire to spend any more time with her parents right now than absolutely necessary. And if that meant staying holed up in the chocolate shop by herself until past midnight on the eve of the balloon fest, then so be it.

  Except she wasn’t quite alone. Cocoa’s heavy bulk rested on Juliet’s feet as she sat putting the finishing touches on her chocolate-dipped strawberries. Not just any berries—locally grown, organic berries. And not just any chocolate—she’d used a beautiful mixture of dark Belgian chocolate, and topped it off with a heavy dusting of luminescent, edible gold glitter. The berries couldn’t have looked more beautiful if Midas had brushed them with the tips of his magic fingers.

  A quiet knock on the shop door startled Cocoa into wakefulness. She lifted her shaggy head and let out a single deep bark. Juliet thought she saw a puff of glitter fly out of Cocoa’s mouth, but she might have been hallucinating. It had been a long week.

  She hurried to the door, Cocoa’s toenails clicking behind her on the tile floor. Then she peered into the darkness as she opened the front door just wide enough for Alegra to dart inside. “No one saw you, right?”

  “This is crazy. I can’t believe I’m sneaking into this place.” Alegra pushed back the hood of her sweatshirt, revealing her close-cropped platinum blond hair and signature giant hoop earrings. Even in a hoodie, Alegra was easy to spot. “I spend over forty hours a week busting my butt here. You’d think I’d be welcome any time of day or night.”

  Juliet closed the door and clicked the dead bolt in place. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “That’s what they all say.” Alegra grinned.

  “Seriously, I don’t want to get you in any trouble. I’m supposed to be in solitary confinement. You didn’t see anyone outside, did you?”

  Alegra shed her sweatshirt and pulled a frilly, ruffled apron over her head. “No one but your secret boyfriend.”

  Juliet’s cheeks grew hot. Alegra and Nico had taken to teasing her unmercifully about dancing with the enemy. Of course, neither of them would think it was quite so hilarious if they knew her association with Leo hadn’t been limited to the dance floor. “Leonardo Mezzanotte is not my boyfriend, secret or otherwise.”

  Cocoa let loose with another bark.

  Alegra frowned at the dog. “Is Cocoa barking glitter?”

  “Maybe, but look at the strawberries.”

  Alegra gasped at the sight of the gilded berries shimmering under the light of the crystal chandelier that hung overhead. “O
h, my God, they’re gorgeous.”

  “Gorgeous enough to compete with whatever the Mezzanottes will bring?”

  Woof.

  “Cocoa, shh.” Juliet ran her hand over the dog’s head.

  “Since when do you worry about your beautiful chocolates being outshone by anything the Mezzanottes do?”

  Woof.

  Juliet wagged a finger at Cocoa.

  Alegra shrugged and went to work gently placing the strawberries in clear plastic boxes. “I mean, the Mezzanottes are drugstore candy bars and we’re refined elegance.”

  Woof.

  If only things were so simple. “I don’t know. I have a feeling that’s about to change. Did you know he studied at the superior level at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris?”

  “Who? Your clandestine lover?”

  “Yes.” Juliet’s hands trembled. What happened in the vineyard had become so ingrained in her memory that it had become a part of her, every bit as physical as it was emotional. Even now, standing in the Arabella Chocolate Boutique, she swore she could feel the silky smoothness of his tie slipping through her fingers, feel his breath, hot and sultry against her skin. “I mean, no. Leonardo Mezzanotte is not, and never will be, my lover.”

  Woof.

  The scissors fell from her hands and landed on the counter with a clatter. God help her if she ever actually slept with him. She’d probably lose all ability to function. Good thing that would never happen. Because it wouldn’t. Ever.

  Alegra picked up the scissors and handed them back to her. “Take it easy, there. I was only kidding. I know you’d never do something like that. Your mom might be a piece of work, God help us all, but family is family. We stick together. Always. Besides, you’re way too smart to ever get involved with one of them. They’re nothing but liars and crooks. Look what happened to Grandma when she made the mistake of trusting a Mezzanotte.”

  Woof.

  “Cocoa, hush!” they both shrieked in unison. Then they looked at each other and laughed.

  Alegra cleared her throat, and suddenly she had a rather uncharacteristically pensive look on her face. “Juliet, there’s something about Leo you should probably know. It’s something your mom heard, but I thought it would be better coming from me.”