Love in the Vineyard (The Tavonesi Series Book 7)

by Pamela Aares

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, son. Every effort counts if it comes from a place of wisdom and wholeness. The trick is not to fool yourself into thinking you have the full picture when you don’t. And the only way to get the whole picture is to look really hard at your motivations. At what’s hidden from you, what you’ve buried. Bring what’s hidden to light, and then you can make better decisions. Perhaps Natasha and Enrique have given you a gift—you have the opportunity to begin to see more clearly without putting lives at stake.”

  It was Adrian’s turn to poke at the fire. The flames leaped and then settled, like a cat disturbed from a nap. He did need to sort through his motivations. Was he any different from Eddie? Just because he wasn’t trying to force Natasha into a corner, was the result he sought any different? He wanted her in his life, but she had the right to make her own decisions and to do so without pressure. It would take time for him to examine his motivations, to be honest with himself and with Natasha. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do what he could to help her in the meantime. And to do that he needed information.

  “Were you able to find out anything about Edward Markiston?”

  “I’m not sure you’re going to be happy with what my team dug up.”

  “I hadn’t expected to be.”

  “Mr. Markiston comes from a wealthy West Coast family. He attended Stanford, where he was an honors student. But here’s the odd part, he dropped out before graduating. Went to officer candidate school and then flight school. He did five tours of duty in Afghanistan with the Air Force. Then his parents’ yacht went down. And his grandfather died. The grandfather controlled the family wealth. There’s a will that stipulates that Edward has to have an heir by the time he turns thirty or he won’t receive any of the funds.”

  “Sounds like something out of an eighteenth-century novel.”

  “People can behave strangely when fortunes, their mortality and their legacies are concerned.”

  Adrian knew too well. His own grandmother had made each of his brothers and sisters wait until they were twenty-five before they could control the funds she’d bequeathed to them. But he believed she had their well-being in mind. The old man who had written the absurd will that was making Natasha’s life a living hell appeared only to care about the continuity of his lineage. His genes.

  “He turns thirty this month,” his father added.

  Rage lit in Adrian’s veins. “He’s using her.”

  “Maybe.” His father steepled his fingers and held Adrian with a narrowed stare. “And maybe not. The timing could be a coincidence. Edward might or might not have known about the terms before his grandfather’s death four months ago.”

  Santino could turn situations and look at them from all sides. That talent was one that had made him one of the top undercover agents on the planet. And evidently it was a skill Adrian had yet to master.

  “Not long after that, Eddie saw Natasha on the Megatron at the game—with Tyler.”

  “Precisely. Yet my sources turned up a couple of visits to the casino where she had once worked by tracking his credit cards. He was already looking for her before the ballgame.” Santino lifted an empty tumbler from his desk. “Will or no will, it’s possible that the man really does want to step up and be a father to the boy. And probable that he intended to make amends with Natasha.”

  “Then he has a hell of a poor way of going about it, slapping court documents on her like he did.”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t trust her. As the biological father, he has rights. The court will see that he hasn’t had any opportunity before this to be in the boy’s life.”

  “He wants the money.”

  “Very likely. But he’s also the boy’s father. It’s hard to judge motivation from a distance.”

  Santino handed him a computer printout. “My contact secured a copy of the grandfather’s will.”

  A strange hope sparked in Adrian’s chest as he read through the pages. “There’s no mention of marriage.”

  “None.” Santino rose and poured himself a whiskey from the decanter on his desk. “Would you like one?”

  “No. Hell no.” He was still taking in the fact that there was no marriage clause. “Natasha needs this information, needs to know about the terms of this will. And she needs to know that she certainly doesn’t have to marry the guy.”

  “Information isn’t always the answer.” Santino eyed Adrian over the rim of his glass. “Do you love her?”

  He hadn’t expected his father’s question. That the answer came, immediate and unambiguous, surprised him too.

  “Yes.”

  “And the boy?”

  “Tyler. His name is Tyler.”

  Adrian thought about the afternoon two days before when he’d dropped Tyler off at Brandon’s. How he’d felt when Tyler had hugged him and when Tyler had made a child’s case for his mom.

  “Yes.”

  His father raised a brow. “This could be complicated.”

  “It already is.”

  “You’d be raising another man’s child. Part-time at least. This man would be a part of your life whether you want him to be or not.”

  “I haven’t asked her to marry me. I doubt she would after all this. She’s angry that I promoted her without consulting her. That I put both her and Enrique in this position.” He rubbed at his eyes. “She has so much to handle with Eddie, how can I ask more of her, demand more of her?”

  “For far too long I made too many decisions for others. You have this trait, son. In abundance.” He smiled and saluted with his glass. “It comes from a good place, but there’s a shadow under it, an arrogance that must be mastered.” He walked across the room and pressed a finger to Adrian’s heart. “You always have to make room for choice, especially the choices of others. Men who make choices for others, even for very good reasons, become the worst sort of tyrants.”

  Choice.

  “I didn’t offer Natasha a choice. I made a mistake. A big mistake. I may have already lost her.”

  “Love often provides second chances. If it didn’t, I’d never have won your mother.” He leaned his hip against the desk and nailed Adrian with a sober gaze. “I have a concern greater than any of this, Adrian, one your mother shared. As I said, I admire what you’re doing here. But I fear that you’ve set a trap for yourself. Your mother worried that you have a deep sense of guilt regarding your privilege—and I believe she was right. This misplaced sense of guilt keeps you from enjoying your life. From reaching out for what might make you happy.”

  “I did nothing to deserve my fortune.” Adrian swept his arm out into the room. “Or to deserve this. Any of this.”

  But his father’s words struck deep.

  Santino scrubbed a hand along his chin. “Do you think people do things—work and strive and so forth—to deserve the original circumstances of their lives? How would that be possible unless we all lived former lives, which I don’t believe in? But one aspect of living that every person on this planet shares is the choice of how to live in the face of events that life throws in our paths. Everyone has to ask the same question—What can be made of the cards that I’ve been dealt?”

  Adrian paced, listening. It’d been a long time since he and his father had spoken like this. Since before they’d moved from Rome. Before Adrian’s mother had passed away.

  “And no matter how clear you are in your thinking, son, some situations are literally out of your hands. Life has its mysteries, its own course. Sometimes you have to surrender to the power and to those mysteries.”

  “Surrender…,” Adrian repeated, remembering his words to Natasha while they were making love.

  “Yes, well, there’s a positive side to the shadow world, though sometimes we don’t want to look at that either, to examine the good parts of ourselves that we’ve cut off. Your mother was the greatest balance for me, as I was for her. When she died, I lost my way. I can only be grateful that you and your siblings have forgi
ven me for my foolhardiness.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “For landing you here.”

  Adrian’s gut clenched. Had he been blinded by his sense of guilt? By his drive to control the world? “Maybe we needed to come here. Maybe I was meant to meet Natasha. Maybe our destinies required it.”

  As Adrian said the words, he wished in his heart they were true. Maybe his father was right—maybe he had been cutting himself off from happiness, reaching for it but not allowing himself to keep it firmly in his grasp.

  “It’s rather late in the night to start that discussion,” Santino said. “Destiny will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  FIRST THING THE NEXT MORNING, ADRIAN drove to Enrique’s. His anger hadn’t dissolved even as his plan took shape in the night. He’d wrestled hard with his impulse to engage his father’s team and get more dirt on Eddie Markiston. To shut the guy down and punish him for what he’d done to Natasha—what he was doing to her now. Enrique was the least of his worries.

  He told an increasingly astonished Enrique that not only were the Tavonesis not going to prosecute him but that he had a new job, a promotion, and a future at the vineyard. But when Adrian followed those announcements with the news that the Tavonesis were going to pay for Enrique’s grandmother’s medical treatments, the tears the man had shed had washed into Adrian’s soul.

  Adrian hadn’t forgotten his father’s cautions. But deep in his gut he knew he’d done the right thing.

  And yet, as he drove to Natasha’s, his certainty wavered. Teasing out his underlying motivations regarding her had kept him tossing in the night. And when he had slept, fitful dreams had him waking in a cold sweat. Destiny was one hell of a taskmaster.

  He wanted Natasha in his life. He wanted to marry her and wake up every morning with her beside him. He wanted to be the best stepfather he could be for Tyler. But he wanted Natasha to choose a future with him, from a place of freedom and confidence, not be forced by need or circumstance. A woman like Natasha could have any man in the world. Maybe she didn’t know it yet, but she would. And he’d wait. Wait until she had her feet under her. Until the mess with Eddie was behind her and manageable. Until she could see from the growth of the native garden business that she had talent and skills that couldn’t be learned from a book. Until… Hell, he’d just wait.

  Natasha answered her door dressed in her work jeans and a white shirt. Maybe the same shirt he’d stripped from her shoulders in the wine cave. But the immediate want that rushed in him was dammed when he looked into her eyes. Rimmed with red, they announced that she’d been crying. It tortured him to know that the news he bore could bring more anguish.

  “May I come in?”

  She brushed a strand of hair from her face and nodded as she stepped back into her small hallway. He wanted to take her face in his palms and kiss her until she smiled. But even that would have to wait for another day.

  “‘I’m glad you came,” she said with a wan smile. “I wanted to tell you not to worry—things are better with Eddie. He came by yesterday. Spent some time with Tyler. We didn’t tell Tyler who he was, of course. It’s much too early.”

  Adrian fought down the urge to track the guy down and give him a one-way ticket to Mars.

  Natasha’s nervous laugh chilled him. “He even provided the name of his PTSD therapist and said I could call her to check up on him.”

  She gestured toward the kitchen counter. “Would you like some coffee? It’s cold, but I can heat it.”

  Why did he feel like he was on stage? Like they were running through lines with emotions kept in check under carefully rehearsed words?

  “No, thank you. I had some before I left the house.” Four cups. And they hadn’t put a dent in the thick feeling in his head. Hadn’t done a thing for the ache in his heart either.

  “He’s offered to help support Tyler.”

  “He’s obligated by law.” Adrian didn’t succeed in keeping the anger out of his voice. Timing. He had to time his news carefully. But as he looked into Natasha’s eyes, he knew there wasn’t any timing that would make his news hurt less.

  “And he apologized for the court summons,” she said quickly. “He was afraid, he admitted. He wants to have us in his life. He wants to try his hand at being a dad.”

  Adrian felt her searching his face. If she saw what he felt, she’d back a mile away. It was all he could do to control the rage building in him.

  “He said he wants us to be a family. Said his war wounds have healed.”

  She deserved the truth.

  “He may have mixed motives for coming back into your life.”

  She crossed her arms. “How would you know anything about his motives?”

  Her words challenged, but the rise of her shoulders reminded Adrian that she already had doubts about Eddie.

  Adrian wanted to wrap her in his arms, to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay. But would it? Eddie would have to prove his fitness to be a father, and likely he would. And then she’d have to share Tyler with him. If Adrian were in Natasha’s place, he’d be terrified at the prospect. And what he was about to reveal might make her life and her decisions harder.

  He reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew the copy of the will that Santino had printed out the previous night.

  “You might want to read this.”

  She put her hand to throat. “What is it?”

  “A will. Eddie’s grandfather’s will.”

  She took the pages, glanced through them and then handed them back. “You know I can’t read this very well. And the legal terms… I don’t understand them. What does it say, Adrian? You tell me.”

  How many people over the course of history had felt the anguish of bearing bad news?

  “Basically it says you don’t have to marry him.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Eddie. You don’t have to marry him.”

  “I never thought I had to marry him. It was just an idea of his. I never took it seriously.”

  Relief flooded Adrian. Then he considered whether to tell her the rest. Who was he helping? Himself? No, she should know. Might as well tell her the whole truth. Even if revealing his information and how he obtained it might hurt his chances with her.

  “Eddie has to have an heir. He gets his money, major family money, just by the fact that Tyler exists.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She leaned against her kitchen counter, and the trembling in her arms made him feel like the worst sort of villain.

  Worse, every time he wanted to express his own intentions toward Natasha—to tell her he wanted to marry her, to give Tyler a home, to provide both of them a secure future, to love them—circumstances made it not only impossible to tell her but just plain wrong. Unfair. And justice was his compass, fairness the only guide he trusted.

  “By the time Eddie turns thirty—which is in less than a month—he has to have an heir,” Adrian stated in the most level voice possible. “A child of his own. Without one, he can’t claim his inheritance. Without Tyler, no mega inheritance. Poof. Gone to Eddie’s grandfather’s country club for a new fountain and golf greens.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “No, Natasha. I wish it were.”

  She motioned toward the will. “How did you get that?”

  “My father pulled in some favors. He has a… a friend in the court system.”

  “I dreaded Eddie coming into my life. I dreaded it with all my heart. I thought he could never find us, even if he looked. That damned baseball game!”

  She shuddered. And Adrian couldn’t hold back. He moved toward her, but she angled closer to the counter, away from him.

  “I want Tyler to have a better life than I had,” she said, her voice trailing off. “I still do.”

  His heart was breaking. He’d reviewed his motivations, all right. He wanted her and couldn’t imagine life without her. But he couldn’t say any of that, not now. He c
ouldn’t sway her. She needed to choose on her own.

  “I can help you. I have resources.”

  She shot her gaze to his. “I don’t want to be another of your projects, Adrian. Don’t get me wrong, I think what you’re doing with the vineyard is great. Amazing, really. But I don’t want to be a project. Not yours anyway.” She pushed away from the counter and began to pace in a circle. “And Eddie wants to be a father to Tyler. I believe that much.”

  Adrian’s anger got the best of him.

  “He’s in your life to get his money.”

  “You don’t know that. You didn’t see him yesterday. He even kept his promise not to tell Tyler who he was. He understood that I need time to break that news.” She waved a hand. “And if he’s dealing with a deadline, he was probably dying to tell Tyler.”

  “You can protect yourself. Protect Tyler. Get help. I have excellent attorneys.”

  “I don’t want to be your project,” she repeated.

  “I’m offering help, Natasha. You’re not a project.” He thrust a hand through his hair, his mind doing a rapid-fire scan of possible arguments to convince her. Truth was the best strategy always. “I’d do the same for any employee of the vineyard.”

  He would. Not with the same motivation. But he’d still do it.

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. She reached for a box of tissues and swiped at her cheek. Of course this was unwelcome news, but she was taking it much harder than he’d expected. He couldn’t help but feel he was missing something in the conversation. As if he’d skipped an entire page of the script and was now lost in the words resounding in her small kitchen.

  “You would, wouldn’t you? For any employee.”

  He nodded. “You can limit Eddie’s contact,” he added, grasping at the future he felt slipping away with her every glance. “With good legal counsel you can ensure that he has limited and supervised visitation until you’re sure he’s reformed.”

  When she didn’t respond, he tried another tactic. “Don’t be stubborn. Let us help you. Pride will just hurt you and Tyler.”