Decadent

by Alexx Andria

  “We are on track,” Como said, but he was still grousing about the American. “You don’t take this threat seriously. I sense he is not one to give up easily. You should’ve thrown him from the property to send a stronger message that he is not welcome.”

  What Como found most threatening was that where Como was long and lanky in build with a strong hawk nose, Dante was built like a soldier, molded with muscle and brawn. Even that designer suit couldn’t hide that hard form. I smothered a shiver. I was willing to bet that in bed, Dante was an animal. Just the kind of lover I craved. I returned my attention to Como, snapping my fingers with irritation. “Stay on task, Como. Just because we operate out of a castle does not mean we keep medieval ways. We don’t toss the distasteful from the ramparts. We send them on their way with our compliments. Better for business.”

  Como nodded, grudgingly admitting I was right. “You do your family proud. You are so smart and wise. And beautiful.” Como’s gaze warmed and I exhaled with a slight shake of my head.

  His last comment only cemented my decision to keep things professional between us. Como had been a competent lover but mostly convenient. In spite of ending our sexual relationship more than a year ago, he still held out hope that I would change my mind about wanting more—which I wouldn’t—and he followed me like a puppy.

  Bad judgment and sexual frustration make for terrible bedfellows. Como’s endless unrequited-love sorrow was annoying, but out of deference for our long friendship and business relationship, I tolerated his overtures while avoiding any physical contact.

  However, my patience was at its end. I turned to face him, my expression stern. “Como, we are no longer lovers,” I reminded him. “We agreed that we were better as friends.”

  “No, I never agreed,” he said with a frown. “You made a decision and expected me to simply fall in line. I understood your reasoning, and with the strain of Uva Persa hanging on your shoulders, I realized it was better to go along with your decision. But soon we launch and the stress will no longer weigh you down, freeing you to see that you and I are a perfect team. I am a patient man and you are worth waiting for.”

  My stomach knotted, not for the first time, at Como’s self-assuredness of his belief, which was wrong on so many levels. I glared with frustration. “You are not patient. You are stubborn.”

  “You will come around,” Como said with a cockiness I found unattractive on him. “No one knows you as I do.”

  “You do not know me as well as you think if you believe I enjoy being patronized,” I said coolly, and Como stiffened at the rebuke. “You are a valuable member of my staff and I appreciate your talents on a business level but do not mistake me. If you continue to pursue this dangerous line of thinking it will not only ruin our friendship but our working relationship, as well.”

  “You would fire me?” Como asked, surprised.

  “If you continued to force my hand.”

  Como held my gaze as if trying to ascertain whether I was serious or bluffing. If he knew me as well as he claimed, he would know I didn’t bluff. The fact that we were having this conversation, after I’d already settled the matter, created no small amount of heartburn. He was right in that Uva Persa was weighing on my shoulders with all the unwieldy grace of an elephant, but the day would never come that I invited Como back into my bed. I never made the same mistake twice.

  “No one will ever love you the way I do,” Como said, his lips disappearing as his frown deepened into a scowl. “No one will understand your burdens as I do.”

  Como truly believed his own conviction and because he was a good man, I softened a little. “Perhaps,” I conceded for the sake of his ego. “But I am not the woman for you. I would only bring you misery. Please, let us put this tiresome argument to rest and return to what we are truly good at together.”

  I would never beg but I didn’t want to lose Como as a friend or as a trusted business ally. He’d been my right hand for so many years and I didn’t want to lose him over something as stupid as misplaced affections.

  After a long tense moment, Como jerked a short nod to indicate we could move on and I breathed a secret sigh of relief. Hopefully, this conversation was well and truly done. Moving quickly to business, I tapped the desk, saying, “I need to go over the contracts for the campaign. Would you please have them sent to my office?”

  “Of course.”

  Grateful to be back on course, I left Como and headed for the grounds. I liked to be visible in all areas of production, from the business side to the agricultural. But when I walked the grounds, the fresh air tickling my nose, the cypress trees swaying in the breeze, I felt closest to Enzo.

  My twin brother, my touchstone, was the one who’d been enamored with the winemaking business. He’d had so many plans, so many hopes and dreams.

  It was Enzo who had first mentioned the legacy of the lost grapes. At the time, I’d listened to him talk about the possibility of resurrecting ancient varietals but it’d seemed a fantasy, something to dream about. Enzo had been sure that it was a possibility and he was going to try to make it happen when he was old enough.

  But my brother never got the chance. When he died in an auto accident at sixteen, a part of me died with him. Twins share a bond that is hard to explain.

  Enzo would’ve been a premier winemaker—his love for the business had been unparalleled. I was but Enzo’s weak imitation, but I swore to his memory that I would never let Baroni wines fail. They would thrive in his honor.

  Uva Persa would be our crowning achievement. Only Nonno knew what I’d been through to cultivate my secret vineyard, and he kept my secret, but the pressure to succeed was nearly crushing me.

  Even after carefully selecting the property to grow the tenerone—testing the soil, checking for acidity and appropriate climate, tending to the vineyard as it finally yielded fruit—it’d taken three years for the wine to mature and it was finally ready for its debut.

  So when Donato came around making offers, what he didn’t know was that there was no amount I would ever accept. I would never shame Enzo’s dream by selling—much less selling to an American.

  Donato would just have to find another winery to purchase for his collection.

  Castello di Baroni would never be for sale.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dante

  ALESSANDRA EXPECTED ME to leave the grounds. Given her curt refusal to entertain my substantial offer, it wasn’t surprising that she gave me little thought after leaving me in the great hall.

  But I wasn’t ready to leave.

  Maybe I’d play tourist and check out the gift shop. I needed to poke around, get a more accurate idea of what I was dealing with. I couldn’t think of a better way to get information than playing the part of a tourist within Castello di Baroni walls.

  With a final appreciative glance around the great hall—my father would dig the whole king of the castle vibe the room gave off—I headed for the gift shop.

  It was easy enough to find, and I stepped inside with a friendly smile and a disarming disposition for the attractive woman manning the counter. Unlike my brothers, I wasn’t one to use the Donato charm to get what I wanted, but I liked to win and I wasn’t above using whatever tools I had at my disposal.

  “Welcome to Castello di Baroni,” she said with a sweet Italian accent and a welcoming smile. “My name is Mia. May I interest you in a sample today?”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mia. I’m Dante. What are you pouring?” I asked, feigning curiosity.

  “Well, Dante, you’re in for a treat,” Mia said, retrieving a small tasting glass. “Today we have a bottle of Castello di Baroni’s Chianti Classico. Our wines have been served on royal tables since the seventeenth century.”

  “That’s quite a claim,” I said.

  “And completely verifiable,” she said, eyes sparkling. “But once you taste our wines, you’ll unders
tand why Castello di Baroni is a premier choice for discerning palates.”

  I accepted the glass and swirled the dark burgundy before burying my nose to appreciate the notes rising from the glass. With a short smile, I took a sip. It was good. Not quite as good as the Riserva Alessandra had shared earlier but still quite good. It was easy to see why Castello di Baroni was a solid label.

  My father would enjoy having the label in his collection.

  But first, I had to bring it home. “Excellent,” I said, smiling as I pretended to be in awe of the grounds.

  “We offer shipping to anywhere around the world,” Mia said, fishing for a sale. “Having a Baroni wine on the table is a guaranteed conversation starter.”

  “I can imagine,” I mused, savoring the wine. I took a moment to peruse the shop, making sure my gaze returned to the large open window with the gorgeous view of the grounds. “Incredible. The history within these walls... I’m overwhelmed by everything.”

  She nodded, pleased that I was impressed. “Is this your first trip to Italy?”

  “Actually, yes,” I answered, stretching the truth a bit. I’d been to Italy for business but I’d never played the tourist. Most of my time in Italy had been spent in boardrooms or hotel bars. I’d spent precious little time enjoying the visual treats the country was known for. “I’m so glad I stumbled on this place. It’s simply stunning. A working winery with such deep roots...pretty amazing.”

  Mia was happy to chirp on about her employers’ origins, which I eagerly encouraged. The more I knew about my opponent, the better.

  “Castello di Baroni has the distinction of being the largest winery in the Chianti Classico area as well as being one of the oldest working wineries in the region. Did you know that the original castle was built in the late thirteen hundreds?”

  “Very impressive. All that history...if only these walls could talk, eh?”

  Mia giggled. “Much intrigue and bloodshed. The Medicis were frequent guests and where they went, scandal followed.”

  I laughed along with Mia. “You should put that on the brochure.”

  “Oh, goodness,” she said with a flirty smile. “Alessandra would never do that.”

  “And who is Alessandra?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Alessandra di Baroni. She is the winery’s CEO and the only living Baroni heir.”

  “And does this Alessandra have no sense of adventure? I think playing up the Medici angle would be a sensational tourist trap. You’d sell more wine that way.”

  “We do things differently here at Castello di Baroni. It’s not always about the sale,” Mia said, politely chastising me for such a crass suggestion. I probably came off as typically American. I’d done enough traveling throughout Europe to know that Americans were often disdained for our lack of tradition or sense of ritual.

  “I agree, the way you’re doing things is better. Obviously, when you’ve been around since the thirteen hundreds, you’ve got a firm handle on how to succeed.” I winked to show that I was capable of listening to subtle cues. She rewarded me with an approving smile. I sensed a deep appreciation for Alessandra, which was interesting. While Alessandra may seem the hardnose, she must truly value her staff as Mia wasn’t about to say anything that threw her boss under the bus.

  There was no one I would consider loyal in our employ. I had no doubt that any of the executives who sat in the boardroom at Donato Inc. would sell their own grandmother if it meant getting ahead. That was just the nature of business. I didn’t hold it against them, but I wondered what it would be like to be the recipient of Mia’s brand of loyalty. A world without fake smiles, ass-kissing and backstabbing as the norm.

  Right, like that place existed. Appearances were deceiving. For all I knew sweet Mia could be sleeping with Alessandra’s father behind closed doors or embezzling from the company.

  “Tell me more about the castle,” I prompted, steering the conversation to ground where Mia felt more comfortable. “I find it all so fascinating.”

  “Oh, it truly is. The castle survived the devastation of World War II without so much as losing a pebble in her foundation, whereas other castles in the area weren’t as lucky. Some say the castle is blessed.”

  “And here I thought castles were supposed to be haunted. Surely there are a few ghosts rattling around the stones. Please don’t ruin all my European castle stereotypes.”

  “Perhaps one or two,” she said with a conspiratorial wink. “There is a story about an old groundskeeper who can be seen walking the vines from time to time, but he seems to be the helpful sort of ghost, not the scary kind.”

  “No wailing lady in white to be found?” I asked.

  “Not that I’ve heard but you’d have to ask Alessandra. She grew up in the castle and if there’s anything ghostly, she’d know.”

  I let that information sink in for a moment. “Grew up in the castle? Wow, that’s not something you hear every day. The only people I’ve ever heard of living in a castle are the Windsors.”

  “Well, Windsor Castle is older than Castello di Baroni and impressive as well. Have you been?”

  “Not much of a touristy traveler,” I admitted. “But I see now that I’ve been missing out. I think I need to start seeing the world through a different lens, which definitely includes a few castle tours. I’m bound to find at least one with a wailing lady in white, right?”

  “The odds are in your favor,” she said, laughing. “Actually, you seem like someone who might be interested in a special event the winery holds each year to celebrate the harvest,” she said, reaching beneath the counter to produce a five-by-seven invitation printed on thick card stock with gold filigree. “A man of your tastes might find tonight’s event worth your while.”

  The woman was good. Without being obvious, she’d sized me up quickly and determined I had the pocketbook required for such an event.

  I accepted the invite, flipping it over to read the details of the black-tie event. “Una Notte Magica,” I murmured, and I knew I’d been given an excellent chance to learn more about Alessandra even if she didn’t welcome me with open arms. “Will the Baroni family be in attendance? I’d love to meet the people behind such an esteemed winery,” I said.

  “Oh yes, it’s a big event for the family. They take great pride in their annual event. It’s a Baroni tradition and they are very approachable, very generous with their time.”

  Perfect. “Forgive my ignorance but...how does one family run this operation so seamlessly?” I asked, pandering to the woman’s pride in her employer. “I’m surprised Castello di Baroni hasn’t been snapped up by a corporation by this point.”

  “Oh no, signor, the Baronis are very close, very dedicated to keeping the business going privately and family operated as it always has been. Tradition is everything to them. They treat their employees like family, unlike those operations owned by bigger entities. We are very proud to be Baroni employees.”

  Ah, that explained the loyalty.

  “That’s amazing. American business could take a lesson in Baroni employment retention tenets,” I said, playing along. “So, Alessandra is the sole heir? She handles all of this on her own? No other family to help?”

  “No, sadly, it is only Alessandra Baroni running things. Enzo, her twin brother, died when he was young, and everything fell to Alessandra. But she has more than risen to the occasion, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, seeming impressed. “She must be a powerhouse. A real modern woman.”

  The woman giggled. “Oh yes, Alessandra is all that and more. She is bringing Baroni into the future even if her father is a little more reluctant to be so progressive. The wine industry is slow to change but Alessandra is a force of nature. She does not need anyone’s approval to make the big decisions. We are all so proud of her and what she’s doing.”

  Realizing she may have said too much, t
he woman straightened with a quick smile. “I talk of things that are of no interest to you. My apologies, signor.”

  “Not at all. I love hearing about the winery’s history,” I said, putting her fears to rest. I’d have to stop giving my younger brother shit for always using the Donato charm to get his way. I had to admit Nico was right, it was efficient. I smiled for Mia’s benefit, adding, “Will you be at the event?”

  She blushed and shook her head. “Not this time. I have other plans, unfortunately.”

  “More’s the pity,” I said, letting the innuendo drop between us before drawing a regretful breath and pocketing the invite. “Do you work on commission?”

  Her cheeks pinked a little. “I receive a small bonus for sales,” she admitted.

  I grinned and tossed down my black Amex card. “Then, I’ll need to buy a case of your Riserva. I know my father will go nuts over it.”

  She flushed with pleasure and nodded as she prepared the paperwork to finish the sale. I had the case shipped to my father with the simple message, “A preview of your newest obsession,” and then with a smile left the gift shop with a plan forming.

  I needed to get closer to Alessandra and this event tonight was just the venue I needed to make my move.

  There were certain things in life that were irrefutable:

  1) In spite of the recent spate of flat-earthers squawking to the contrary, the earth was, in fact, round.

  2) No matter race, religious background or gender, everyone had a price.

  And finally...

  3) Women couldn’t resist a Donato in a tuxedo.

  I chuckled at my private wisdom and headed for my hotel room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Alessandra

  UNA NOTTE MAGICA was an event my family held every year to celebrate a successful harvest. We spent a lot of money to ensure the attendees remembered the Baroni name. It was advertising at its most obscene. I tolerated it because business was more than just making sure your product was superior, it was also about making connections within your community and circle of influence.