Page 23 of She Belongs to Me

“You’re on, buster.” She threw me a look, even lifting her shades. She had a flirtatious way about her that was completely unassuming.

When I rounded another corner, the view of the acres of olive trees came into view and she gasped, even rising as much to her feet as possible to look over the edge of the convertible portion. “You own all this?”

“A few hundred acres.”

“Are they producing?”

“Of course, as well as our vineyards. Our corporation had always been fortified by the production of top-quality olive oil and almost fifteen years ago, I branched out into a winery. Up until then, I sold our grapes to a couple different producers. Since then, they’ve become award winning.”

“You’ve been holding out on me. I’ve read you were involved in both industries, but this is entirely different than anything I imagined.” Her teasing continued. “Stop the car.”

I slowed, pulling the Ferrari to a stop near a cluster of trees. Within seconds, she’d jumped out, immediately half jogging toward the center. She was obviously unused to seeing so much greenery. The little house her aunt had purchased had the typical quarter acre of land with a single tree and several azaleas. There were parks in her area, like the one she’d called from on that first night, but as a medical student, I knew she hadn’t done much but go to class and study.

Maybe being here would broaden her horizons.

I took my time trailing after her. When I was a kid, I used to come here to think and plan, dreaming for my future, but after taking over, I almost never made a trip here. I had people to take care of the trees, harvesting the olives and getting the massive production to our various plants. I trusted them. My brother was also in charge of that portion of my business, my sister taking the helm of the vineyard and winery.

We used to squabble all the time as a family. We were now more cohesive together, acting as a family and a corporation. Because of that, we’d grown the business by fivefold.

She was almost skipping from tree to tree. If the spanking had bothered her, I couldn’t tell it. At least she seemed more relaxed.

“How old are these trees?” she asked when I walked close enough to hear her.

“We’ve lost a few over the years in storms and a fire, but for the most part, they live as many as five hundred years. This patch is very old, here long before my father was born. The next one over are newer but maturing nicely.”

“Incredible. I’d love to see where you make the olive oil one day.”

Almost everything about her surprised me. “You would?”

“Absolutely. I’ve been stuck in dissecting cadavers to the point I’d prefer to learn about other living things. Flowers. Plants. Trees.”

“Then I can make that happen. Why don’t we go see the vineyards? I think my brother told me the next harvest is less than two weeks away.”

“You have a brother?” She seemed shocked.

It had never dawned on me that she had no idea about my family. It had never come up and I honestly hadn’t believed there would be a need. “Yes, Domino. He’s a bit younger and more of a rebel like you. But he’s a tree whisperer, able to know the perfect moment when the olives have reached their peak ripeness. I also have a sister, Isabella, who could be my twin. She’s very studious, learning everything about the craft of making wine.”

Alexandra blinked a few times. I could tell she was uncertain what to say. They weren’t exactly her family, but I sensed she felt some angst. Of course, they knew about her and the fact she was my ward. They’d asked some questions over the years, but had eventually stopped asking if they could meet her. I hadn’t thought about that. They’d make a big deal over her arrival. Great. A party. Just what I hated.

“Your mother and father? Did you say something about your father dying?”

I nodded and moved closer, the scent of her perfume inflaming my nostrils. As she brushed hair from her face, she was searching my eyes.

“Yes, he died of a heart attack. Nothing menacing. He was in good shape, which shocked all of us, but evidently had an underlying heart condition. My mother is alive and spunky, refusing to come live with any of her children. She has a house on the grounds. That allows her privacy and some autonomy while we can check on her regularly. She will never admit to being old.”

“It sounds like I might like her.” She scooted closer, definitely too close, now only inches away. The moment was difficult, more so than I would have thought.

But we remained where we were, doing nothing more than gazing into each other’s eyes. I had to break the crazy mesmerizing moment. “You’ll get to meet them. Just be careful. They might fall in love with you. Trust me, Italian families can be overbearing.”

“Since I’ve never had that, it might be nice for a change.”

“Aunt Kim wasn’t warm?”

“Not at first. But over time things changed. But she wasn’t gushy like she told me my mother was. I have no clue. She didn’t want to talk about my mother.”

“Your mother was very much like you,” I told her. “Beautiful and intelligent, funny; she wrapped your father around her little finger within days.”

She was thoughtful about what I was telling her as we headed back to the car. “I miss her and I don’t even know her.”