Page 256 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

The path narrowed slightly, and he watched her step ahead of him. That was new, he realised. She always followed quietly behind, but in the winery she was bold. There was fire in her. Even now as they walked, she didn’t look over her shoulder—she simply led. There was more to his PA than he had realised. Well, he had found that out the night before. He’d been so close to making a mistake on the terrace, so close to kissing her. He both thanked and cursed his sense for returning in time to make her run from him, so hurried that she’d forgotten her glasses. The same glasses that he’d left on her desk and that she now wore. Glasses that she obviously didn’t need. He’d seen her read the label on the wine bottle. He’d watched her race away from the darkened terrace. Perhaps it was a style choice, but he greatly doubted that. It was yet another piece that didn’t quite fit into the puzzle of her that, for some reason, he desperately wanted to solve.

That was exactly why he had left so early this morning: he needed space from Celeste. Going to the lawyers had successfully pushed her from his mind for a short while, but only because finding out that the second will—a will that had been sent only to Emilio as per Valentina’s instruction—was valid had enraged him. If Enzo wanted to retain ownership of the vineyards, he had to find a way to invalidate the second will because his mother had indisputably left them to Emilio.

Enzo had no idea why his brother had kept the information secret for so long. Perhaps his visits to the vineyards had something to do with that. In any case, they had little contact, and he was certain if Emilio could have had the lawyers handle everything without ever letting Enzo know, he would have. Because he was a coward. It still didn’t explain their mother’s change of heart, however, and that betrayal weighed heavily on his mind. A constant hurt.

Enzo was angry that so much had been kept from him. He was angry at the mother he still loved and still missed for doing this. He couldn’t understand her motivations. He didn’t understand why Emilio was so set on ruining Perlano for him.

The vineyards meant a lot to all of them. Enzo had wonderful memories of protecting his mother from the wasps and spiders while she tended to the plants. If he wasn’t there with her, he visited with his father, who had taught him how to inspect the plants and winery.

Once when he was young, his father had placed Enzo on his shoulders and as far as he could see there were only grapevines. Every row laden with fruit.

‘One day, Enzo, all of this will be yours, and you alone will be responsible for our people. For our family and our history.’

The memory made Enzo miss his father so much his chest ached.

He didn’t realise where he was until they had walked into his office. How did Celeste know where it was? Had she been exploring? Searching through his home? Strangely, the thought wasn’t upsetting. And it should have been. He hadn’t shown her around for a reason. He didn’t trust people, generally. But it had already been a trying day, and he’d been barely holding on to his temper for most of it, so perhaps he simply had no more capacity for anger.

He walked to the window, looking out at the vineyards that stretched in an undulating sea of green. They had existed even before the company did. Not a lot of people realised just how much the De Luca history was tied to these vineyards, but he did.

‘Here you go,’ Celeste said, handing him a glass of grappa. The spirit was made in their estate in Piemonte. Just like his father, Enzo used to drink it as a digestif after his meal, taking a moment just for himself in the privacy of his office. It had been a long time since he’d indulged in the ritual, but now Celeste had given that to him again.

Enzo took a small sip, relishing the spicy, floral hints. The vineyards were part of who he was as they were for every conte before him. It didn’t matter what the second will said.

‘He’ll never have them,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘Who won’t have what?’

‘Emilio,’ he responded, turning to face Celeste, unsure of why he was telling her this. Maybe it was because he was already trying to hold back so much anger and disappointment that he didn’t have enough control left to stop the words spilling from his lips. ‘Emilio wants the vineyards. All of them. He is in possession of a second will that states they should belong to him, and he wishes to take them.’ Just like Emilio, always wanting to take what was Enzo’s. He’d succeeded with Gia; Enzo wasn’t about to let it happen again.

And what about his mother’s betrayal? All three of them were aware that his father had gifted the vineyards to her, but that she was expected to bequeath them to Enzo. It had been so in the first will. Why did she create the second? Why didn’t she warn him? Was he being punished for leaving? He couldn’t stay. Not after the affair. She had always said she understood that.

Enzo looked down into the narrow long-stemmed glass, at the nearly colourless liquid, caught between hurt and anger, and said, ‘I’ll make sure that he will never have them.’ After all, he was the conte. The vineyards were his.

The words made unease creep into Charlotte’s belly. She had dealt with possessive men before. Had run from them. If Enzo had a possessive streak, it was one more reason why what lay between them could only ever be an attraction that was never acted upon.

But she sensed that there was more to it than that. Enzo was so private, and so little of his personal life got out into the media that she didn’t even know what his relationship with his brother was like. And Enzo wouldn’t share more, she knew that. She was amazed he had shared so much with her already. Whatever was actually going on must be tearing him up, because she was certain it had been hurt that had flashed across his face before his expression hardened once more. It was possibly that brand-new vulnerability that had her speaking now, that had her wanting to offer comfort in some way.

‘I have a half sister,’ she said. ‘We grew up together, mostly. I was four when she was born. I had hoped we would be close. I was so young when she came into the world, so excited, and I kept waiting for her to be old enough that we could do things together, but that never happened. She made my life as unpleasant as she could as often as she could. You see, she was always a little bit jealous thatshewasn’t the firstborn. That I was the one meant to take over...’

‘Take over what?’

Charlotte looked up to see Enzo paying close attention, his glass ignored as he looked only at her, and she realised that she had almost slipped up and revealed too much. She couldn’t tell him that she was meant to have taken over her father’s business. There would be far too many questions—he might find out just how wealthy her family was. So she deflected.

‘It doesn’t matter. The point is the way siblings act out is usually just a symptom of another issue.’

Celeste had Enzo’s complete attention. He wanted her to keep talking, so to keep the atmosphere as it was, he picked up his glass of grappa and took a small sip, pleased to see Celeste do the same. It really had been a long time since he had shared a drink with anyone without having to conduct business, and here he was, doing it twice with Celeste in as many days.

‘Do you see much of your sister?’ He almost regretted asking the question when he saw the sadness in her face that she quickly covered up.

‘I don’t really see my family anymore.’

Why? He wanted to find out more. He didn’t understand this need. Why was he so intrigued? Why did he like the idea of knowing her?

What he did know was that he would much rather keep the focus on Celeste instead of saying any more about himself. He didn’t confide in people. He didn’t trust anyone enough to do so. His thoughts were safer if no one knew them.

But you did share your thoughts with her.

He couldn’t lie to himself; he had done so, and he did it without thinking. What was it about her?