He cursed, checked his blind spot and accelerated into the left-hand lane, which appeared equally blocked, but the movement at least made him feel as though he was doing something.
“Maledizione,” he muttered. “I should have stayed in the city last night.”
“One of San Francisco’s most eligible bachelors, devoid of a date on a Thursday night?” His brother Riccardo’s taunting voice sliced through the high-tech speakerphone.
“I was at an industry party.” He scowled at the tinny box. “Mention the bachelor thing one more time and you’ll be talking to empty air.”
His brother chuckled. “I’m just jealous I never made the list.”
As if. Riccardo had dated five times a man’s usual share of the styled-down-to-their-pinkie women who inhabited the island of Manhattan and it hadn’t been until he’d met Lilly and fallen flat on his face for her that the parade had ended. His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “They probably figured they were doing the female population a favor.”
“Maybe so.” Humor flavored his brother’s response. “Speaking of women, talk to Matty lately?”
“No.” It struck him as strange now that he thought about it. Matty and Gabe were close and usually talked once a week. “What’s up?”
“A woman, I think. He won’t talk about it. You should call him.”
Gabe wasn’t sure his cynical attitude of late was going to be of much use to his younger brother. Matty was the Don Juan of his generation—he thought love made the world go around. Gabe wasn’t sure how he’d acquired that notion in their particular family, but that was for Matty to figure out. Not his problem. Matty’s issue was likely of the which-one-do-I-pick variety, anyway.
“What happened to the Olympian?”
“I don’t know. He hung up shortly after I asked him if her flexibility was useful in bed.”
“You don’t say?”
His brother’s tone turned businesslike. “How are the events going, by the way? Do you need me in Napa or can I just do NYC?”
Gabe’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “They’re getting there. We’re working through some kinks at the moment.” He checked his rearview mirror and moved back to the center lane. “New York’s fine. I can handle Napa.”
“Bene. The doctor said to keep a close eye on Lilly for the next few weeks.”
“You should be there,” Gabe muttered distractedly, his brain on five hundred people at his vineyard in three weeks. “How did Marco take the news of a little brother?”
“He’s estatico. Already picking out which trains his little brother can and cannot use.”
Gabe smiled. “Already a De Campo.”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
“Nessuna.” Marco was an exuberant brute of a little boy so much like his father and the rest of the De Campo brothers it was like watching one of them as a child. Gabe was glad the little guy was going to have a brother, because his had been a lifeline in a childhood marked by his parents’ coldness. His father’s survival-of-the-fittest regime had reigned supreme in Montalcino, his mother’s lack of interest in her children blatantly apparent. A business merger between two important families did that to the family dynamic.
“I heard,” Riccardo said evenly, “that Alex flew over there to do the events.”
Gabe grimaced. “I fired the PR firm. They were spewing out garbage that was all wrong for the brand.”
“Three weeks before launch?”
“It wasn’t working.”
“So you’re letting Alex step in?”
“I’m thinking about it.” Truth was, Alex’s portfolio was brilliant. The campaigns she’d included had all been for established brands launching products with breakout potential. Just like The Devil’s Peak. Not only had her campaigns been sophisticated and clever with the big buzz potential he was looking for, they’d also been exactly the tone and feel he’d wanted in the last PR agency’s ideas.
“The board is only giving me so much leeway with the Napa investment.” Riccardo’s quietly worded warning came through the speaker. “At some point they’re going to rein us in, and I’d prefer that time be when you’ve had a chance to make things happen and they’re compelled to keep investing.”
Gabe stiffened. “You think I’m not well aware of that?”
“A launch event is a launch event, fratello, not the second coming of Christ. Get it done. Don’t let yourself get in the way of your success.”
Old animosities surged to life—charged, destructive forces that skimmed just beneath the surface. If he’d inherited his father and grandfather’s wine-making brilliance and the ability to play with the chemistry of a wine until it melted on the tongue, Riccardo had mastered the ability to see the big picture. It was the one trait, Gabe was sure, that had catapulted his brother over him to CEO, aside from the fact that Riccardo was the eldest, and Antonio was traditional to the hilt.
He scowled. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
“No,” his brother said matter-of-factly. “I’m saying we’re treading close to the line.”
Which was true. He’d seen the latest profit-and-loss statements for the Napa operations and they weren’t pretty. They weren’t meeting profit targets they’d established at launch eight years ago and there were reasons for that, yes, like the fact that The Devil’s Peak and his other star wine had matured faster than they’d expected and he’d invested in bringing them to market. But the board didn’t know they were about to reap huge financial rewards. To them, he was a number.
He let out a long breath. “These risks we’re taking—they’re going to pay off. You know that.”
“There isn’t a doubt in my mind.”
The quiet confidence in his brother’s reply made him sink his head back against the headrest. “Dispiace,” he murmured. “It’s been quite a week.”
“Get yourself laid. It’ll help.”
“I’m too busy to get laid.”
“A man is never too busy to get laid.”
The gospel according to Riccardo. Gabe shook his head. “Do you have a problem with me hiring Alex?”
“I’m staying out of this particular discussion,” his brother returned dryly. “Better to leave it to your impartial judgment rather than face my wife’s wrath. But I will say, I’ve heard she is the best in the business.”
Gabe wouldn’t describe his attitude toward Alex as impartial, particularly after last night. But this wasn’t personal, it was business.
He and Riccardo debated which quarterback would prevail in the weekend’s football game, arranged to talk after Gabe’s meeting tomorrow with a restaurant chain they’d been courting and signed off.
Traffic started to move. He put his foot down on the accelerator and forced himself to focus on the decision at hand. Hiring Alex was the right thing to do. She might be the only person who could save him. The fact that she made his blood pressure rise by about ten points just by being in the same room shouldn’t have anything to do with it. And yet...the feel of her soft, lush mouth under his last night slammed into his brain with a force that was distinctly off-putting. The hazy desire in her big blue eyes when she’d pulled away. That was what was making him hesitate. Alex’s ability to get under his skin.
She was the type of woman you took to bed once, got out of your system then banished from your head forever. But given their familial ties, he couldn’t do that. He had to see her on a regular basis. So he’d restrained himself. Until that night in Lilly and Riccardo’s garden. Until last night. And even though he’d now assured himself she’d be spectacular in bed, she was off-limits. It pained him to admit it—but he needed her. In a couple of hours she’d be working for him. And if there was one thing he never did, it was mix business with pleasure.
* * *
Alex was two large coffees into an official snit when Gabe deigned to make an appearance at his airy warehouse office space in downtown San Francisco. It had surprised her at first, the modernity of the building, given De Campo’s historic lineage, but Gabe, his chatty PA Danielle had told her, was contemporary both in his design taste and in the way he chose to make his wines in Napa, using a blend of new and old-world techniques.
She sat up straighter in the cream-colored leather chair, her senses switching to high alert. Gabe was dressed in another of those beautifully tailored suits, this time a charcoal-gray that made his green eyes pop, and it took her pulse from zero to fifty in a second flat.
His gaze slid over her. “Scusa. Traffic was murder.”
She bit her tongue. “No worries.”
“Buongiorno,” he murmured to Danielle, requesting an espresso and for her to move his next meeting, before waving Alex into his office, an equally large, open space that offered a superb view of the city.
She sat down in the chair he pointed to and took in the hard line of his jaw. “You’re not going to give me the job.”
He shut the door, walked around the desk and sat down opposite her. “I want to get a few things straight before I give you my answer.”