It was Hollywood glam at its finest. Excessively formfitting, it clung lovingly to every inch of her body. Its spaghetti straps and low neckline emphasized her cleavage, while the back dipped almost to her waist. And the beading. It was magical, sparkling from every centimeter of the dress like hundreds of tiny diamonds.
She was not the princess, believer-of-fairy-tales type. But this dress put her first real smile of the day on her lips. She was ready now. The game was on.
She glanced at the clock. Six-fifteen. Time for her to walk Gabe through the grounds and make sure everything was perfect. She slipped on matching champagne-colored stilettos and her only pair of real diamonds—her very real two-carat drop earrings. They sparkled in the light like white fire. Any guilt she’d felt for keeping the earrings Jordan had given her had long disappeared with the knowledge they reminded her of his betrayal. Reminded her never to make that mistake with a man again.
She never would.
Her legs shook slightly as she took her first step down the stairs. The fact that she was headed toward Gabe might have something to do with it. Would he think she looked beautiful? Or would he think she was a messed-up piece of work after last night?
Not that he would be wrong on that.
She paused by his office door. He sat at his desk reviewing some papers, looking devastatingly severe in an exquisitely tailored tux that played up his dark good looks. She stood there silently, drinking him in. And realized there wasn’t one centimeter of him she didn’t want. From his complexity carved by the need to prove himself in a family of titans to the undeniably hot body and sex appeal. She wanted it all. And in that moment, she knew where her nervousness had been coming from all day.
She’d made her decision.
Gabe looked up, as if sensing her. His expression was distracted, his broad shoulders tense under the beautifully fitting jacket. He focused, zoned in on her, subjected her to an inspection that brought every nerve ending raging to life.
He stood up. Walked around the desk. “Determined to break some hearts tonight?”
“I don’t let men close enough to break their hearts.”
He joined her at the door, besting her by a good three inches even in her heels. “I think I’m going to say my suggestion expires tonight.”
She lifted a brow. “You’re putting a time limit on it?”
He dipped his chin. “Sì.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he admitted roughly, “I can’t take it anymore.”
* * *
She walked Gabe through the grounds, every step she took punctuated by the insistent drumbeat of her heart. The vineyard looked stunning, fire and light blazing from every corner. Torches burned at the end of the long, sweeping driveway to greet the guests, the cocktail area on the main patio was lit by lanterns and the vineyard itself was cast in spotlight as it meandered its way up the hill. It felt magical. As if fairies had visited and set everything aglow.
A four-piece band played jazz on the patio, mixologists waited to create individualized cocktails for the guests and staff stood ready to give VIP tours of the winery. Even the recalcitrant Champagne fountain was working, shooting a stunning golden spray into the air.
“All in all, a rather Dionysian feel, if I do say so myself,” she murmured to Gabe.
“It looks fantastic. Do you think Janine will put in an appearance?”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Are you okay with everything, then? Happy?”
“I will be at midnight, when this is all over and people are raving about my wine.”
She studied the tension in his broad shoulders. “They will be,” she said softly. “It’s a brilliant wine, Gabe. Relax and enjoy the moment.”
She left him to ensure her beautiful young staff were at their station near the front gates, ready to meet the guests. They stood with beautifully embossed boxes containing each guest’s scientifically chosen match, written in calligraphy on a blue card—De Campo blue. “You are not to be connected with,” she reminded them firmly. They were eye candy—meant to inspire—nothing more. At too many of her parties she’d found them being admired by a guest in a basement closet. Or snorting a banned substance with a politician in the bathroom.
Not happening tonight.
The guests began to arrive like clockwork, one after another, in limos, dark sedans and even a motorcycle draped with a denim-clad Silicon Valley millionaire. “Black tie,” the invites had said, but who was she to reject Jared Stone? His rebel persona was worth a fortune and anything he did made news. “Enjoy your match, Mr. Stone,” she said smiling and handing him his notecard. “Make sure you seek her out.”
She knew exactly whose name was on the card. It was the one and only match she’d tampered with, because to have Jared hook up with a top–one hundred pop singer at her party? Priceless.
When the bulk of the guests had arrived, she found Gabe to do his introductory remarks. He’d refused her help on them, of course, insisting that he had it. And as she listened to him begin, her mouth curved. He did.
“Eight years ago I came to California with the dream of making a De Campo wine on Napa soil that was every bit as brilliant as the Tuscan wines my family has been making for over a hundred years. To create a wine that possessed all those attributes but also had that unique, mellow beauty of a Napa Valley wine. No problem, I thought,” he drawled, flashing that brilliant masculine smile of his she was sure felled every female in the crowd instantly, “I’ve got this.” He paused, a rueful expression crossing his face. “Well, how wrong I was. It took six seasons before this vineyard produced a wine I considered worthy of the De Campo name. But somewhere along the way we got it right. We harvested what I knew was here all along. And tonight you will get to taste the fruit of that labor—The Devil’s Peak.” He raised his glass. “We think it’s brilliant and we hope you agree. Salute! And enjoy your evening.”
She swallowed hard, a burning sensation at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t have written anything more impactful. Could not have captured his passion the way he had. And in the end, for a great speech, that was all that mattered.
The evening flowed smoothly after that. Almost every guest on their list had showed up, an eclectic mix of Silicon Valley types, wine bloggers, politicians, the arts crowd and the business elite. To her surprise, almost everyone seemed curious to seek out their match, incentive or no incentive. There was lots of networking going on and even a couple of flirtations, one of which was Jared Stone and Briana Bergen, the stunning German pop singer she’d handpicked for him.
They were standing close to each other at the bar now, his hand on her bare arm. Alex’s mouth curved. How predictable men were. All it took was a busty blonde and the right opportunity.
She tipped a photographer off to the liaison, watched as he took off in glee to capture the shot, then added a couple of extra staff to the bars to deal with the lines.
The sight of Gabe talking to Darya Theriault and her husband, who had to be ten years older than she, had her lingering by the bar. Gabe’s face was blank, a painfully polite smile touching his mouth. Darya’s husband had a possessive arm around her back, and the blonde, who Alex had to grudgingly admit was stunning with her platinum hair and blue eyes, was eating Gabe up.
Jealousy searing through her, she tore her gaze away. Had Gabe broken her heart as he had a string of other women’s? A suitable reminder to guard her own, she told herself. Self-protection was definitely an asset when it came to the De Campo men.
She made herself busy, and by the end of the evening she was ready to drop. One more media interview, the big reveal and fireworks and they were done. She could hardly believe it as she sought out the notoriously tricky wine columnist for San Francisco’s largest daily newspaper. Three weeks of insanity and here they were, an hour away from success.
She located Georges Abel and led him down into the cellar where the interview with Gabe would take place. The corridor echoed as they walked down it, the hallways even darker and spookier at night. The click of a woman’s heels had her spinning around.
No one was behind them.
“Did you hear that?” she hissed to Georges.
The big Frenchman gave a wary nod. She turned around and kept walking.
Click, click, click.
They both spun around again. No one. Alex’s heart thumped in her chest. What the hell? u can download from dpg no other forum thanks
Georges made a joke about her trying to scare him off before the interview. She laughed, but it was a hollow, petrified cackle. Oh, my God. Was Janine Courtland walking around down here? She led Georges into the tasting room, her knees knocking together. Gabe and Georges shook hands.
“Janine Courtland is walking around,” she hissed to Gabe.
He gave her a frowning look as if to say this wasn’t the time for jokes. “We both heard it. I wasn’t imagining it. It was a woman’s shoes.”
“I told you this was the night that might bring her out,” he murmured facetiously, and sat down with Georges. She sat at the table and half listened, a tremor running through her. Was Janine prowling around? And what did she want?
The chat went smoothly until Georges started probing about Antonio in a fascinated, lengthy fashion that was disproportionate to the subject at hand. Gabe humored him at first, but as the conversation went on she could see him growing more short fused.