The Italian's Unexpected Heir

He gave himself a mental shake. Nothing was simple when it came to Sylvie. It was more like complicated and confusing. But Vito had been right. She was doing everything in her power to sway his decision about the sale. It wasn’t going to work. But that didn’t keep him from wondering what she’d try next.

“Oh, there you are.” She joined him at the worktable.

“What did you need?”

“Did you happen to see the note I left you in the office?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t been in the house since this morning. I always make plans to stay far away on wedding days.”

“I don’t blame you.” It was the first time she’d said something like that.

“You make it sound like you don’t like the weddings.”

She shrugged. “I just know they get loud and congested. And if you don’t have to be there, it’s best to find a nice quiet corner of the estate. I know that’s what I’d do if I could.”

He wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell him. And he wasn’t in the mood to figure it out. But since she was here and before he forgot, he said, “Sylvie, we have to talk about the wedding business.”

When her gaze met his, there was a sadness in her eyes. The look tore at his gut. It felt like no matter what decision he made it was going to be the wrong answer for someone.

But Sylvie was smart and talented. She would land on her feet. And it wasn’t like he was planning to kick her to the curb. He would pay for her moving costs and her housing until she was able to get settled. He’d even help her find another job, not that he knew anything about weddings. Still, he would do what he could with job references and utilizing all of his contacts.

“What about it?” she asked in a softer voice than normal.

He sighed. This was so much harder than he’d imagined. “We need to set a final close date for the business.” When she didn’t say anything but instead stood there looking at him like he was the enemy, he said, “I’m sorry things worked out like this.”

He didn’t know what he expected—for her to yell at him or to stomp off. But she did neither of those things. She started naming off weddings from memory. They were weddings that stretched well into the next year. He knew canceling them would create a lot of drama for not only Sylvie but also the couples and their families. The guilt mounted.

“When you told me the estate was to be sold,” Sylvie said, “I started working out a plan. I spoke with a stellar wedding planner in Florence. She was willing to take on some of my clients. And the ones she couldn’t fit into her schedule, I plan to handle myself but with a different venue. I just have one final wedding here at the estate.”

“You did all of this already?”

She looked at him like, well, of course. “I couldn’t afford to wait around and hope something would change. We’re talking about the biggest day in someone’s life. I couldn’t ruin it and so I’ve been spending most of my time making alternative plans.”

“I bet it didn’t go well.”

She glanced away and shook her head. “There were a lot of upset people.”

“I’m sorry, Sylvie. I never meant to put you in such an awful position.” Once again he hadn’t been able to spare the feelings of someone he cared about. If only he’d thought of all the ramifications of selling the estate; maybe he could have made this easier on Sylvie. He wasn’t sure how and it really didn’t matter now. The damage was done. “What did you come here to tell me?”

She wrung her hands together. “There was an important phone call this morning, while you were out in the fields. I tried to reach you.”

His gut twisted up in a knot of worry. “Was it my sisters? Did something happen to one of them?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s nothing like that.”

He blew out a pent-up breath. “Then what was this important call?”

“It was about your big win in Paris.” She sent him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Word is out and Tuscany Views magazine wants your story.”

“My story?” He shook his head. “I don’t have a story. You told them to go away, didn’t you?” When she didn’t immediately answer, a feeling of dread came over him. “Sylvie, what did you do?”

“All they want is to speak with you and take some photos.”

“Impossible.”

“Why? You deserve this. You work hard around this vineyard.”

“Because...” His mind raced for a reason the interview and article were a bad idea, aside from the fact that he didn’t feel he was deserving. “Because this place isn’t set up for photos.”