Decadent (Dirty Sexy Rich 3)

“I admit to nothing,” Nonno said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. He waited for me to take my seat before taking his own and I wished my nonna was still here to enjoy luncheons like this with the man of her dreams. Their love story was something that always made me privately sigh, even if I didn’t believe it could happen in today’s world. Once settled, Nonno snapped his linen napkin across his lap and went straight to business. “The tasting is soon. Are you prepared, patatina?”

A small smile warmed my lips at the endearment. “Yes, Nonno. I am as prepared as I can possibly be without knowing the future. The private tasting went very well. I believe wholeheartedly that Uva Persa will have a huge impact on the future of Baroni wine but only God knows for sure.”

Pleased, Nonno nodded and poured a crisp white into our glasses. He raised his glass with an affirmative jerk of his chin. “Then so be it. It is out of our hands. It will be what it will be.”

I blinked back sudden moisture. My nonno’s faith in me was humbling and terrifying. What if I failed? What if I let everyone down and this venture turned out to be foolhardy and ultimately sent our legacy tumbling into ruin? I swallowed the lump of fear congealing in my throat and forced myself to smile against the urge to cry. “I love this spot. It was always Enzo’s favorite.”

“Yes, the sun hits the vines perfectly. Enzo always had a love for the vines but perhaps not the head for business, unlike you, patatina.”

I met my grandfather’s gaze, chuckling ruefully at how terribly transparent I must be if he saw through me so easily. “Is it so obvious that I’m afraid of failing us all?”

Nonno shrugged as if failure wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a person. “You cannot win if you don’t first try, and to try you have to face the reality that you might fail.” Such simple wisdom was my grandfather’s hallmark, something my father had never truly grasped. He sighed as he poured the olive oil and grabbed some bread to sop it up. “Enzo may have had the vision but he never would’ve gone against your father to plant his dream, not like you. You are bold and aggressive, which is exactly what the blood needs to survive in the new environment. It is not the same as when I was a young man, nor when your father was young. This is not a bad thing. Change is necessary to evolve, and frankly, our industry has been suffering from rot for a long time. Not enough nutrients in the soil to grow quality grapes. The wine suffers. You know this.”

I did know this—I knew it by heart as it was an argument I’d held regularly with my father when I’d been trying to convince him to partner with me on the new varietals. “What made you decide to take a chance on me, Nonno?”

My grandfather smiled as if I were blind. “Why wouldn’t I? I am an old man. What chance do I have to make a difference now aside from helping those who might have the opportunity to effect real change? You are that change, the new guard. I am honored and privileged to be some small part of this change. Besides, what am I to do with money? I cannot take it with me and my needs are met so I might as well do some good with it while I can.”

Why couldn’t my father have been as wise? I smiled in return with gratitude as my gaze drifted out toward the countless rows of the recently harvested vines. Even as my grandfather’s confidence buoyed me, a small snippet of doubt wormed its way into my head. “Nonno, why am I so scared? I know in my heart this is the right decision, but I still worry that I’m being foolish and my ego is in charge, which is never a good navigator.”

“Bah, don’t underestimate the importance of a healthy ego. You have to believe in yourself in order to take a big risk. My girl, let me ease your fears. I love you. I love you with all the breath in my body but if I hadn’t believed in your proposal, I wouldn’t have invested with you. It’s that simple. Love is love, but business is still business.”

I laughed. Once again, simple logic at its best. “True.” But it made me think of Dante and how business was all he had, which felt incredibly sad. “Nonno...an American wanted to buy Baroni. I turned him down.” Nonno wasn’t impressed, which I knew he wouldn’t be—as I told Dante many had offered and we always sent them away. But there was more to Dante and I needed to talk to someone about my feelings. “His name is Dante Donato. Does that ring a bell? He says his family built our manor in the thirteenth century. I have done the research and his boast is accurate. He offered an obscene amount of money for our winery. Of course, the money means nothing but it seemed curious timing given our new venture. Do you think he knew about Uva Persa?”

“Donato...” Nonno rolled the name on his tongue and his gaze narrowed in thought. “Yes, actually, the name is familiar. I knew a Donato long ago. Brash, boastful and with the worst taste in wine. You were right to send him packing.”

I laughed. “Yes, well, Dante seems to have improved on his predecessor but he is still boastful.” And sexy, and one helluva a kisser. I blushed privately, drawing a deep breath, but my nonno’s eyes were sharp. I shook my head, stopping him before he could start. “I am not interested in Dante. Intrigued, yes, but nothing more than that. He entertains me.”

“Ah, patatina, remember love happens when we least expect it.”

I barked a short laugh. “Nonno, hush your mouth. The last thing I want to worry about is some man falling in love with me. I have enough on my plate.”

He chuckled. “Have I ever told you the story of how I met your nonna?”

“Many times.” My favorite story ever, but I indulged him. “But you can tell me again if you like.”

“Well, she was the most amazing creature I’d ever seen. A radiant force of nature. Her dark auburn hair had flecks of amber left behind by the sun’s kisses. Her dark eyes were like large pools of black glass and that mouth, well, it was magnificent.”

I didn’t want to think of my beloved grandparents getting dirty together, but appetites didn’t spring from the ground. They had to come from somewhere and I could only imagine how my spirited Italian grandparents had been in their youth.

“Of course you fell in love at first sight. Nonna was jaw-droppingly beautiful.”

“Yes, yes, but it was not mutual,” Nonno shared, shocking me. This was not part of the story I knew. He shook his head. “No, she had no interest in me. None. In fact, she thought I was a selfish prick.”

I was shocked. “No,” I protested, unable to believe this version of my family’s love story. “Nonna always talked about how she loved you.”

“Yes, yes, later. She came to love me but I had to win her love. Of course, I did, but it was smart to woo her. I’d never had to put so much effort into winning a woman. It was good for me. Nothing easily won is worth having, that was the lesson I learned very early with your nonna. And boy, was she ever worth having.” A wistful pause followed before he added with a soft smile filled with yearning. “I miss her every day.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “Me, too. No one can make linguine like Nonna could, not even Como’s mama and she’s pretty good.”

Nonno smiled with pride, knowing this was true. “Every single day I wonder why God took her from me. But it is not for me to question, eh?”

My grandparents were good, strong Roman Catholics. Nothing shook their faith, not even tragedy. I wish I had their conviction, their belief in something bigger than themselves. A part of me was still angry with God for taking Enzo so young even though I knew I shouldn’t admit to something so blasphemous.

“I don’t know, Nonno,” I admitted. “I suppose Nonna would remind us that God works in mysterious ways.”

He nodded, agreeing. “That she would. She was a good woman. Strong in her faith. Sometimes I am weak.” He drew a deep breath, nodding in memory. “My point, beautiful Alessandra, is that sometimes love comes when we think we aren’t ready, but God always knows when the time is right.”

I wasn’t religious—well, of course,

I was raised Catholic but I wasn’t a good Catholic by any means. Nonna, God rest her soul, would’ve been horrified by how few times I’d actually attended Mass since her passing. I simply didn’t have time, but I could only hope God would understand and forgive my absence. “Well, I definitely don’t have the time nor the interest in love, even though I do adore yours and Nonna’s love story and I never tire of hearing it.” Even with the shocking new details, I thought privately. “Besides, I am far too busy with the launch of Uva Persa to even fathom adding another complication. The idea even gives me gray hair.”

“You like him. I can see it in your eyes, patatina.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No, you see someone who is hungry,” I replied, reaching for the bread and the fresh garlic. I winked as I scooped the garlic onto the bread, before sopping it with olive oil, saying, “Love, hunger—the same.” Then, with great flourish, I enjoyed my mouthful.

Nonno took my cue and dropped the subject and we finished our luncheon. Nothing was more precious to me than spending time with my nonno. I could always count on him for snippets of wisdom or entertaining anecdotes; but even as I adored time with my grandfather, the contrast between my relationship with my father was a bittersweet one. Enzo’s death had been so traumatic for our family, it fractured our framework so terribly that it was impossible to return to our original state. I feared I’d always wonder if my father loved Enzo more than me.

“Nonno, what if...” The words were stuck in my throat. Fear of the answer stopped me. I looked to my grandfather, my eyes welling against my control. He reached over and placed his gnarly, soft hand on mine, squeezing gently. I nodded, swallowing.

Some things weren’t meant to be said. The weight of the question and the potential answer were equally crushing.

“Thank you for lunch, Nonno,” I said, smiling against the flutter in my stomach.