And it wasn’t just the broken equipment in the winery.
Enzo had been grouchy with Sylvie and he hadn’t meant to be. In fact, that was the very opposite of how he meant to act around her. Until that unforgettable night in Paris, she had been one of his closest friends.
Even though he had been busy doing everything he could to market his wine to new stores and foreign vendors, he always made time for her. Sylvie’s smile was contagious and lightened his darkest days. Meeting up with her had always been the highlight of his day. Then he’d gone and mucked everything up.
Why hadn’t he just been a gentleman and walked away after she’d kissed him? Because he couldn’t. The magnetic pull between them had been something he’d never felt before.
And that night in Paris, wow. That night had been amazing. He still thought of it when he was alone in bed and sleep was evading him, as it did often these days.
The question was how did he get things back on track with Sylvie? He missed their friendship, but every time he was around her, words didn’t come out the way he meant them to. And now when she looked at him, he felt even guiltier not only for the night in Paris but also for now taking her home and job. If only she’d let him help her get resettled somewhere else, he would feel better. In fact, he intended to talk to her about it tonight at the dinner she’d insisted on preparing.
He checked the time. It was almost eight. How did it get to be so late? He knew he better head up to the guesthouse before she thought he’d forgotten about dinner. The last thing he needed was to make things even worse between them. They were bad enough already.
And so he set off for the guesthouse where Sylvie was now living and working. He could fix things. He wouldn’t give up until she listened to reason.
As he neared the guesthouse, his thoughts turned to its prior resident. His youngest sister, Gia, had stayed here after their parents had died. Only she hadn’t stayed here long. It seemed to him that she couldn’t get away from the estate fast enough, first to find her biological father, who turned out to be a total and utter jerk, and then finally to move permanently to the island of Lapri with some guy she barely knew. But who was he to judge?
He’d believed everything his parents had told them without question. And when he’d overheard something that conflicted with his illusion of the perfect family, he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. He’d failed his sisters. And he’d failed himself.
Enzo stepped up to the door of the guesthouse and rapped his knuckles on the heavy wood. When a few moments passed and Sylvie hadn’t answered, he knocked louder. Still nothing. He moved to the side of the door and peered inside the window. It was dark in the front room. He figured she was in the kitchen at the back of the little house and hadn’t heard him.
He walked to the back door and knocked. Still, there was no answer. What was up with that? He searched his memory and was certain she’d invited him to dinner tonight. He backed up and noticed there were no lights on back here, either. Was it possible he’d gotten his wires crossed? Had she meant the main house?
Not wanting her to know just how distracted he was these days, his pride refused to allow him to text her. He’d just walk up to the main house and pretend that was where he’d intended to go all along.
However, when he reached the back of the villa, it was dark inside, too. How could that be? Maybe he really had misconstrued what she’d told him.
Through the window in the door, he noticed the soft glow of the small light over the big farmhouse sink—his mother had always left on a light for his father when he’d worked late in the fields. As Enzo grasped the brass doorknob of the kitchen door, he gave himself a mental jerk. He tried not to think about his parents. Every time he did, his mood went south. That wouldn’t be fair to Sylvie, who had gone out of her way to make him dinner. At least he thought she had.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside. He moved to the kitchen and flipped on the lights. The kitchen was spiffed up and as he inhaled, he definitely detected some basil and tomato sauce. He had a feeling he was on to something.
As it was a bit chilly outside that evening, he was certain Sylvie wasn’t planning a terrace dinner. Perhaps she’d decided to utilize the dining room in order to use the long table to spread out her paperwork that she wanted to go over with him.
He started in that direction. However, when the doorway to the dining room came into sight, he noticed the door was almost closed while a flicker of soft light shone through the crack. Sylvie had planned a candlelight dinner for him?
As soon as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. He’d ruined any chance of anything romantic between them. Not that he was interested in starting a relationship. In fact, that was the last thing he wanted.
His personal life was a disaster. He might have won full ownership of the Bartolini estate but he’d lost what made it special—his family. In truth, he hadn’t even won control of it. He’d won out of default. His sisters didn’t want the place. They’d rather move far away and start over. Not that he could blame them after the way their lives had imploded upon finding their mother’s journal.
But he wasn’t going to think about that now. Right now he needed to make sure Sylvie hadn’t gotten the wrong idea about tonight’s dinner.
He pushed the door open. There was a single candle lit in the vast room. He squinted into the darkness. “Sylvie?”
The lights flicked on, momentarily blinding him.
“Surprise!” It wasn’t just Sylvie’s voice but a whole host of voices.
When his sight adjusted, he glanced around. Crowded into the dining room were all the workers from the vineyard as well as friends and neighbors. And then his gaze rested on Sylvie.
His jaw muscles tightened. He didn’t want to celebrate his birthday. Not at all.
But everyone looked at him with a big smile on their faces and expectation in their eyes. He was certain they all had better things to do with their time, but they’d taken time out of their lives to come here to celebrate his birthday. They didn’t know that this year of all years he didn’t have the heart to celebrate.
Still, he forced a smile to his face. Many of these people had worked for his family for decades. He owed them more than a fake smile, but it was the most he could do at this particular moment.
And then he w
as swallowed up in the moment. People were shaking his hand, clapping him on the back and wishing him a happy birthday.