Since he’d moved out over a year ago, she stayed with him every other week, which gave him limited glimpses into her life. The weeks she was with him she was an angel—if teenagers could ever be angels. She was safe and out of trouble at least. But the weeks with her mother, like this week, had become increasingly problematic. He blamed it on Ava’s new boyfriend and her penchant for going out more than staying home.
The second the call picked up he’d heard a chorus of “shhhs” followed by the lowering of music. She had been having a party. Girlfriends doing makeup and watching movies, he presumed. Then a deep voice said her name. He recalled the conversation like it was happening all over again.
“Papà?” Her voice was apprehensive.
“Why is a boy answering your phone?”
“He was just being stupid, Papà. It’s not what you think.”
“It better not be what I think, Sophia. Where’s your mother?”
“Um—” giggles in the background “—upstairs in the bath?”
“Go get her.”
“She’ll be mad if I interrupt.”
“Stop lying to me. I’m calling her right now.”
“No, don’t! Okay, she’s not here. She’s out with Bruno. But she’ll be back later. I’m fine.”
“Who is there watching you?”
“I don’t need a chaperone, Papà. It’s just a few friends, we’re watching a scary movie.”
“You hate scary movies.”
“Not anymore.” He bet that boy just loved scary movies.
“I want everyone out of that house and I’m sending Nonna to check on you,” he said over her whining protests. “I’m coming home tomorrow and we are going to discuss this with your mother when I get back.”
After a quick call to his mother, she agreed to drive the twenty minutes from her country home into the city. He sent a scathing text to Ava and received no response. Yeah, the three of them were going to have a serious sit-down when he got home. Toni sighed his frustration just as the car pulled into the shipping lot behind the warehouse. He jumped out and quickly crossed to the large building.
Toni heard the echo of the argument the minute he walked through the freight entrance. Skirting trucks and small forklifts, he propped his bags on a tall stack of wine crates and shouted hello to the operations manager, who stopped his crate packing and jerked his head in the direction of the commotion. Toni quickened his pace to the front of the store.
Andrea Gomez of Star restaurant group had shown up expectantly without an appointment and, by the way her voice was rising, seemingly irate. Toni stopped just at the threshold to button his suit jacket, then realized with a sigh that he wasn’t wearing it, opting for only a navy T-shirt and trousers for his trip back to Milan.
He debated running back to the town car sitting idle in the shipping lot, then thought against it. There was no time. He needed to catch that earlier flight, needed to get home to his daughter. A shrill female voice pulled him over the threshold into their show and tasting room.
“Do you hear what I’m saying? I’ll pay retail if I have to, just get me something that won’t embarrass me!” Andrea’s hair was wild and she had both of her hands on the counter as if she was going to jump over it. The wineglasses lined up on the tasting bar trembled, as did Louis, who had taken a step back and was clutching the bottle in his hand like a life raft.
“Andrea,” Toni said, his arms wide and voice jubilant, making sure to pronounce her name with extra Italian flair. “On-drea-uh,” a sexier spin on the American “Ann-dree-uh.” He kissed her on both cheeks.
“Antonio! Oh, I had no idea you were in town.” Andrea immediately straightened and jammed her fingers through her hair.
Louis visibly relaxed.
“When I heard you were here, I had to come. You look ravishing.” Andrea’s lids fluttered and she shifted nervously in her big coat, sweatpants and Uggs. It was almost 10 a.m. and Toni could only assume Andrea was not having a good morning.
Toni took her shaky hand in his, steadying her erratic behavior and demonstrating that the drunken kiss she’d laid on him several months ago at a wine conference in Verona did nothing to harm their business relationship. Not that he would have minded a night with her, but he never mixed business with pleasure. “I was only here a few days. I’m on a flight back this morning. Now, bella, what has happened that has you in such a state?” He was laying it on thick, but if he was going to get this done in ten minutes, he needed her attention.
“I’m hosting a wedding tonight for the mayor’s daughter at John-Duc and those Figgertons sent me cases of spoiled wines. They are like vinegar! This is the mayor’s daughter—it could ruin me!” Andrea’s face reddened with every word.
Toni knew the Figgertons well. A distributor of self-proclaimed “elegant” wines from smaller less known vineyards. Which appealed to a hipster sensibility of indie winemaking, but Toni knew it really meant the wines were less traceable, amateur at best and definitely not worth the price he knew Andrea had paid.
“You know I would have come to you, Toni, but she’s a vegan hippie and insisted on small vineyards, as if this woman knows anything about wine, and—”
Toni stopped her and urged her to take a deep breath. His specialty was in fine wines from more established vineyards, vintners he knew personally. All had a reputation for the highest quality grapes, rich terroir, flawless production and generations of knowledge. It was a combination you could actually taste.
And as their distributor, he made sure they got the price they deserved. Discounts were for the Figgertons.
She was looking at him with doe eyes, as if she wanted to apologize for going somewhere else. It didn’t bother him that she didn’t come to him first. In fact, he was elated that he found an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Toni was personally representing his friend’s rebuilt winery in Brazil. Getting it in front of the mayor could be excellent for business.
“Louis, bring the Deschamps.”
“But, sir—”
“I know, Louis. Let’s have a taste.” Louis darted to the back and Toni watched Andrea’s gaze travel down his front. He inwardly urged Louis to hurry.
“So.” Andrea stepped forward, letting her coat fall open to reveal a white low-cut T-shirt, with a tiny coffee stain on the front. “How have you been?”
Louis had a new glass on the bar and a bottle of Deschamps Cab Franc open and poured in seconds. Andrea looked at the bottle, then at Antonio.
“This is a Deschamps. I can’t do a fine wine, the bride will never go for it.”
“This one is from the smaller biodynamic vineyard in Brazil.”
Andrea gasped. “Didn’t they have a fire?”
“Yes, but they have risen out of the ashes like a phoenix. Taste it.” Toni leaned in as she lifted the glass to her lips. “There is a story in that wine any hippie would love.”
Andrea swallowed and tried to hide her satisfaction, a tactic he knew she used for negotiation, but Toni had seen the pleasure in her eyes. She signaled for one more taste, which Toni approved by a slight nod.
“Hmm,” was all she said as she stared at the bottle. The forest green label etched in gold writing with trademarks and family seals meant...cha-ching.
Andrea was still trying to play it cool, but her Uggs were shifting. “Is this all you have to show me?”
“Of