The Perfect Someday (A standalone novel ~ Book three in The Mathews Family) (16 page)

“Suggestions?”

“Yes! Any suggestions you come up with. And my brother, my brother will be there too. I’m sure you’ll meet him this afternoon. But this morning…you are all mine.” The last four words rolled fluently from his tongue, smothered with a hint of insinuation. A cocksure grin tugged at his lips.

Amusement flickered in his eyes, studying her intently waiting for a reaction.
Typically, Tracy would have no problem being blunt when a man acted so arrogantly. It took every ounce of self-control, but she refrained from correcting him. No way in hell would she be
all his
.

The man exuded enough charismatic charm to make the average woman want to undress and fall straight into bed or at least gladly bend over his desk for an afternoon. But to Tracy, e
gotistical, over confident, and narcissistic were not qualities she found attractive in a man. No matter how good-looking.

“
I’m disappointed. I was hoping to meet with Mrs. Giovanni. Lisa speaks of her often.”

Amusement lingers in his eyes.
“I promise not to dissatisfy you.”

It’s going to be a very long day.

Tracy spent the morning touring the castle. The building itself was grand in nature and built of square design, surrounded by unspoiled character of the vineyard. They strolled the terraced gardens, stopping at one of several brushed iron tables and chairs scattered around the grounds, tucked amid dormant gardens. Warm weather would turn the brown twigs lush in the spring, wreathing the tables in white climbing roses, pink bougainvillea and a host of other colorful flowers. Between warding off constant petting and sexual undertones, she learned as much as possible about the property’s past and what the Giovanni’s expectations were for the future of the vineyard.

After lunch, Antonio
graciously offered her the use of an office directly across from his, stating he would be there for
anything
she needed.

The small room was located at the end of a long hall and came
complete with an antique desk crafted from an old wine tasting table and a wooden swivel chair. Tracy dug into files of paperwork, inputting and graphing out essential information into her laptop. After thirty minutes of facing a wall covered in muted grey and tan stone, she dragged the solid oak table across the ancient plank flooring and into the sunshine.

“That’s better.” She said looking out
the window at Tuscany’s fabled rolling hills and a neighboring castle in the distance. Tracy gripped the edge of the cumbersome table, giving it one last shove, slicing the pad of her middle finger on something beneath the edge.

“Shit,” s
he whimpered, jerking her finger and bringing it to her mouth. Tracy sucked the tip of her finger, attempting to stop the bleeding long enough to inspect the damage. Feeling a sliver with the tip of her tongue, Tracy pinched at the flesh trying to expose enough of the wood to grab it with her teeth, but unintentionally buried it deeper.

B
lood gushed down her finger, dripping onto the floor. Cradling her finger in her other hand, she stepped into the hall and peered into Antonio’s empty office. As she hurried toward the ladies room at the end of another hallway, red tinge began to soak into the rib sleeve of her cream colored turtleneck.

“Dam
n it.” Her soft swearing and clacking of heels echoed down the quiet corridor. She held her arms out further so not to drip blood on her new tweed skirt. Rounding the corner, Antonio stood with his back to her, grasping the handle of the backdoor leading to the vineyard.

The sliver began
to sting painfully. She looked down, pinching her finger tighter, hoping to stop the pain and the bleeding. “Antonio, can you please help me for a minute before you leave?”

“Are you
talking to me?” came a voice similar to Antonio’s.

The
deep quiet intensity in his tone, brought her eyes up to meet his in a flash. Catching one glimpse of his translucent stormy irises stopped her in her tracks. Tracy skid on the heel of her pump, nearly falling on her ass. Their gazes locked with mesmerizing force sending points of energy screaming through her veins. Her heart pound wildly in her chest, captured by his handsome masculine features. Rationality abandoned her. Tracy simply stood frozen, incapable of saying one word.

Unable to break old habits, s
he dragged an inquisitive gape over every inch of him, studying his bold handsome features. His gorgeous grey eyes narrowed in concentration, raking over her with unreserved slowness. She remained motionless, likening his collar length wavy hair and broad shoulders. The similarities he held to
The Italian
from her past were gut wrenchingly painful. Blistering heat welled in her chest.
Damn it! I never should’ve come here! Being in Italy is just making it worse.

Slowly, her feet slowly began to
move, bringing her nearer. The fixed stare he held on her face turned frigid. Tracy recoiled, shrinking like a desert flower in the hot sun, from the utter disdain growing tighter in his jaw.
Surely he’s not looking at me like that.

Dropping her eyes to the floor, she
slyly glanced to the left of her and then to the right. No one else stood near her.
Why the hell is he looking at me like he wants to rip my head off?

She
opened her mouth to introduce herself, but had no saliva.

“You’re bleeding all over.”
His voice edged between impatience and loathing.

She answered through dry lips. “I was movin
g my desk and got a sliver.”

He ma
rched toward her pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “
Your
desk?”

Tracy shuddered at t
he quiet, cold strain in his tone. It reverberated through her like two pieces of styrofoam rubbing against each other. Marshaling all her defenses, she replied, “I’m Tracy. Are you Antonio’s brother?”

“Si`. I’m
Vincent. And I know who you are,” his voice laced with venom.

His head bent as he stood over her, gruffly grabbing her hand with the cloth.
He wiped at the blood, making several painful passes over the sliver, cleaning off the tip of her finger. He stood so close, she could smell the outdoorsy scent of the cold winter’s day clinging to his heavy jacket. Attempting to calm her frazzled nerves she breathed in the sweet earthy smell. A squirming sensation gathered in the pit of her stomach.

Vincent
inspected the sliver. Anger rolled off him as he pulled a pocket knife from his jeans.

“What the hell are you planning to do with that?” she protested
attempting to yank her hand free.

For a split second, Tracy thought she saw
a tiny bit of a smile creeping through the clear look of despise rolling off him in waves like the Tuscan hillside.

He clutched her hand in his. The warmt
h of his skin made her tremble, and it didn’t go unnoticed. “Hold still.”

“Don’t cut my
finger.”

“I’m not going to hurt y
ou. No matter how much I’d like to.” He muttered the last few words under his breath.

“Excuse me?
” Tracy scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Whatever he saw in her eyes made him ease off.
Holding onto her hand, he hauled her closer to the door, into the direct sunlight streaming through the glass panels. He held her finger, pinching upward at the flesh near the base of the splinter. The light cast rays over their faces, illuminating strands of blue and grey in his eyes.

“It’s deep,” s
he thought she heard him say through the buzzing in her ear.

The
aching in her finger didn’t compare to the agonizing reminders his smoky eyes unleashed on her heart. Emotions she thought she had put to rest, thoughts of
The Italian
, broke to the surface welling against her bottom lashes. Ridiculously aware of the sound of her own heavy breathing, and his, she instructed softly, “Just do it.”

He carefully tucked the tip of t
he blade beneath the exposed tip of wood poking out from her skin.

“Wait!
” Drawn to him by some unidentifiable pull, she leaned closer brushing her arm against his. “Shouldn’t we sterilize it first? Burn the end of it?”

Appalled by the suggestion, he rolled his eyes in disgust.
Looking away, she took in the smooth texture of his freshly shaven throat. Tiny muscles at his jaw tightened as he concentrated, pulling the inch long piece of wood from her flesh.

Vincent wrapped the cloth around her finger. She expelled a heavy sigh of relief and opened her mouth to say thank you, but he cut her off.

“Don’t make yourself too comfortable, you won’t be here very long,” he warned, before walking out the door and slamming it behind him.

Tracy
jumped at the loud
bang
. She blinked repeatedly, staring in confusion. Heat climbed up her neck, striking a match to her ears.

“
What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Grabbing the handle, she considered going after to him, but dared not to open the door. Her heavy breathing fogged the glass watching him march past the end of the building and out of her sight.

****

“Can you please explain to me what the hell is wrong with Italian men?” Tracy tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder organizing stacks of papers strewn all over her bed.

“Let’s see. They’re entirely too good-looking, they tend to take longer getting ready than I do, and most can undress you in a blink of the eye.”

“Antonio is like a fucking octopus!”

“I was going to ask how you’re holding up, but your F bomb answered that question.
” A wicked giggle erupted on the other end of the line.

Tracy knew her sister
’s naughty chuckle all too well. She let out a giddy chuckle envisioning her little sister making an obscene humping gesture.

“It could be worse,
” JC chortled.

“I don’t see how! He gave me an office to use and it’s directly across from his.”

“At least he makes for a gorgeous view.”

“He is
so
not my type,” Tracy scoffed indignantly. “Did I mentioned he has a fiancée?”

“
Ouch. Sucks to be her. At least Mr. Cop-a-feel seems to be taking your mind off the fact he looks a lot like
you know who
.” Her voice softened. “I expected you to be all depressed when I called.”

Tracy stopped abruptly. Her lip curled, grumbling a sigh of disgust. “The similarities haven’t gone unnoticed.”

After a brief silence, JC continued, “Sorry. It just seemed to be the elephant in the room. I saw how you reacted when you first saw Antonio at the party. We didn’t get to talk about it before I left, so I wanted to call and check on you.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m over it. I have been for a long time.” Confidence hinged on borderline at best.
Tracy added in revulsion, “And his brother is even worse.”

“Two octopus
es? Maybe you need me as an assistant. Or does he have a fiancée too?”

“No I don’t need any help
, nor do I give a shit if he’s got a fiancée or wife. The man barely spoke to me and acted like he wanted to rip my head off!”

“Why?” JC asked with concern.

“Who knows? But he definitely made it very clear he doesn’t want me here.”

“Did you ask him why?”

“No. He just pulled a splinter from my finger and slammed the door in my face.”

“That’s total bullshit. You’re trying to give them options for their future and he acted like a jerk
?” Protectiveness plumped up her vocabulary. “You should ask him
What the fuck gives
.”

“Maybe I should.
” She paused sifting over the idea. “I could be wrong, but I have a gut instinct that the brothers don’t get along. The good news is, the vineyard is absolutely breathtaking. And I have several ideas and concepts to work on. From what I can tell from the reviews, write-ups and awards, the wine is superb, but they definitely need a designer to bring Castlello Giovanni into the twenty-first century.”

“I looked for the wine in Vegas and couldn’t find it.”

“That’s because they don’t export. Antonio talks as if he already knows going global is the next step in progression. I’m simply confused as to why they haven’t already joined with the majority of other large estates in the region and started exporting.”

“Sometimes it just takes hearing it from someone else besides the competition.”

*
***

Over the next few days Tracy immersed herself in statistics and information about the constantly changing development of the international wine industry. Expansion and development of modern wine technology had far exceeded the old ways of eras long since gone. Worldwide exports of Tuscan wine increased by more than eight percent the previous year, stopping just shy of five hundred seventy two million Euro. Exportation seemed to be the key, yet the numbers were still coming up soft. Every scenario she researched continued to come up short of the perfect answer.