Chapter 8 - Ten Million Dollars and One Kiss
Dante arrived at Bennett Ridge in a black SUV wearing a black cashmere sweater, tailored trousers and shoes that probably cost more than Sophie’s first car.
She stared.
“I said work clothes.”
“These are clothes.”
“You’re about to meet dirt.”
“I’ve encountered dirt.”
“Not willingly.”
Two hours later, Dante Romano was repairing irrigation pipe in a white T-shirt while Sophie laughed so hard she nearly dropped a wrench.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
“You’re a cruel woman.”
“You own three hotels.”
“Four.”
She threw a glove at him.
For three days, they worked.
Not as boss and maid.
Not as mafia boss and liability.
As two people trying to resurrect something dead.
Dante hired agricultural specialists.
Sophie found former Bennett Ridge workers.
One returned.
Then another.
By the fourth day, twelve people stood among the vines.
Hope began looking practical.
Then the offer arrived.
Ten million dollars.
Buyer: Westlake Agricultural Holdings.
Sophie rejected it.
Twenty-four hours later, their irrigation system was destroyed.
Then a storage building burned.
Dante studied the flames.
“This isn’t random.”
Sophie crossed her arms.
“Obviously.”
“Westlake is a shell company.”
“Owned by?”
“We’re finding out.”
They did.
The answer shocked them both.
Arthur Bellini.
The wine broker supposedly killed in Chicago.
“He’s alive?” Sophie whispered.
Dante’s face hardened.
“The explosion was staged.”
Bellini had disappeared before Whitmore’s arrest.
Now he wanted Bennett Ridge.
Why?
The answer was beneath them.
Thomas’s ledger contained a map showing a sealed underground storage room built during Prohibition.
Dante and Sophie found the entrance behind old barrels.
Inside were hundreds of bottles.
Not ordinary wine.
Rare vintages used in Whitmore’s counterfeit operation.
Some were worth hundreds of thousands.
More importantly, hidden inside the crates were original transaction ledgers capable of proving Bellini had managed the international side of the scheme.
Sophie stared.
“My father kept everything.”
“He built insurance.”
“He died before he could use it.”
Dante touched her shoulder.
“But you can.”
A sound came from above.
Footsteps.
Dante immediately killed the flashlight.
They waited.
Someone entered the cellar.
Bellini’s voice drifted down.
“You should have taken the ten million, Miss Bennett.”
Sophie’s blood chilled.
Dante pushed her behind him.
Bellini descended with two armed men.
“You’re becoming predictable, Romano.”
Dante’s voice was calm.
“So are men who fake their deaths.”
Bellini smiled.
“I learned from better criminals.”
He wanted the ledgers.
Dante offered him a choice.
Walk away.
Bellini laughed.
Then Sophie noticed something.
The old sprinkler valve above him.
Her father had installed emergency fire suppression after a barrel-room accident.
Sophie slowly moved her hand toward the wheel beside her.
Bellini saw.
“Don’t.”
She smiled.
“You know what my father always hated?”
Bellini frowned.
“Waste.”
She turned the valve.
Water exploded from overhead pipes.
Bellini’s men flinched.
Dante attacked.
Sophie ducked behind a barrel as punches, shouting and gunfire filled the cellar.
One man slipped.
The other lost his weapon.
Dante drove Bellini into a rack.
Police arrived minutes later.
This time Sophie had called them before entering the cellar.
She was learning.
Bellini was dragged away screaming about Romano corruption.
Dante stood beneath pouring water.
His hair was soaked.
His shirt clung to him.
Sophie stared.
He noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m evaluating.”
“Like the wine?”
“Less oak.”
Dante laughed.
Then Sophie walked toward him.
No hesitation.
No kidnappers.
No paramedics.
No dead fathers or hidden evidence between them.
She placed one hand against his cheek.
“Dante.”
His laughter disappeared.
“Are you sure?”
That question mattered.
Sophie nodded.
“Yes.”
He kissed her.
Slowly at first.
Carefully.
As though the man everyone feared was afraid of frightening her away.
Sophie gripped his wet shirt and kissed him again.
Dante’s hand settled against her waist.
When they separated, she was breathless.
“You taste like cellar water.”
“So romantic.”
“I panicked.”
His forehead rested against hers.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the study.”
“When you caught me stealing?”
“When you insulted my wine.”
“I knew criticism was seductive.”
He smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“I love you.”
Sophie stopped.
Dante continued before she could speak.
“You don’t have to say it.”
“Good.”
His face fell slightly.
She smiled.
“Because I’m enjoying watching you panic.”
“Sophie.”
“I love you too.”
For several seconds, Dante Romano looked completely defenseless.
Sophie decided she liked him best that way.
Six weeks later, Bennett Ridge reopened.
But Sophie made one thing clear.
She would not be Dante’s employee again.
She became owner and winemaker.
Dante became an investor only after she forced him to accept actual contractual terms.
“No gifts disguised as business,” she warned.
“Yes, boss.”
She stared.
“Did you just call me boss?”
“I can stop.”
“Absolutely not.”
Their happiness lasted exactly seventeen days.
Then Dante received a package.
Inside was a photograph of Sophie at the vineyard.
Across her face was a red X.
There was no message.
Only a name.
MARCUS ROMANO.
Dante stared at it.
Sophie found him ten minutes later.
“Who is Marcus?”
Dante’s silence answered first.
Then he said:
“My brother.”
Sophie blinked.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
“What does that mean?”
Dante looked at the photograph.
“It means Marcus died twelve years ago.”
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Dante answered.
A familiar voice spoke.
“Hello, brother.”
Dante went completely still.
Sophie watched the color leave his face.
The dead man laughed.
May you like
And said:
“You really should stop falling in love with women I can use against you.”
