“A vineyard,” he answers absently, finishing a text.
“I can see that,” I said patiently, “what with all the vines.”
It really is beautiful, the grapes beginning to fill out nicely into pale greens and rich purples in the orderly rows. There’s a scatter of little stone guesthouses and a huge, imposing one at the end of the driveway. It has a classic tile roof and beautifully arched windows. There are pots of blue and red flowers leading up to the entrance and some fruit trees, all showy with pink blossoms. “So, exactly whose vineyardisthis?” I persist, trying to get some answers out of him.
He finally looks up at me, amber eyes twinkling and a grin stretching over his full lips that is positively filthy. “It’s the Toscano Vineyard, at the base of Mt. Vesuvius. It’s been in our family since well before the last volcanic eruption.”
I’d like to see more, but he's pulling me along like I’m luggage and Davide hurries ahead to open the huge double oak doors. The entryway is spectacular, with banks of stained-glass windows, a gigantic iron chandelier, and beautiful, rustic furniture.
“We don’t want to be disturbed until this evening,” Dario says, exchanging some sort of significant glance with his guard before the man turns away and leaves us alone in the big hall.
“What happens tonight?” I ask, deeply concerned about this man’s intentions.
“You’ll meet my brother Giovanni and sister-in-law, Ekaterina.”
I remember my father saying something about the couple, she’s Bratva and he’s Mafia and it’s one of those old-fashioned alliance marriages. At the time, I should have taken it as a warning that apparently my dad thought that arranged marriages are an excellent tradition and one that should be brought back on a wider scale. “Oh,” I smile weakly. “That sounds… I’m sure they’re great but about me leaving-”
Dario tilts his head, looking me up and down. “Do you like your hair blonde?”
This whiplash between potentially sinister and blandly conversational is making my head ache. “Why does it matter at this particular juncture?”
“Because,” he says patiently, “it didn’t seem to do much to change your appearance, given that two of the three groups chasing you caught up to you in no time. And if you would prefer it back to its natural color, I have a stylist on call.”
“This is your biggest priority?” I clarified, “My hair color?”
He shrugs. “Merely trying to be considerate.” Seizing my hand, he pulls me up the stairs and down a wide, sunny hall, opening a door that leads to a bedroom. White sheers at the windows give a perfect view of the vines and an entrance to what I think is a cave. It’s the bed that draws my attention; a huge four-poster bed made of darkly stained wood with more white fabric draped from the canopy. Squinting a bit, I see black iron rings hanging from each post.
“Wh- what the hell is this?” I ask, “That’s weird.”
Dario’s opening a window, letting the early summer breeze in. “What?” He strolls closer, grinning as he taps one iron ring. “They’re very handy.”
“For what?” I said, backing away.
I’m struck by his size; his massive height and bulk, those alarmingly large paws, his swiftness, and economy of movement, as evidenced right now as he looms over me again, blotting out the sunshine, it’s all overwhelming me.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” He thinks about it. “Not at this moment, at any rate.” He steps back and takes my hand, kissing it. “Why don’t you get some rest? You were up all night. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.”
I look that bad?I touch my face and immediately despise myself for it. “Fine. A shower would be nice.”
“Excellent,” he’s smiling down at me, hands in his suit pockets like this is a relaxing weekend getaway and not the kidnapping that he refuses to admit it is. Speaking of getting away, I need to take a closer look at those windows and the distance to the fence…
As if he can read my mind, Dario says, “Keep in mind that my security detail is patrolling every inch of this vineyard and it would be easier to escape from a gulag in Siberia than it would be from this very comfortable house. So why don’t you take the afternoon off from your chosen profession of running away?”
Oh, I just fuckinghatehim.
Dario…
“Are you sure this is how you want to handle the situation?”
Giovanni and I are sitting in the private office in the main house. He’s got that constipated, concerned expression he wears when he’s questioning my every move.
“Yes Gio, this is a brilliant confluence of events and you know it. This is fate.” I make him a drink and hand it over. “You have to admit that I’m right.”
He smiles reluctantly and I know it’s killing him to agree with me. “Do you want me in the room for this discussion?”
“Do you know how fast you can make someone shut down with that glower of yours,DonToscano?” I shook my head. “No thanks, I’m capable of suitably terrorizing her on my own.”
This time, he uses that glower on me, and I have to laugh. “Really? You’re judging me? Like I don’t remember your tender nuptials with Ekaterina?”
