CHAPTER ELEVEN
THISWASEXACTLYthe kind of distraction Simon wanted to avoid. His job came first, before anything else. Even Marianna. His ability to focus on his goal and block out everything was what had gotten him this far. He knew better than to get preoccupied by the emotions Marianna could churn up in him again.
Simon straightened up, and cleared his throat, breaking the magic between them. He pointed out her window. “Actually, I stopped to give you a peek at the warehouse.”
Marianna blinked, and the hazy look evaporated from her eyes. “Oh. Right.”
There, down the dirt road, the warehouse rose up, an enormous mass of corrugated metal, big enough to house multiple trucks.
“See how the drive goes around the back, like in the photo?” He pointed to the side of the building. “It means that when we come in tomorrow, we won’t be able to see what we’re dealing with from the road. Surveillance will give us an update.”
“What kind of surveillance?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about that.”
She frowned but said nothing. He had studied the photos for more possibilities, but there was no way to access the office from the front. They’d be stuck in the back of the building at the meeting, with no direct escape route. Not his first choice of meeting venues, but it was safer not to alert Goodwin by making new plans.
“You think William will come all the way to Australia?” he asked.
“For me? No.” She gave a dry laugh. “But to hold on to his Ruiz Imports fortune? Definitely.”
Simon ran a hand through his hair. “You know I’m going to want to punch your ex when I see him.”
She turned and raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to pay Blackmore Inc. extra for the service?”
“Nope. If I do it, it’s on the house.” Simon smiled a little. “Seen enough?”
By the time they pulled up in front of Max’s estate, the sun was low in the sky, shimmering over the rolling hills. Simon had no idea what the hell would happen next with Marianna. Would they lie in the same bed, fall asleep tangled up together? It had been so, so long since he had woken up next to a woman. Since he had wanted to.
Marianna climbed out of the car and stretched.
“Nice place.” She sighed.
The house was built in the style of luxury Italian villas, though it wasn’t more than ten years old. Max’s father had bought it just before heading to early retirement, leaving the family’s cattle empire in Max’s older brother’s hands. The house itself was impressive, with pillars and archways and flowering vines everywhere. Beyond the gardens, the estate was devoted to rows and rows of grapevines that stretched over the hills.
If Simon’s own family had a place like this, he’d be here every weekend. But Max rarely came this way, maybe a few days a year for formal family events. That was Max’s relationship with his family in a nutshell, or at least as much as Simon knew about it.
Marianna walked into the shade of one of the arches to inspect a flower more carefully.
“For a house that’s rarely used, this place is very well maintained,” she said.
“Max’s father and brother come more often, but they live in Western Australia. It’s a long trip, even for people who own their own plane. They hire a local couple to look after the place and sell the grapes to one of the boutique wineries on the other side of the hill.”
She wandered a little farther, into the darkening evening.
“I think the kitchen is stocked for us,” he called. “Let’s find something to eat.”
“Okay,” she said, taking one last look at the vineyard before heading back toward the front door.
The last thing he wanted was for her to wander around at night. Even if Max and Derek were the only ones who knew their location, he couldn’t leave anything to chance. Luckily, the alarms and surveillance system Max had installed on the grounds took care of most of his worries.
The refrigerator was full as promised. Marianna opened the cupboard doors, looking for plates and glasses while Simon pulled out a selection of salads, platters of cut fruits and vegetables and a lamb roast the housekeeper had left for them. Bottles of wine from the Jensen family vineyard filled the racks.
“Would you like a glass?” he asked, picking up one of the bottles of red.
She shook her head. “Maybe tomorrow, after this is over.”
Tomorrow. If things went as planned, Marianna would have her answers. Tomorrow, this head-on crash of the past and present would come to an end, and both he and Marianna could go back to their lives. Like none of this had happened. Wasn’t that still what he wanted?
