"Fuck!" he finally said, his voice hoarse.
"You can say that again." My own throat was raw.
Nate pulled out and stepped back to straighten his clothing. I slid off the counter and stumbled. Nate caught my arm, steadying me. Though the charged atmosphere had dissipated, a strange tension lingered. We stared at each other, a question hanging in the air.
"Let's go to bed," Nate said, deciding for us.
He took my hand and began to lead me toward the stairs. Tightening my fingers around his, I went more than willingly.
Chapter Fourteen
Nate
The fermentation on the reserve cabernet was further along than I'd expected. Ramon poured a small measure for each of us. We stood at the barrel in the half-dark of the winery and tasted it, taking a moment to silently reflect. That was how Ramon preferred to work. He didn't like commentary until he'd had time to form his own view.
I held it on my palate for a moment. There was something there that hadn't been present at the last tasting, a deeper flavor that would only improve with time.
"Another six months," Ramon said.
"At least."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. When I took it out and spotted Scott’s name on the screen, I signaled to Ramon that I was going to take a minute and answered the call.
"Look at the Herald online," Scott said as I stepped outside to speak to him in private. "It's one of Kane's papers. Lifestyle section."
I pulled it up. The piece had been up since early morning. The article carefully avoided slander but made wild accusationsdressed up as concern. I scanned the text. Fears grow for Caldwell heiress. Sources close to the Caldwell family. Friends say Juliet has been unreachable for weeks. The remote Sonoma estate is understood to operate under significant private security.
Though the writer didn't say it directly, the implication that Juliet was being kept here under duress was clear. The photos made the point the words didn't. The first was from the harvest dance, taken from outside the marquee through the open side panel. Juliet was in her pretty red dress, my hand at her back. Cropped tight with the lighting altered to appear darker, the picture made it look as if I was manhandling her.
The second image was of Corrigan walking Juliet back down the path from the hill. His hand was at her elbow, presumably to guide her. A head taller than her and built like a wall, he looked more like her jailer than a bodyguard.
I had to look at the third picture twice before I understood what I was seeing. Someone had been on the road on the western boundary with a long lens the morning after the harvest dance. I was carrying her back to the house, her shoes in my hand. The moment had been perfectly innocent but was obviously open to misinterpretation.
"Fuck!" I cursed.
"Each picture does nothing on its own," Scott said. "But together they tell a story." He let out a long, slow breath. "This is Kane's opening move, Nate. There'll be more."
"Yeah, I know."
Those photos had been taken over several days. Kane had been patient and deliberate, waiting until he could build a story in which I was the villain, and Juliet the innocent captive. These photographs were enough to seed doubt in people's minds. If I didn't handle this carefully, my reputation would be shredded, and that would be bad for business.
"How far has this spread?" I asked.
"Two of his other titles have also run stories. A couple of independents picked it up."
Damn it. This wasn't something I could keep a lid on. "Juliet will need to know."
"Yes," Scott said. "I guess she will."
I ended the call and went back inside. Ramon was in the office, sitting in front of the computer he loathed.
"Everything okay, boss?" he asked as I dropped onto the chair across from him.
"A newspaper is running a story, suggesting I'm keeping Juliet prisoner here."
Ramon almost choked in surprise. "What? Where would they get that idea?"
"Someone's been taking pictures of us. Edited just right, they look suspicious."
