“Well,” he enunciates slowly, “this is interesting.”
I smile, hold his stare. “Isn’t it?”
Then I stand up, tuck my hands in my pockets, and look out of the windows, my back to Rio and Renzo.
“As the CEO, the appointment of a head winemaker is an operational decision. Codified. Protected. Reviewed byyouroffice, Rio.”
“That is correct.” Rio’s voice is cool and precise.
“I will not appoint another winemaker but Alessia,” I declare softly. “Not now to appease him. Not later, disguised as strategy.”
His expression shifts, just barely, mouth curving with control. “You’re picking a fight you can’t win.”
I turn and look at Renzo, who grins at me before addressing Rio.
“Actually, Rio, he’s ending one he should’ve fought sooner. Cesare’s being a patriarchal asshat when he says a woman can’t be a winemaker. If that’s the kind of company the House of Alighieri wants to be, and if Nico as CEO and I as COO cannot change that, then why the fuck should we stay here?”
“In fact”—I move closer to Rio—“why shouldyou?”
Now, Rio barks out a laugh. “Ah, I see what’s happening here.”
I lean forward, palms flat on the polished wood. I’m in his personal space now.
“Cesare can fire me. He can humiliate me in front of the board. But I will not betray my wife or my principles. I refuse to lead a company that thrives on fear rather than excellence.”
The silence that follows is thick enough to taste.
Rio rocks back in his chair. He’s entertained and concerned. I think he likes the drama of the moment.
He gives me a measured look and then turns to Renzo for a beat and then back to me. “You understand the consequences.”
“I do.”
“We do,” Renzo adds.
There’s a knock on the door, and my EA peeks in. “I’m sorry, Nico, it’s Alessia. She…ah…it’s Matteo.”
I left my phone with her, with strict instructions to come get me if anything critical happened—or if my wife reached out.
I hold on to the table, now for support. “Is he…is he gone?” I ask.
My EA quickly shakes her head. “No. But Alessia said for you to hurry.”
Renzo stands up. “Go,” he urges.
“Yes,” Rio agrees with him. “Go now, be with your wife. Company can wait.”
The helicopter drops me just outside Castagneto Carducci, where a car picks me up and drives me to Matteo’s place. I keep texting Alessia throughout the trip, telling her I’m on my way. She replies each time with a simple:Grazie.
My mother is right. My wife wants me with her when things are the hardest, and that means I haven’t lost her, but I can if I fuck this up.
As I walk up the steps to the porch, the door opens, and I come face-to-face with Cesare. He steps into the sunlight like a man who has aged a decade overnight.
It’s fair to say I’ve never seen the great Duca Alighieribroken as he is right now. He’s not diminished—Cesare will never be that—but stripped of something essential.
His shoulders sag. His face is drawn, mouth pressed thin, eyes shadowed in a way I’ve never seen before.
For a moment, he doesn’t notice me as his eyes are vacant, and then he does.
