Page 41 of The Forbidden

“What?” he inquires. “I know how to have fun.”

This is laughable as Gabe has done nothing but work, other than that first day we hung out with Sylvie. Granted, I’ve worked too, focusing on administrative stuff I could handle with the convenience of a good Wi-Fi connection at the château, but Gabe is hard-core devoted. He reminds me so much of Ethan, managing an empire and making it look easy, even though we all know it’s not.

“If you say so,” I mutter.

Gabe pops the last piece of bread into his mouth and brushes off his hands. He chews, swallows, and then rises from the chair. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

We meander through the town and back down a winding lane toward the château, which sits right in the middle of vine plots. The winery grows mainly two types of grapes, making their signature blend from merlot and cabernet franc varieties. I learned during our tour of the winery—which included a tasting—that the merlot grape lends flavors of plum and black cherry to the wine, and the cabernet franc offers a spicy bouquet that hints at tobacco and raspberry.

I tried my hardest to taste those things within the rich, red wine, but my palate is apparently not very sophisticated. All I know is that the wine tasted good and that was the extent of my input into the product. Gabe thought it hilarious when I later confided to him that I had no ability to taste any of that stuff.

“You’ll have to come do a bourbon tasting with me. I can coach you through how to taste certain qualities. It takes practice.”

I didn’t respond because that sounds like something lovers might do together, or even friends.

We’re not even friends.

We reach the château built in the same golden-yellow limestone that most buildings here have been done in. It can seem dull at times, especially in the town limits where all the buildings are the same color, but there’s something to be said about the way the structures glow warmly during sunset, taking on a rich, amber hue from the sun’s dying rays.

Very similar to Gabe’s eyes when he’s feeling extreme emotion.

The château itself is a home little girls’ dreams are made of and while I love our historical house back in Kentucky, I can see why Sylvie misses this place so much. The massive three-story structure has steeply pitched roofs covered in slate tiles and on the front corners are two elegant towers with conical roofs. I can almost imagine the prince climbing up to kiss the princess, and from the windows in those rooms—one a library and the other a bedroom—the view of the vineyards is beyond compare.

The château is set on expansive grounds with meticulously maintained gardens that bloom with a variety of flowers and shrubs. Sylvie told us that gardening was her mother’s hobby and someone has been doing a beautiful job in caring for the plants in her absence.

The backyard slopes downward, flanked by rows of ancient cedar trees. The vineyards stretch out beyond with rows of grapevines meticulously tended, following the gentle roll of the hills.

It’s toward the rows of grapes that we walk, chatting about the expansion. Gabe does most of the talking while I listen.

“We need to be aggressive but practical.” Gabe reaches out, plucks a small grape—no bigger than the size of a pea at this point in the season—off a merlot bunch and examines it. The end of each row has a post with a plaque identifying the grape variety, which is the only way I know it’s a merlot. “We can’t afford a misstep on this expansion, especially since you and I are out of our element.”

I shake my head. “I’m out of my element. This is your forte.”

“Bourbon isn’t the same as wine, not to mention, this is a French company and product. Trust me, I’m out of my element.”

I glance over at him, the morning sun making his blond hair glow like a halo but I know he’s no angel. “You don’t ever act like it. You’re always so in control.”

“Only because I work hard at looking like I’m in control,” he replies, and while he sounds like he’s jesting, I get the feeling he’s serious. “We can’t just throw money at this idea, even if we have legit investors. We need a sustainable approach. This is going to be a long and costly process, results not being seen until probably at least ten years down the road. I have my own business to run, and you’re busy as hell.”

“It sounds daunting. What am I supposed to tell Ethan when I barely understand this stuff?”

“I don’t think Ethan is looking for a recommendation from you as to the viability of these suggested plans. I think he’s looking for you to gut check yourself as far as I’m concerned.”

“I’m not following you,” I say hesitantly, although I think I’ve got an inkling as to what he means.

Gabe stops, turns to face me. “Your brother is smart. He’s a businessman, same as me. He can have any number of advisors evaluate all this stuff and tell him what to do, but he’s letting you handle this for one reason only.”

“And that is?”

“To find out if your family can trust me.”

I stare at Gabe because I used to trust him and then he betrayed me. Abandoned me. The easy answer to my brother should be “No, we can’t trust Gabe Mardraggon.”

But he’s not the same man I knew. He’s become a protector to Sylvie, turned his back on his father and that familial legacy, and he’s a man who loves his niece so thoroughly, I’m not sure there’s anything he wouldn’t do for her.

That all has to go into this gut check that Gabe is talking about. I have to reconcile my past feelings and experiences with the man standing before me now. But to admit that I think it’s okay to trust Gabe as it involves Sylvie and the winery means I might have to admit he’s changed for the better. It might mean there’s room to forgive and perhaps evaluate that kiss we had, and what seems to be a growing connection and I’m not sure I can do that.

“I don’t know,” I say, crossing my arms over my stomach. I look off into the distance over the fertile green hills. “Maybe we should just let the winery run as is for a while. It’s making a good profit and the oversight is manageable.”

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