Page 31 of Saved by the CEO

Mimicking his posture, Louisa headed after him, and the two of them walked in silence for several feet.

“Carlos taught me to appreciate the art of winemaking,” he said after a moment, returning to their earlier conversation. Again, Louisa silently thanked him for not pushing. “He never let me forget that ours is a centuries-old craft, and as such we have an obligation to make the best wine possible.”

“And your father? He was a vintner, too, was he not?” Strange that Nico’s allegiance would be to his neighbor and not the man who raised him. “Did Carlos teach him, as well?”

“My father made wine, but not like Carlos. He was, shall we say, too distracted by other things.”

Distracted how? Dying to know, Louisa had to bite her tongue to keep from asking. After all, she owed Nico the same courtesy he showed her when it came to privacy.

He answered anyway. “My mother, for one thing. Women who weren’t my mother, for another. Don’t worry,” he added before she could offer sympathy. “Mama gives as good as she gets.”

“They’re still together?” She didn’t know why that surprised her, but it did.

“They have what you would call a fiery relationship,” Nico replied. “They’ve separated and reunited more times than I can count, swearing to God every time that they cannot live without each other, and they can’t, for about a year or so. Then the plates begin to fly again.” The early-morning sun caught his eyes as he cocked his head. Even when sad, he was beautiful. “You could practically hear the clock ticking between breakups.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything.”

No, but she felt as though she needed to say something. She knew that feeling of heavy expectancy all too well, the horrible sense of foreboding as you waited—and waited—for some undefined disaster to strike. “Is that how you ended up at the palazzo?”

“The palazzo vineyards were my escape. No chaos, no drama. Just peace and quiet.” He took a long, deep breath, making Louisa wonder if he wasn’t trying to internalize those very same qualities now. “At first I just went and watched the workers. Then one day Carlos came by—I think the workers told him about me—and he understood.

“My parents’ reputations were well-known,” he added with a smile. “Anyway, after that, he said if I was going to spend time in the vineyards, I was going to learn about them.”

“You’re very lucky,” Louisa said. How often had she wished she had an ally like Carlos, only to end up hating herself because her isolation was no one’s fault but her own?

“I know.”

It dawned on her that Carlos Bertonelli had rescued them both, albeit in different ways. Shame rolled through her as she thought about how long it had taken her to claim her inheritance. She’d nearly let her sanctuary fall to pieces because she’d foolishly let herself be convinced there was no escaping her marriage.

“I’m sorry I never got to meet him,” she said.

“Me, too.” His lips curled into a smile. “He would have liked you a lot, you know,” he told her. “The old man always had a soft spot for beautiful women. Right up to the end.”

Louisa blushed at the compliment. “He must have loved Marianna, then.”

“Of course he did. After his wife died, he would ask her to play the role of harvest queen. He used to tell people it was easier than choosing someone different each year, but everyone knew it was because he had a soft spot for her.”

“There’s a festival queen?”

“No one told you?”

“No.” Although she could certainly picture the beautiful Marianna being selected as queen no matter her age.

“Oh yes, it’s a tradition for the local nobility to lead the festivities.” Nico told her. “If the nobleman wasn’t married, then he would select a maiden from the village to act as his queen for the day. Although in those cases, I suspect there were a few other duties involved, as well.” He grinned. “You seriously did not know?”

Louisa shook her head. The thing about Monte Calanetti’s traditions running so deep was that everyone assumed they were common knowledge. “It’s not something that normally comes up in conversation,” she said. “Who took over as the festival king after Carlos died?” The sunburn on Nico’s cheeks grew a little darker. “Why am I not surprised?” She could only imagine the crowd clamoring to play his queen.

“Someone had to,” he said. “Of course, now that you’re here I will gladly abdicate the title.”

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