Page 32 of Taming the Beast (Fairy Tales of New York)

“Very well,” said Maria. “How about you?”

“All good.”

“Your course?”

“Loving it.”

“And New York?”

“Ditto.”

“Have some of our fine award-winning wine,” said Antonio, deadpan, filling a glass and holding it out to her.

“It would be my pleasure,” said Mercy, taking it with mock solemnity and raising it. “Congratulations, everyone. To a great team effort.”

They clinked glasses, and Mercy took a sip, closing her eyes as the wine slipped down.

“Oh, that is good,” she said, relishing the cool, fruity crispness and marveling at the fact that when she’d planted the Torrontés vines she’d never dreamed the resulting wine would win an award. Her parents had been against it. They’d expressed their concerns that the variety wouldn’t do as well on their soil as it did where it was more traditionally grown, but she’d had a feeling, so she’d gone ahead anyway – and happily proved them wrong.

“Your parents said to tell you they send their love.”

At Maria’s words Mercy came to, lowered her glass and opened her eyes. “Yes, they rang earlier,” she said, thinking of the call in which they’d told her how proud of her they were, which had been as unexpected as it was lovely. “It sounds as though things are busy.”

Maria nodded. “Everyone’s flat out.”

“With the launch of the new rosé?” Mercy asked, putting down her glass.

“Yes. Mainly. It’ll be ready for release around June,” said Antonio.

“Screw top or cork?”

“Cork,” said Antonio.

“Label?”

Maria nodded. “A brief went out last week.”

“Price?”

“Being worked on.” Maria grinned. “We are surviving without you, Mercy. You’re not completely indispensable.”

Mercy gave her a rueful smile and let out a tiny sigh. “I know that. And I’m sure you’re all doing great. It’s just that sometimes I really miss it.”

“And we miss you,” said Maria, squeezing her arm. “Sure you don’t want to come back?”

“Quite sure. At least not yet.”

“Not even for Christmas?”

Ah, Christmas. She hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Perhaps deliberately. It wasn’t a subject she wanted to bring up with Seb. She wasn’

t sure why. “I don’t know,” she said vaguely. “We’ll see. I-”

But whatever she was going to say next vanished from her head because she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, and then her breath was sticking in her lungs and her heart was galloping because weaving his way through the crowds, head and shoulders above everyone else, totally unexpected and wholly out of context, was Seb.

*

What he was doing here, among all these people, all this noise, while making his way over to Mercy, Seb had no idea. The last time he’d acted on impulse had been when he’d gone to see Zel in that clinic, and look how well that had turned out. All he knew now was that he’d left work half an hour ago and had been on his way back to the house when suddenly he’d given his driver instructions to divert to here instead.

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