Jennifer Hayward - The Truth About De Campo

Riccardo’s coal-black eyes flashed. “As much as I would dearly love to have you out of the picture right now, I need you. And I think you need a challenge. Badly.”

Matteo couldn’t deny the truth of that statement. He’d almost doubled sales as head of De Campo’s European operations. Was killing it in his new role. But his brother continued to handcuff him, as if he was afraid to unleash him.

He sank his fingers into the knot of his tie and yanked it loose. “You don’t trust me.”

“I wouldn’t have given you the job if I didn’t trust you.”

“Then why the hand-holding?”

His brother’s gaze darkened. “You’ve been knee-jerk in the extreme the last six months, Matty. You’re like a cowboy with his guns drawn at all times.”

“I’m hungry,” Matteo growled. “Give me something to sink my teeth into and you will have my complete and utter focus.”

“Exactly my thinking.” Riccardo plucked a magazine from the surface of his immaculate desk and held it up. “Warren Davis just bought the Luxe Hotel chain.”

Matteo nodded. The purchase by the world’s third richest man, an investment genius revered around the world, had made headlines a few weeks back. The confirmation of a deal that had been in the works for months. “I looked into it a while ago,” he told Riccardo. “Patreus has it locked up for another three years.”

“Not any more they don’t.” Riccardo tossed the magazine on his desk. “Davis is reevaluating all suppliers.”

He frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I played poker with a close friend of his on Monday night. De Campo is now in the running for marquee wine partner.”

Matteo sucked in a breath. “That’s a six-or seven-million-dollar contract, minimum.”

“Ten.” The hungry light he knew so well flared in his brother’s eyes. Antonio De Campo, their father, had built De Campo into a global wine empire. Riccardo, with his endless thirst to make his mark, had driven it even higher with the restaurant division he was building. But for the core wine business, which was still all-important, this was huge. It would mean De Campo would be featured in every single one of Luxe’s legendary restaurants worldwide. The coveted locations where politicians, princes and A-list celebs dined...

Merda. This was massive. “What next then?”

“Davis has put his daughter, Quinn, in charge of restaurant operations. She will be the final decision-maker on the wine contract. The Davises are doing a chemistry test with the four short-listed companies next week in Chicago. From there they’ll pick the final two to pitch for the business.”

“A chemistry test? What in God’s name is that?”

“Warren Davis is all about the relationship aspect of business. Common ideals, common philosophies, he says, are the keys to creating a successful partnership. It’s not always about what looks best on paper for him. The four short-listed companies are all great candidates. It will be the chemistry we have with Davis and his daughter that will put us in the final two.”

Helpful then, that Matteo happened to be a master at persuading a female to do his bidding. “What form will this chemistry test take?”

“A cocktail party at the Davis residence.”

Matteo’s lip curled. “Like sharks circling one another...”

“Pretty much.” Riccardo rhymed off two of the largest spirit companies in the world who had swallowed up smaller regional winemakers and a niche producer out of southern Australia.

“Silver Kangaroo?”

Riccardo nodded. “They’ve been winning some big awards lately.”

“Yes, but odd. They are so niche.” He gave his head a shake. “Any idea which way they’re leaning?

“Quinn, apparently, has her eye on Silver Kangaroo. We are considered an outside shot.”

Against the odds. Exhilaration tightened his body, sent his blood coursing through his veins. Just the way he liked it. When was the last time he’d felt that rush? That elemental surge of adrenaline he needed to feel alive? If Quinn Davis preferred a pure wine player they had a shot. Now all he had to do was work his magic.

“Do we have any intel on Quinn Davis?”

“Tough, smart, Harvard-educated.” His brother handed him a folder. “It’s all in here.”

Matteo took it and lifted a shoulder. “She’ll be all right, then.”

Humor darkened his brother’s gaze. Riccardo had gone to Harvard, Matteo to Oxford. It was a standing debate between them which was superior.

Matteo leafed through the folder. “Quinn manages some of his companies for him, doesn’t she?”

“Si. Most recently Dairy Delight. Warren is hoping her experience in the food sector will help revive Luxe’s restaurants. They’ve been on a slow decline for years.”

“Dairy Delight? They sell ice cream and burgers. How’s that going to help bring Michelin three-star restaurants back to life?”

Riccardo shot him a warning look. “Do not underestimate her, Matty. Apparently she’s a chip off the old block.”

Yes, but she was a female. He’d never met one he couldn’t have. If he was on his game, she’d be in the palm of his hand before he’d finished his first cocktail. His mouth tightened. He intended to be more than on his game. All over his game was more like it. Which didn’t mean he would underestimate her. Women were like sleeping bears. All soft and cuddly until you awakened their inner beast. Which was precisely why you didn’t go there.

He closed the folder. “Who’s going?”

“You are.”

He did a double take. “With you and Gabe?”

“I need to be in San Francisco for the restaurant opening and Gabe is in way over his head with the harvest right now. I can’t pull him away.”

A surge of anticipation fired through him. Finally he was back in the game. The deal was his to win.

Riccardo kept his gaze steady on him. “This is the most important contract we’ve negotiated in the history of De Campo. We win this, we enter a different stratosphere. You need to bring it home, Matty.”

“Done.”

His brother’s eyes flickered at the belligerently confident note in his voice. Mistrust. It was still there.

His shoulders shot to his ears, blood pumped so rapidly into his head he thought it would explode. “Do not say it,” he bit out. “Do not say it.”

“What happened with Angelique Fontaine can’t happen again, Matty.”

The liquid fire burning in his head became an all-consuming force that blurred his vision. He swung away and sucked in a deep breath. Then another. Fisted his hands by his sides until they numbed into a lifeless mass. “How long,” he demanded hoarsely, “are you going to crucify me with that?”

“Bring me Luxe,” his brother said deliberately, “and we’re even.”

Matteo bowed his head. Flexed his frozen appendages until the blood streamed back into his fingers. When he looked up, he sought, demanded an honest answer from his brother. “Why me? You could make time for this, Riccardo.”

His brother rested that deadly sharp gaze of his on Matteo. “Because you are the only one who can win this. Quinn Davis is a man-hater. She will detest me on sight. Gabe could do it, but you are better. Not only do you have the charm but when you’re on, Matty, you light up a room. You are electric.”

He exhaled the breath lodged deep inside his chest. “Luxe is ours. I promise you that.”

Riccardo nodded. “Absorb what Paige has put together and let me know if you have any questions.”

Matteo tucked the file under his arm and headed for the door. His brain was already formulating his approach when Riccardo’s low drawl reached him. “Matty?” He turned around. “I meant what I said. You are not, under any circumstances, to sleep with Quinn Davis.”