Rebecca Winters - The Vineyards Of Calanetti

After only one ring, Rafe answered. “Hello?”

She sucked in a breath. “It’s me. Daniella. I’m in your lobby and don’t know how to get up to your penthouse.”

“Pass the bank of elevators we used to get to the condo I showed you and turn right. I’ll send my elevator down for you.”

“Don’t I need a key?”

“I’ll set it to return. You just get in.”

She did as he said, walking past the first set of elevators and turning to find the one for the penthouse. She stepped through the open doors and they swished closed behind her.

Riding up in the elevator with its modern gray geometric-print wallpaper and black slate floors, she was suddenly overwhelmed by something she hadn’t considered, but should have guessed.

Rafe was a wealthy man.

Watching the doors open to an absolutely breathtaking home, she tried to wrap her brain around this new facet of Rafe Mancini. He wasn’t just sexy, talented and mercurial. He was rich.

And she was about to yell at him? She, who’d always been poor? Always three paychecks away from homelessness? She’d never, ever considered that maybe the reason he didn’t think anything permanent would happen between them might be because they were so different. They lived in two different countries. They had two different belief systems. And now she was seeing they came from two totally different worlds.

Rafe walked around a corner, holding two glasses of wine.

“Chianti.” He handed one to her and motioned to the black leather sofa in front of a stacked stone fireplace in the sitting area.

Unable to help herself, she glanced around, trepidation filling her. Big windows in the back showcased the winking lights of the village. The black chairs around a long black dining room table had white upholstered backs and cushions. Plush geometric-patterned rugs sat on almost-black hardwood floors. The paintings on the pale gray walls looked ancient—valuable.

It was the home of a wealthy, wealthy man.

“Daniella?”

And maybe that’s why he thought he could influence her with money? Because she came from nothing.

That made her even angrier.

She straightened her shoulders, caught his gaze. “Are you trying to buy me off?”

“Buy you off?”

“Get me to stop saying no to a relationship by bribing me with a big, fat salary?”

He laughed and fell to the black sofa. “Surely this is a first. An employee who complains about too much money.” He shook his head with another laugh. “You said you wanted to be compensated for relocating. You said you wanted to be general manager. That is what a general manager makes.”

“Oh.” White-hot waves of heat suffused her. Up until this very second, everything that happened with reference to her job at Mancini’s had been fun or challenging. He pushed. She pushed back. He wanted her for his restaurant. She made demands. But holding the check, hearing his explanation, everything took on a reality that had somehow eluded her. She was general manager of a restaurant. This was her salary.

He patted the sofa. “Come. Sit.”

She took a few steps toward the sofa, but the lights of the village caught her attention and the feeling of being Alice in Wonderland swept through her.

“I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d make this much money.”

“Well, teachers are notoriously underpaid in America, and though you’d studied a few things that might have steered you to a more lucrative profession, you chose to be a teacher.”

Her head snapped up and she turned to face him. “How do you know?”

He batted a hand. “Do I look like an idiot? Not only did I do due diligence in investigating your work history, but also I took a look at your college transcripts. Do you really think I would have given you such an important job if you didn’t have at least one university course in accounting?”

“No.” Her gaze on him, she sat on the far edge of the sofa.

His voice became soft, indulgent. “Perhaps in the jumble of everything that’s been happening I did not make myself clear. I’ve told you that I intend to be one of the most renowned chefs in Europe. I can’t do that from one restaurant outside an obscure Tuscan village. My next restaurant will be in Rome. The next in Paris. The next in London. I will build slowly, but I will build.”

“You’d leave Mancini’s?” Oddly, the thought actually made her feel better.

“I will leave Mancini’s in Tuscany when I move to Rome to build Mancini’s Rome.” He frowned. “I thought I told you this.” His frown deepened. “I know for sure I told you that Mancini’s was only a stepping stone.”

“You might have mentioned it.” But she’d forgotten. She forgot everything but her attraction to him when he was around. She’d accused him of using promotions to cover his feelings for her. But she’d used her feelings for him to block what was really going on with her job, and now, here she was, in a job so wonderful she thought she might faint from the joy of it.

“With you in place I can move to the next phase of my business plan. But there’s a better reason for me to move on. You and I both worry that if we do something about our attraction, you will be hurt when it ends and Mancini’s will lose you.” He smiled. “So I fix.”

“You fix?”

“I leave. Once I start my second restaurant, you will not have to deal with me on a day-to-day basis.” His smile grew. “And we will understand each other because we’ll both work in the same demanding profession. You will understand if I cancel plans at the last minute.”

This time the heat that rained down on her had nothing to do with embarrassment. He’d really thought this through. Like a man willing to shift a few things because he liked her.

“Oh.”

“There are catches.”

Her gaze jumped to his. “Catches?”

“Yes. I will be using you for help creating the other restaurants. To scout sites. To hire staff. To teach them how to create our atmosphere. That is your real talent.” He held her gaze. “That is also why your salary is so high. You are a big part of Mancini’s success. You created that atmosphere. I want it not just in one restaurant, but all of them, and you will help me get it.”

The foster child taught not to expect much out of life, the little girl who learned manners only by mimicking what she saw in school, the Italian tourist who borrowed Louisa’s clothes and felt as though she was playing dress up every day she got ready for work, that girl quivered with happiness at the compliment.

The woman who’d been warned by him that he would hurt her struggled with fear.

“You didn’t just create a great job for me. You cleared the way for us to have an affair.”

Rafe sighed. “Why are you so surprised? You’re beautiful. You’re funny. You make me feel better about myself. My life. Yes, I want you. So I figured out a way I could have you.”

She sucked in a breath. It was heady stuff to see the lengths he was willing to go to be with her. And she also saw the one thing he wasn’t saying.

“You like me.”

“What did you think? That I’d agonize this much over someone I just wanted to sleep with?”

She smiled. “You agonized?”

He batted a hand in dismissal. “You’re a confusing woman, Daniella.”

“And you’ve gone to some pretty great lengths to make sure we can...see each other.”

His face turned down into his handsome pout. “And you should appreciate it.”

She did. She just didn’t know how to handle it.

“Is it so hard to believe I genuinely like you?”

“No.” She just never expected he would say it. But he said it easily. And the day would probably come when those feelings would expand. He truly liked her and she was so in love with him that her head spun. This was not going to be an affair. He was talking about a relationship.