Decadent. Alexx Andria

CHAPTER THREE

      Dante

      ALESSANDRA EXPECTED ME to leave the grounds. Given her curt refusal to entertain my substantial offer, it wasn’t surprising that she gave me little thought after leaving me in the great hall.

      But I wasn’t ready to leave.

      Maybe I’d play tourist and check out the gift shop. I needed to poke around, get a more accurate idea of what I was dealing with. I couldn’t think of a better way to get information than playing the part of a tourist within Castello di Baroni walls.

      With a final appreciative glance around the great hall—my father would dig the whole king of the castle vibe the room gave off—I headed for the gift shop.

      It was easy enough to find, and I stepped inside with a friendly smile and a disarming disposition for the attractive woman manning the counter. Unlike my brothers, I wasn’t one to use the Donato charm to get what I wanted, but I liked to win and I wasn’t above using whatever tools I had at my disposal.

      “Welcome to Castello di Baroni,” she said with a sweet Italian accent and a welcoming smile. “My name is Mia. May I interest you in a sample today?”

      “Pleasure to meet you, Mia. I’m Dante. What are you pouring?” I asked, feigning curiosity.

      “Well, Dante, you’re in for a treat,” Mia said, retrieving a small tasting glass. “Today we have a bottle of Castello di Baroni’s Chianti Classico. Our wines have been served on royal tables since the seventeenth century.”

      “That’s quite a claim,” I said.

      “And completely verifiable,” she said, eyes sparkling. “But once you taste our wines, you’ll understand why Castello di Baroni is a premier choice for discerning palates.”

      I accepted the glass and swirled the dark burgundy before burying my nose to appreciate the notes rising from the glass. With a short smile, I took a sip. It was good. Not quite as good as the Riserva Alessandra had shared earlier but still quite good. It was easy to see why Castello di Baroni was a solid label.

      My father would enjoy having the label in his collection.

      But first, I had to bring it home. “Excellent,” I said, smiling as I pretended to be in awe of the grounds.

      “We offer shipping to anywhere around the world,” Mia said, fishing for a sale. “Having a Baroni wine on the table is a guaranteed conversation starter.”

      “I can imagine,” I mused, savoring the wine. I took a moment to peruse the shop, making sure my gaze returned to the large open window with the gorgeous view of the grounds. “Incredible. The history within these walls… I’m overwhelmed by everything.”

      She nodded, pleased that I was impressed. “Is this your first trip to Italy?”

      “Actually, yes,” I answered, stretching the truth a bit. I’d been to Italy for business but I’d never played the tourist. Most of my time in Italy had been spent in boardrooms or hotel bars. I’d spent precious little time enjoying the visual treats the country was known for. “I’m so glad I stumbled on this place. It’s simply stunning. A working winery with such deep roots…pretty amazing.”

      Mia was happy to chirp on about her employers’ origins, which I eagerly encouraged. The more I knew about my opponent, the better.

      “Castello di Baroni has the distinction of being the largest winery in the Chianti Classico area as well as being one of the oldest working wineries in the region. Did you know that the original castle was built in the late thirteen hundreds?”

      “Very impressive. All that history…if only these walls could talk, eh?”

      Mia giggled. “Much intrigue and bloodshed. The Medicis were frequent guests and where they went, scandal followed.”

      I laughed along with Mia. “You should put that on the brochure.”

      “Oh, goodness,” she said with a flirty smile. “Alessandra would never do that.”

      “And who is Alessandra?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

      “Alessandra di Baroni. She is the winery’s CEO and the only living Baroni heir.”

      “And does this Alessandra have no sense of adventure? I think playing up the Medici angle would be a sensational tourist trap. You’d sell more wine that way.”

      “We do things differently here at Castello di Baroni. It’s not always about the sale,” Mia said, politely chastising me for such a crass suggestion. I probably came off as typically American. I’d done enough traveling throughout Europe to know that Americans were often disdained for our lack of tradition or sense of ritual.

      “I agree, the way you’re doing things is better. Obviously, when you’ve been around since the thirteen hundreds, you’ve got a firm handle on how to succeed.” I winked to show that I was capable of listening to subtle cues. She rewarded me with an approving smile. I sensed a deep appreciation for Alessandra, which was interesting. While Alessandra may seem the hardnose, she must truly value her staff as Mia wasn’t about to say anything that threw her boss under the bus.

      There was no one I would consider loyal in our employ. I had no doubt that any of the executives who sat in the boardroom at Donato Inc. would sell their own grandmother if it meant getting ahead. That was just the nature of business. I didn’t hold it against them, but I wondered what it would be like to be the recipient of Mia’s brand of loyalty. A world without fake smiles, ass-kissing and backstabbing as the norm.

      Right, like that place existed. Appearances were deceiving. For all I knew sweet Mia could be sleeping with Alessandra’s father behind closed doors or embezzling from the company.

      “Tell me more about the castle,” I prompted, steering the conversation to ground where Mia felt more comfortable. “I find it all so fascinating.”

      “Oh, it truly is. The castle survived the devastation of World War II without so much as losing a pebble in her foundation, whereas other castles in the area weren’t as lucky. Some say the castle is blessed.”

      “And here I thought castles were supposed to be haunted. Surely there are a few ghosts rattling around the stones. Please don’t ruin all my European castle stereotypes.”

      “Perhaps one or two,” she said with a conspiratorial wink. “There is a story about an old groundskeeper who can be seen walking the vines from time to time, but he seems to be the helpful sort of ghost, not the scary kind.”

      “No wailing lady in white to be found?” I asked.

      “Not that I’ve heard but you’d have to ask Alessandra. She grew up in the castle and if there’s anything ghostly, she’d know.”

      I let that information sink in for a moment. “Grew up in the castle? Wow, that’s not something you hear every day. The only people I’ve ever heard of living in a castle are the Windsors.”

      “Well, Windsor Castle is older than Castello di Baroni and impressive as well. Have you been?”

      “Not much of a touristy traveler,” I admitted. “But I see now that I’ve been missing out. I think I need to start seeing the world through a different lens, which definitely includes a few castle tours. I’m bound to find at least one with a wailing lady in white, right?”

      “The odds are in your favor,” she said, laughing. “Actually, you seem like someone who might be interested in a special event the winery holds each year to celebrate the harvest,” she said, reaching beneath the counter to produce a five-by-seven invitation printed on thick card stock with gold filigree. “A man of your tastes might find tonight’s event worth your while.”

      The woman was good. Without being obvious, she’d sized me up quickly and determined I had the pocketbook required for such an event.

      I accepted the