“Your father was a great man,” I acknowledge, sincerely. “You were probably too young to know the details, but while I was away studying, your parents helped my mother. I’ll never forget the kindness they showed her. I know it wasn’t an easy time for them.”
A flicker of something—anguish, maybe—contorts her delicate features. It happens in a heartbeat, and for several seconds I observe carefully to see what else she’s hiding behind that stoic mask. But she shows me nothing more.
“My mother lives in London now,” I continue. “Otherwise, she would be here. She sends her condolences.”
“Thank you,” Daniela says, her voice just above a whisper. “How is she?”
“Happy. Very happy.”
Daniela’s face softens. “I haven’t seen her since—” She blinks a few times before continuing. “It seems like a lifetime ago.”
There’s a resigned wistfulness in her voice that seems out of place from someone so young.
“I adored your mother,” Daniela continues. “She would always bring me caramels wrapped in gold foil when she visited. And beautiful ribbons from her travels. I—”
She stops mid-sentence, and for a moment, she appears faraway and unguarded, so fragile she might shatter if she completes the thought. All the talk of my mother must have brought back memories of hers.
My heart is long-hardened, and it takes more than a shaken woman to garner any sympathy from me, but I give her a moment to pull herself together. That I can do.
Daniela wets her plump lips as she fights for composure.
I’m mesmerized by the struggle in her beautiful face. The way the pain whirls in her eyes, darkening the irises.
Her brown eyes are several shades lighter than her hair, with tiny gold flecks that catch the light streaming in behind her. Expressive eyes. The kind that hide nothing. My favorite kind. Before my imagination gets too far down that path, I remember her father, my mentor, is lying in a wooden box, behind me.
“Please give your mother my regards,” she adds quietly.
“I will.”
With that, Daniela’s attention shifts to the person in line behind me, and I get the sense I’m being dismissed. But I don’t move. I’m done when I’m done. Not one second sooner. Although it’s cute that she thinks she can get rid of me so easily.
The princesa is in for a rude awakening.
“Thank you for visiting my father before he passed,” she says, after it becomes apparent that I’m not going anywhere. “I’m sorry I missed you.”
Her tone is still exceedingly polite, but cooler, now. She might be happy I visited her father before he died, but she sure as hell isn’t happy I’m still standing here.
“Your visit brought him great peace of mind.”
If you only knew the half of it.
I nod once and step out of the receiving line, leaving her to greet others—because now, I’m done.
4
Antonio
All eyes are on me as I make my way to the rear exit, where Cristiano is waiting. I’m sure the gossips are wondering if I’ll stick around to speak with my uncle. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason to wait to say hello. Respect is paid when it’s due. That bastard isn’t entitled to a damn thing from me.
On the way out, I pass several of my men who are fanned out across the funeral parlor. I’m vigilant as I cross the room, but I make eye contact with no one.
“Let’s get out of here,” I mutter under my breath as I stride past Cristiano.
The crowd gathered at the exit steps aside, opening a wide swath for me to pass easily.
Outside, I fill my lungs with fresh air before climbing into the back of an armored SUV.
As the vehicle pulls away, I gaze out the tinted window at the line snaked out the door and around the mortuary. It was like this when my father died too. The only difference is that no one shed a single tear for Hugo Huntsman. They showed up just to make sure o diabo was really dead.
Less than a week after we lowered Hugo into the ground, Manuel D’Sousa summoned me for the first time, and delivered a fiery ultimatum. Even now, I remember every word.
“The river of gold and everything along its banks can be yours. But your responsibilities must be to something greater than yourself. You will be called upon to mete out justice and quell unrest, upholding tradition, while ensuring our wine flows freely beyond the valley. If you are not man enough to wear the crown, step aside now, and I’ll find someone worthy of the honor.”
And just like that, my days of throwing back expensive whiskey and chasing cheap pussy were over. I was twenty-two.
Yes, I had the pedigree, but D’Sousa was kingmaker.
He lived and breathed lush, rich Port—from the vine to the bottle. He knew every detail of the process intimately, and appreciated every aspect. Soon I did too.
Since the beginning, the business—the shadowy parts and the more principled—have filled every corner of my life. Although some might argue that flooding the world market with fortified wine is hardly principled.
“Jesus, I’m glad to be out of there,” Cristiano grumbles, settling his large frame into the seat beside me.
Cristiano, Lucas, and I have been friends since we were kids. Lucas, who is at the command center monitoring video feeds we set up in and around the funeral home, is also part of my inner circle. Cristiano and Lucas are the inner circle. While there are others I trust, no one else has the kind of access they do. Not even close.
“I hate when you’re exposed like that,” Cristiano mutters. “Even with all the extra precautions in place. Too damn many people in and out, milling around. It’s exactly the kind of occasion one of our enemies would use to take you out. It’s not smart.”
But necessary. And I’m done talking about it. “Why do you think Daniela was so spooked by my uncle and Tomas?”
He shakes his head. “Not sure. But I’m going to poke around this afternoon. I was starting to worry that you’d want to hang around to see how it played out.”
“I saw enough.” More than enough. She belongs to me, and nobody, nobody gets to make her tremble. Nobody but me.
“What are the chances they’ve already approached her about the property?” Not that it matters. She doesn’t own it, so she can’t sell it, but I want those facts to unfold on my terms.
“We have eyes all over Quinta Rosa do Vale,” Cristiano replies, scrolling through his phone. “We’d have known if they showed up. But I guarantee they’re planning something.”
“Have Lucas sift through Daniela’s email and call records, to see if they’ve contacted her since we last checked. Tell him to drop whatever he’s doing—and get on it.”
I want answers. Now.
I drum my fingers on the armrest, until even I’m irritated by the tapping.
“I’m going to pay her a visit this week.”
Cristiano lifts his head and peers at me from across the console. “Have you changed your mind about waiting to tell her about the betrothal contract?”
“Did you see how young she is?” I scowl at him. “How long do you think I can tolerate a teenage girl’s bullshit? Especially a spoiled one?”