Savor: A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel (9 page)

She’s so right. Tomorrow is by far the most important day of his newfound career. “Fine, okay. I’ll wear my other new dress. Not even a fleck of tan in sight.”

“Good.” Ivy smiles. “And then tomorrow night, you’re going to the party, and you’ll be wearing this dress. You’ll greet everyone, be an impressive representative of DeLuca Winery even if it kills you. You will make Matt so proud he’ll know without a doubt what a valuable employee he has in you. If he happens to also see you as a beautiful woman, then so be it.”

Where is she going with this? “And?”

“And if he makes a move, fabulous. But I’m going to warn you.” Ivy’s expression turns scarily solemn. “If he doesn’t make a move, don’t be surprised. He tries his hardest to do the right thing, especially because of his father.”

“What do you mean, because of his father? What’s wrong with him?”

Ivy makes a face. “Vinnie DeLuca has a total slime-ball reputation and embarrasses Matt constantly. They pretty much don’t talk anymore.”

“Slime-ball reputation? Like how?” Curiosity fills me.

“Womanizer. Liked to start fights, especially when he was playing pro baseball. There were rumors he took steroids and that he gambled and cheated a lot.” Ivy shakes her head. “Matt’s always tried his hardest to distance himself from his father and his horrible reputation. He’s always been a pretty straight arrow.”

And here I come along, going from boring and bland to obvious and desperate at warp speed. No wonder he kissed me and then rejected me. He’s most definitely trying to do the right thing.

While I’ve been trying to do the wrong thing.

“I feel like a jerk,” I say with a sigh.

“You shouldn’t. We encouraged you.” Ivy sighs as well. “I feel like a jerk too.”

“I’ll wear the dress. But I won’t try and flaunt myself in front of Matt or anything. It’s wrong. He doesn’t need that sort of trouble or guilt.” I kick at a rock, feeling crappy for doing the right thing.

“You amaze me, you know that? Matt’s lucky to have you by his side.”

“I really hope he feels that way,” I say, my heart twisting in my chest.

Matt

M
ATT’S LUCKY TO
have you by his side.

I really hope he feels that way.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on Bryn and Ivy’s conversation, but I came upon it by accident. And when I realized they were talking about me—and specifically my dad—I had to stick around and hear what they said.

I hated hearing what Ivy said about Dad but there’s no denying that she spoke the truth. He is a slime ball and has a terrible reputation, one I try to distance myself from as much as possible.

That’s why I had to push Bryn away last night. I couldn’t take that amazing kiss we shared any further no matter how badly I wanted to. And damn, I really wanted to.

Listening to Bryn say she felt like a jerk over what happened last night made me realize that she wanted it as bad as I did. I’d firmly believed I’d pushed myself on her. After she left without saying a word, my concentration had been shot, and I’d closed up shop. Drove home frustrated and horny, going over what happened between Bryn and me over and over again, trying to figure out how exactly how I let it happen. That kiss. Pulling Bryn into my arms. Touching her.

Yeah. A huge mistake, not one I can forget easily either.

It had been tremendously hard having to face her this morning, though somehow she made it easier on me by appearing in a beige outfit again, hardly looking at me, like I scared her. This Bryn I knew and understood, or so I thought. I’d been dealing with wallpaper Bryn for months and I was used to her like this.

It’s gorgeous, elegant, sexy-as-fuck Bryn that does me in and makes my head spin. Not only does she look amazing, but she becomes bolder with the stylish clothes and the beautiful hair. She moves with confidence, looks me in the eye, talks to me.

Seeing her this morning in her usual beige getup tripped me up but only momentarily. Hearing her voice, watching her, and all I saw was the real woman behind the facade. She can hide all she wants in drab colors and severe hairstyles; I know who she is beneath the surface.

And I want more despite wanting to do the right thing.

She confuses me. I thought by pushing her away, it would solve all my problems. Instead, I feel like I have a whole bunch more.

Moving away from where Ivy and Bryn are still talking, I head toward my car and take off, going to my last quick appointment for the day, a meeting at my local bank with a possible investor.

My cell rings not two minutes after I pull out of the winery’s parking lot and I check the screen to see it’s my father. Speak of the devil. It’s like the old man could sense someone was talking about him, thinking about him. Against my better judgment, I answer it—best to face him now than prolong it and have him harassing me tomorrow.

“Son.” Vinnie’s voice booms through the speakers of my car since I have my phone on Bluetooth. “It’s been a long time.”

He always acts like there’s no reason we haven’t spoken for months. “What’s going on?” I ask, cutting right to the point.

“Ah, you’re always full of the kindness for your old man, aren’t you?” Vinnie chuckles, and I grit my teeth, wanting to hang up on him so bad it’s killing me. “So I hear your fancy winery is having its reopening tomorrow.”

“It sure is.” He’s never shown one iota of interest in the winery other than when I told him I bought it, and he said “that’s nice” in his usual distracted, completely self-absorbed voice.

We never discussed it again.

“I was hoping I could get an invite.”

Unease slips down my spine, and I clear my throat. “I thought you were more of a hard liquor fan,” I say, trying to sound like I’m joking.

“Well, I’m not a big drinker of wine, I agree, but I want to be there when my only son shows off his new winery. It’s going to be a proud moment, I’m sure.”

A proud moment I absolutely one hundred percent don’t want him to be a part of. “Are you sure you want to come? It’ll be boring. Hardly anyone there that you know besides my friends.”

“Anyone from baseball?” he asks.

Yeah. A few people, and I definitely don’t want him around them. He tends to get in heated arguments whenever they discuss baseball and specifically his past in both the game and the league.

But shit, how can I refuse him? He’s my father.

“A small handful but not a lot,” I tell him, keeping my gaze focused on the road ahead of me. I hadn’t even bothered sending him an invitation for tomorrow. I wonder if he’s pissed. I wonder if this is some strange way for him to get revenge on me for ignoring him.

I wouldn’t put it past my father. He’s just that type of guy.

“I saw a write up in the paper,” he explains. He still lives in the Bay Area, having been born and raised there. We were both lucky to be included in professional teams close to where we grew up. My dad always attributed it to the DeLuca curse—an apt word considering how crappy both of our pro careers became. “And realized this was going down tomorrow. I won’t be able to attend the day events—I saw you’re doing a tour and a wine tasting and all that good stuff—but I’d love to show up at the party tomorrow night if you’ll have me.”

“That can be arranged,” I say, regret filling me in an instant. I hope this isn’t a mistake.

“Great, good! I can’t wait to see you. It’s been far too long, son. I miss you.”

Yeah, right. “It’ll be good to see you too, but you do understand I’m going to be busy the entire night and won’t have much time for miscellaneous chitchat.” I won’t have much time for his calculated reminiscing over our sometimes troubled past either. He loves to do that too and push me into a guilt spiral.

Our relationship is twenty levels of fucked up, I swear.

“I understand completely,” he assures me. “I’ll just be there basking in your glory, always the proud father. I won’t disrupt your little party tomorrow night, I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

That he’s describing tomorrow’s event as “my little party” already sets me on edge, the asshole. I swear he says those sorts of things on purpose. I don’t believe a word he says.

And I hate that I feel this way.

After he hangs up, I ponder over how I can handle the problem that is my father. I wonder if Bryn would help me. But if I set Bryn in my dad’s sights, he’ll probably try and make a pass and she’ll end up beyond insulted.

Yeah. That’s a risk I really don’t want to take. Do I have a choice though? It’s like my dad needs a babysitter and only a specialized few will do.

Still, I definitely don’t want to subject Bryn to my rude bastard of a father.

Chapter Six

Matt

“T
HE PLACE LOOKS
fabulous, man.” Archer slaps me on the back so hard, I take a step forward, wincing when pain shoots through my knee. It still hurts. It’ll always hurt. “You pulled it off. I bet everybody will have DeLuca Winery falling from their lips come tomorrow.”

“Thanks, but the party only just started,” I say, ever the grim reaper as I worry about anything and everything. The grounds are crowded with people, the lot filled with cars, including the dirt field we opened up specifically for the event.

My father still hasn’t arrived which worries the shit out of me, but I can’t sweat it. Maybe he’ll never come at all. I figure I won’t be that lucky. He knows how to put a damper on any party, big or small.

The image of my father crashing into the party, loud and drunk and making me look like a fool has set me on edge. I need to do something to take that edge off and quick.

“You’re all gloom and doom today, asshole. Perk up. Life is good,” Gage says, saluting me with his glass before he takes a swallow of a DeLuca Cabernet.

“Don’t be so mean,” Marina chastises as she slips her arm through Gage’s. “It’s an amazing party, Matt. I know everyone’s impressed.”

“Thanks, Marina.” Her words mean a lot to me since she comes from one of the oldest families in the area. If anyone knows what’s going on in the Napa Valley, it’s Marina Knight. That I can impress her and she hears nothing but good things from those she knows, lets me breathe easier.

A little bit easier, at least.

My name is on the label, on the sign out front, on the building. It’s a surreal feeling, finally seeing the fruition of months and months of hard labor, sweat, and tears.

The day’s events came off without a hitch. The tour was a success, heavily attended by many, including plenty of local media. The wine tasting had been a nerve-wracking experience but soon turned into complete relief. Almost everyone enjoyed what they sampled, though there had been a few naysayers, but that was to be expected.

Bryn led the tasting, composed and elegant and thoughtful and amusing. She’d enraptured everyone, talking so enthusiastically about the wine and the DeLuca name and what it’s going to mean to the Napa Valley in the coming years. Hell, even I believed my own hype.

She’d been utter perfection, and I never got a chance to thank or praise her. I still haven’t seen her arrive tonight and that surprised me. I figured she’d be here already.

I need her to be here already.

Gage and Marina head for one of food tables, and I glance around, checking out the crowd. I notice that the small live band is tuning up and getting ready to play. The weather tonight is perfect, not too cold, though I have outdoor heaters going on low to fill the air with warmth. There’s a gentle breeze rustling the majestic oaks that are all over the property. White lights are strung in the trees surrounding the courtyard, illuminating the party without being too bright. There are bars set up on each corner of the courtyard, and they all have long lines, everyone wanting a glass of one of the new DeLuca wines. Servers move through the crowds with their trays, offering appetizers or flutes of sparkling wine.

It has all come together so perfectly, and I owe a lot of that to Bryn. But where is she?

“Matt! Your party is fabulous.” Ivy comes at me, her pregnant belly so obvious it’s preceding her. Archer stands at her side as she comes for me, enveloping me in a perfume-scented hug. “I can’t believe how beautiful everything looks. Where’s Bryn? I wanted to praise her too. I know she’s done so much for you.”

“She has. And you’ve done an amazing job too you know.” I kiss her cheek before I let her go, thankful for all her decorating input. Everything looks freaking amazing because of her. Her design skills and expertise were just what I needed to ensure the grounds and the interiors looked modern yet stayed true to the authenticity of the winery in times past.

“I’m so glad you like it.” She smiles, then notices Marina and Gage waiting in line. “I’ll be right back. I want to talk to Marina.”

Archer and I watch her go before Archer turns to me, a knowing smile on his smug-as-hell face. “Been diddling the help yet?”

Unease slips down my spine. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ah, don’t pretend with me. I know your assistant has the hots for you, and I hear the feeling’s mutual.” Archer takes a sip from his glass. “Ivy talks. Her and your Miss James have become awfully close.”

“What did Ivy tell you?” No way did Bryn tell Ivy about what happened a few nights ago, when I kissed her then pushed her away.

“Not a whole hell of a lot. Just that the two of you have been circling around each other in the office for far too long and that Bryn finally got herself a new wardrobe and some courage. I hear the dress she’s wearing tonight is a plan to knock you completely on your ass with lust for her,” Archer warns.

I swallow hard. Great. So she’s going to be wearing a dress that makes her look like utter perfection? I can withstand that. No problem.

Shit, I hope I can.

She hadn’t worn an uninspired beige outfit earlier today, and I was thankful for it, though she impressed me so damn much I probably wouldn’t have even noticed. She’d shown up dressed to perfection in a fitted deep purple dress, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail that wasn’t so severe as her usual hairstyle. She’d looked beautiful. Assured and elegant, she was a fine representative of the DeLuca Winery.