“Email me the next time you’ll be in Italy. Ciao, bella.”
Hope smiled, brushing the tip of her nose to his. Her upside-down stare connected with his, soaking up the last few glimpses of silvery grey before walking out the door.
Driving along the beautiful, unspoiled Tuscan countryside, Hope appreciated the gorgeous view of Antonio’s family’s estate. Two castles, drenched in the color of muted saffron, separated by acre upon acre of lush grapevines following every rise and dip of the landscape.
The rental car came to a crawl as she navigated between two massive pillars covered in ledge stone. A large steel beam spanned above the entry touting their new name, Castello Giovanni Vineyards & Amore Mio Winery and Inn.
Though the Winery and Inn were new additions, the vineyard had been on her radar for years. Hope Tidwell worked as a foreign wine buyer for one of the largest big-box stores in the United States. She traveled the world, scouring every continent, searching for the best wines to offer their retailers at phenomenal prices. Some considered her to be a master sommelier, but she measured herself as a simple wine buyer . . . with talented taste buds and a knack for recognizing great wine. And the Giovanni family made great wine.
Following the tree-lined drive, she parked in front of the sprawling estate, large enough to be mistaken for a quaint village. A massive door built of thick wood and hand-forged wrought iron hinges was fixed open, settled between two tall turrets made from huge blocks of cut stone.
She met Antonio five years ago at a wine tasting event in Spain. They spent a glorious weekend together enjoying fine wine, delectable Spanish cuisine, and each other. At the time, Castello Giovanni was a small vineyard, unknown to most of the world, but celebrated locally for making one of the best palatable wines in all of Italy. As a fifth-generation winemaker, he had big ideas of making a profound influence on the global wine market, expanding his family name and reputation around the world. All of his dreams were coming true. Marrying the two estates created one of the most prestigious vineyards in Italy and Castello Giovanni recently received the esteemed award of being voted the Super Tuscan Wine of the Year.
The castle bustled with workers getting ready for the daily rush of tourists traveling to visit one of Tuscany’s hottest new wineries. The clicking of her heels echoed beneath the archways trimmed in aged brick as Hope walked along a path of worn, stone pavers, taking in the castle restored to its respective architecture.
She spotted Tracy in the distance arranging snowy white hydrangeas and blush pink roses into a dozen crystal vases. A handsome man at her side pressed a long kiss to her cheek. Without introduction, Hope immediately recognized Antonio’s brother. He bore the same tall, lean build, charismatic smile, and silvery-grey eyes. The similarities between the two men were uncanny.
Tracy greeted her with a bright smile and friendly wave. “Hi, Hope. So glad you could make it. Have you met my husband, Vincent?”
“No, we haven’t had the opportunity yet.”
“Ciao.” Vincent lightly clasped her hand in both of his. The scratchy callouses on his palms, the only distinguishable difference between him and his brother. “So nice to finally meet you.”
“Great to meet you too.”
“I hate to run, but I was just on my way out.” Vincent excused himself with an apologetic smile.
“Ciao,” she said, nonchalantly studying the similarities of the brothers’ backsides, long muscular legs and wide shoulders tapered at the waist, as he walked away. Turning to Tracy, she admitted, “From a distance, I would’ve sworn he was Antonio.”
“They look alike, but they’re complete polar opposites,” Tracy assured with a wry grin, enveloping Hope in a friendly embrace. “Thanks for stopping by before you head back to Seattle. I know it adds to your already long day.”
“This place is breathtaking,” Hope complimented, looking over the property with wide eyes. “The renovation is truly stunning.”
“Thank you.” Pride flushed Tracy’s cheeks. “Our goal was to preserve enough of the old to retain an authentic feel, yet offer all the luxurious, modern amenities you’d find at a new five-star resort. It’s been quite the labor of love.”
“Then I guess the name is fitting.” Hope pointed to a small sign hanging on the stucco wall with an arrow reading Amore Mio Winery translating to My Love in English. “Your passion certainly shines through.”
“It’s been an amazing journey. All the hard work and long hours have paid off nicely. Right now, we’re hosting two weddings a day and the calendar is already nearing seventy percent capacity for the next eighteen months. It’s going to be a very busy year.”
“Let’s not forget your gorgeous new label will soon be adorning the table of two hundred thousand wine enthusiasts.” Hope referred to the deal they’d just buttoned up during her visit, ordering twenty thousand cases of wine that would be distributed to more than six hundred warehouse stores throughout the US. “It’s going to be an exciting year for you.”
Tracy agreed with an anxious nod. Her dark, auburn hair accentuated her blue eyes. “I’d love to take you on a tour. Do you have enough time before your flight?”
“I have about an hour. I’d love to see it.”
Over the last few years, meetings had always been held at the vineyard next door, but she’d watched the progress of the restoration from afar. Fortunately, the Inn was booked to capacity this trip and she stayed at a quaint village not too far from the vineyard. Not that Hope didn’t want to stay at the Inn; she simply preferred not to divulge the fact she and Antonio were lovers. She’d learned early in her career not to sex-and-tell. If anything, she went the extra mile to keep her love life private.
Tracy escorted Hope through the quaint courtyards nestled between colorful gardens, pointing out intimate details of the castle. The Inn was tastefully decorated with stylish Tuscan furnishings, wonderfully-appointed beneath original wood beam ceilings. Enthusiasm clung to her every word. “We host an authentic Italian cuisine culinary class three times a week for tour groups, plus jazz nights in the courtyard during the summer. The list goes on. It’s too bad you have to rush home so soon.”
“Believe me, I’d love to stay longer, but I have a meeting the day after tomorrow that I can’t miss. I could use a real vacation. I always promise myself I’m going to come back and visit so many amazing places I travel for my job, but it never seems to happen. Every time I get a few days off, I wind up relaxing at home.”
“Do you ever get tired of traveling so much?”