about?”
“My life is an open book.”
“Right. One that’s written in invisible ink.” She collected her papers. “Until recently I’ve always admired how you did business. You’ve always been completely straightforward. Because of that, you’ve always been able to look yourself in the mirror. I would hate to see that change.”
She stood and walked away. Nic watched her go. He told himself that Maggie didn’t understand what he was trying to do. She saw things as black and white, but life was more complicated than that. Sometimes winning was expensive, but he’d always been willing to pay the price.
Besides, he’d yet to find a deal he couldn’t afford. There was no reason to think this one was different.
Francesca stepped into the basted gown and pulled it up over her hips. Brenna waited until the bodice was in place, then carefully pinned the back closed.
“How does it feel?” she asked her twin. Grammy M had just finished the initial assembly of a thin cotton dress they would use as a pattern for the actual wedding gown. Once it was fitted, the garment would be taken apart. When there was eighty-dollar-a-yard silk involved, it was best to experiment on cheap fabric first.
“Good. It’s a little loose in the waist. I wish I could know how big I’m going to get between now and the wedding. Should we let it out more?”
Brenna fingered the cotton and found she could pinch about two inches of fabric. “I’ll ask one of the Grands. They have more experience with that sort of thing.” She bent down to see where the hem should be. “Are these the shoes you’re wearing?”
“Uh-huh.”
She slipped several pins into the fabric, then straightened. “So the party is this Saturday. You must be excited.”
“I think it will be fun.”
Not exactly the word Brenna would have used. She cleared her throat. “So here’s the thing. I was thinking of maybe, you know, bringing someone.”
Francesca spun around to face her. “You’re kidding. Like a guy?”
“Yes, a guy.”
“But I didn’t think you were seeing anyone.”
“I’m not.” She and Nic weren’t “seeing” each other. They were…She sighed. She had no idea what they were doing. “The problem is I don’t want to make trouble. It’s your party, it’s your special day.”
“What trouble? The Grands will be thrilled that you’re dating. They want you to get married again.”
“Not to Nic Giovanni.”
Francesca’s perfect mouth dropped open. “Nic? You want to bring Nic?”
Brenna nodded. She’d been mulling over the concept for three days, and she’d come to the conclusion that, kidding or not, Nic’s feelings had been hurt when she hadn’t instantly agreed to take him. While that wasn’t exactly her responsibility, she still felt bad. Maybe it had something to do with the chemistry bubbling between them or maybe she was still feeling guilty about the past or maybe she’d slipped into madness. Whatever the reason, she wanted to ask him. But only if her sister agreed.
“We were talking the other day and I mentioned the engagement party and he said he would like to go and I thought maybe I’d bring him.” She looked at Francesca. “But I know it will be really uncomfortable, so I didn’t want to do that and ruin the party.”
Her sister grinned. “I think it’s a terrific idea.”
“Oh, please. Talk about the fur flying.”
“But that’s perfect. We haven’t actually booked any entertainment.”
“Very funny. It could get ugly.”
“No way.” Francesca returned her attention to the mirror. “Grandpa Lorenzo will grumble, but I don’t think anyone else will care. You should bring him. A nice, romantic night under the stars. Anything could happen.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Brenna mumbled. She sighed. “I talked to Katie and she pretty much said the same thing.”
Francesca met her gaze in the mirror. “So you’re going to do it?”
“I’ll call him and see if he wants to come with me.”
Francesca’s gaze narrowed. “Are you sure there isn’t anything between the two of you?”
“There’s nothing,” Brenna said. But when she turned away to busy herself with the box of pins, she crossed her fingers. There was something; she just couldn’t figure out what it was.
“You’re offering a lot of cash,” Bill Freeman said. “Are you sure about that?”
“Lorenzo Marcelli is an old-fashioned businessman.” Nic glanced down at the final draft of the offer. “Cash will appeal to him. I want to keep things clean.”
Bill grinned. “Any cleaner than this and I’d sell to you.”
“You don’t own Marcelli Wines.”
“You make me wish I did.”
Roger White flipped to the second page. “You’re promising to keep all the employees for at least two years. I heard that he’s got his granddaughter running things these days. Will that apply to her as well?”
Nic understood Roger’s concern. An angry family member who had just lost an inheritance could be a liability. “The clause stands.” He held up his hand before Roger could interrupt. “Brenna Marcelli will quit the second she finds out I’m the actual buyer.”
“You’re sure?”
Nic thought about Brenna’s temper and how she was going to feel about the deal. They’d even discussed him buying Marcelli, however briefly, before she’d dismissed the idea. As much as she would hate him buying out her inheritance, she was going to be even more furious at being played for a fool.
“I’m positive,” he said.
She would want to skin him alive. Not that he would blame her. If someone was doing to him what he planned to do to her, he would be out for blood. Brenna’s need for revenge would be hampered by the million-dollar callable note he held. No matter what, he was going to win.
They discussed a few more points, then adjourned the meeting.
“You’re a hell of an opponent,” Roger said, shaking hands with Nic. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
Nic grinned. “You want that in an e-mail?”
“Sure.”
He opened the conference room door for the men. Bill paused. “You’re going to make a lot of enemies with this one, Nic.”
“I can live with that.”
The older man studied him for a second, then shrugged. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. I’ve wanted Marcelli for a long time.”
“You’re about to get them.”
Nic watched them leave, then returned to the table to pick up his copy of the offer. One more pass and it would be ready. Bill and Roger would present it, and then the real game began.
Lorenzo Marcelli would be a fool to dismiss the deal, but Nic knew his acquisition wasn’t a sure thing. Marcelli Wines was a family business. There was more than just money at stake. But he was confident.
He crossed to the window and stared out at the winery. To the left was the building where Brenna’s wines were fermenting. She showed up every night and worked until dawn. Despite her years away from the business, she still had the magic touch. He didn’t doubt that every one of her wines was going to be a medal winner and sell out in days.
If he gave her the time she needed.
He felt a twinge right between his shoulder blades. Guilt? Not possible. He hadn’t done anything wrong. This was business.
The phone on the conference table buzzed. He walked over and hit the speaker button.
“Yes?”
