Namrita hadn’t heard any such talk until the reporter called. She’d been monitoring the interns’ social media accounts and most had seemed okay with the work and complimentary of the wine.
The reporter zeroed in on the one thing the interns had complained about as images of Sofia and Aish appeared on the screen. “A lust affair had seemed inevitable between the reunited duo; individually they’re known for having a hard time keeping their pants on. But the intern we spoke to said the interactions between Aish Salinger and Princess Sofia are as awkward and uncomfortable behind the scenes as they are on camera.”
Image after image showed Sofia smiling grimly at Aish, shrinking back from his unexpected touches, and glaring at him when he went off script, as he did day after day. Aish was refusing to keep the bargain he made. But the cameras were catching Sofia failing at it.
“Many blame the princess. Although Aish has thrown himself into the difficult vineyard labor—as well as the hard work of wooing the princess—he’s been getting nothing in return but a cold shoulder.”
Aish was being portrayed as the innocent. After what he’d done. After he’d left her alone and afraid when she’d needed him most.
Sofia hid her hands in her lap so her friend couldn’t see them shake.
“Some interns are concerned about their ability to leave. After an inn in the backwater kingdom closed for unexpected repairs, the inn’s guests found themselves struggling to find flights out of the rural airport. Some say the Monte del Vino Real is not ready for the tourism the princess wants to force on it.”
The reporter failed to mention that Sofia fixed the inn’s unexpected problem within two hours of it happening, reopening the inn and placating the guests with free cases of wine and tours of El Castillo del Monte, their six-hundred-year-old castle. Her repair involved bribing the inn owner, who was suspicious of Sofia’s efforts, with more money than the Consejo had bribed him with to close.
They’d modernized the airport before the winery was complete. There’d never been a problem with flights. Whoever was speaking to the media was doing it with a bile that Sofia hadn’t noticed among the interns.
“None of the interns were willing to go on record about putting an end to their month at the winery. For perspective, we spoke to the top winemaker in the Monte del Vino Real, Juan Carlos Pascual.”
Carmen Louisa’s colorful cursing filled Sofia’s office.
“I’m not surprised the interns are unhappy.” Juan Pascual appeared on the screen in all of his Spanish hacienda owner glory, silver haired, handsome, unquestionable in his misogyny. “Even if Aish and Sofia had hopped into bed in the middle of the village, it wouldn’t have covered up the fact that Princesa Sofia is unqualified and ill prepared. She harangues our winemakers to change techniques passed down from their grandfathers because, why, she invented the chemical to eradicate cork taint? What proof do we have it’s even her invention?”
Cork taint, a naturally occurring fault that made wine smell like moldy basements, used to plague the wine industry until the chemical Sofia developed eliminated it. She leased the chemical’s license to a manufacturer and received a percentage of every vial sold. Since a drop was now injected into almost every bottle of wine produced, that percentage added up to a pretty penny. The rumor that her billionaire sister-in-law’s company had developed the chemical and given credit to the spoiled princess was an old and tired one. Men in the wine industry loved to trot it out to discredit Sofia’s hard work, training, and years of experience.
“The larger concern is how Sofia’s delusions have affected her brother Mateo, the future ruler of our kingdom,” Juan Carlos said, his brow furrowed in a mockery of worry.
Sofia shot Namrita a glance. This was new.
“He’s ripped out many of our vineyards and installed his own clone. Has our fruit quality improved? Many think no. I worry that these children’s effort to modernize centuries of tradition will ultimately damage the Monte del Vino Real’s reputation for excellence in the eyes of our fruit buyers.”
“Joder,” Sofia breathed through her teeth. Juan Carlos had taken off the gloves.
The Monte had one thing going for it: a successful winegrowing industry. Her brother had replaced tired and underperforming vines with his Tempranillo Vino Real, a clone bred to grow higher quality grapes and withstand climate change. His new clone and careful financial management had brought the kingdom back from bankruptcy.
But Juan Carlos and the Consejo winemakers, all intimate friends with her parents, wanted to undermine any change and maintain a status quo that allowed them to keep wealth among a powerful few.
“Unfortunately, the Monte is being torn apart by a woman with too much time on her hands. We’d hoped Mr. Salinger would help her fill it, pero no.” Juan Carlos chuckled. “Without proper distraction—a man, a family—our princesa makes up fantasies about a kingdom on the brink of ruin with her as its only savior. Our future king would be best served distancing himself from the delusions of his sister.”
Juan Carlos was drawing a line in the sand and telling Mateo to choose a side.
Sofia hit the off button, wishing she could erase Juan Carlos’s words just as easily. He’d publicly voiced the worry that sometimes smacked Sofia awake at night.
Had she insisted on a winery and a new way of winemaking as the only way forward for her kingdom because it forced her people to need her? Had she handcuffed them to
