It was almost a challenge to that wild child in Sofia, that little monster that bit back, to break more, to kick her combat boots into the barrels, to stomp and scream and shout until wine ran like blood over the marble. And this, at the end of the day, was why her winery—and her hopes for her people—were doomed.
Because millions of new dollars and a lifetime in the role hadn’t magically transformed Sofia into the princess her kingdom could depend on. There was a reason they no longer leaned on her after her brother returned. And yet, she’d shackled their future to her ankle. When she went down, the kingdom would go down with her.
She wrapped her hand around her forearm’s blazing red tattoo to hide it from sight.
As if hearing her fear, Namrita said, “You’ve got to look at the big picture. You have options if the winery fails. But your growers who’ve invested their life savings don’t.”
Sofia narrowed her eyes, but grabbed her cargo coat off a barrel and stooped to wrap it around Namrita’s chilly legs.
“I know it seems extreme,” the PR rep continued, her eyes dark and serious as Sofia pressed the cloth against the wound. “But fake romances are used all the time to create diversions in high-profile situations. A pro-mance with Aish Salinger for a month could mean the difference between Bodega Sofia’s success or failure.”
She nodded toward Carmen Louisa clanging down the stairs. “Do you hate him more than you love her?” she whispered.
Namrita had been recommended by Sofia’s sister-in-law because she pulled no punches. Right now, Sofia didn’t need the low blow. “I know what’s at stake,” she hissed.
Her reputation. The future of her people. A legacy that stretched back a millennium.
For centuries, the Monte del Vino Real had grown the most admired Tempranillo grapes in the world. Winemakers from Madrid to Bordeaux, Napa Valley to South Africa, transformed their grapes into incredible wines. But here in the Monte, owners of generations-old wineries—or bodegas as they were known in Spain—stayed fat and rich producing low-quality wines sold in jugs. They’ve loved proclaiming in the village square that the Monte was known for its winegrowing not winemaking. As the leaders of the Consejo Regulador del Monte, the regulatory board that in centuries past had ensured that only the best wines were sent to Spain’s royal family, these winemakers turned laziness into law and used their power to trap the Monte in old-fashioned ways.
The instant Bodega Sofia was announced, they’d harassed Sofia’s efforts every way they could. They’d denied her their stamp, making access to materials and shipping difficult. Their leader, Juan Carlos Pascual, appeared repeatedly in the press harping on her party-girl past and casting doubt on her winemaking abilities. And they bold-faced lied to her people, claiming she would insist on prohibitively expensive vineyard changes that would beggar them.
The Consejo sowed fear in the Monte, when Sofia wanted to add strength. She and her brothers feared that their sleepy little kingdom would become comatose without the money and tourism of a reinvigorated wine industry. While the finances of the Monte had stabilized, the kingdom was still losing its young people to the greater world. A local wine industry focused on Monte winemakers could bring in money, tourists, and jobs.
Without it, the Monte del Vino Real would become a ghost kingdom in a matter of years.
Namrita slipped the coat off her legs so Carmen Louisa could clean the wound. Confident the cut was clear of glass and didn’t need stitches, Carmen Louisa began to apply butterfly tabs and a larger bandage. She shoved alcohol swabs into Sofia’s hands to clean Namrita’s hand.
“You’re going to clean this mess down here, too,” Carmen Louisa said angrily. “Actúas como si fueras la única que tuvo un mal día. También estoy teniendo un mal día y...”
Sofia ignored her as she swiped at Namrita’s palm. “Aish Salinger knows only how to take; he believes everything is his due.” How dare she make her say these things. How dare she make her remember this. “He’s never had a contrite day in his life. How do we know he’ll agree to any of this?”
“Because he’s already said he would.” Namrita fingered the large white bandage on her leg. “His manager said he’ll be here for the launch.”
Sofia stood up, hooking her thumbs into her jeans and gripping her hips. “You...you had no right!”
“I know,” Namrita nodded, lowering her legs and pulling down her dress. “But I couldn’t present such an outrageous solution unless I knew he was on board.”
She effortlessly pushed Sofia into a corner.
“But...but...” Jesucristo, she might actually be sick again. “But how do you know this will work? What if you manufacture this spectacle and the wine world doesn’t care?”
“I sent an email to the intern candidates and asked if they’d join if Aish was here.” She crossed her wrists in her lap. “They all replied yes.”
Carmen Louisa gasped.
Sofia felt shock like lightning bursts in her chest. “All fifty candidates?”
Namrita nodded.
“But we...we only have twenty spots,” Carmen Louisa sputtered.
For the first time since her descent downstairs, Namrita smiled. It caused her cheeks to bloom roses, a sweet look inappropriate for this wrecking ball. “Then we’ll be able to pick and choose the best people, won’t we?”
Repeating that she hadn’t the right to contact the candidates was worthless at this point. Staggered, stunned, and feeling like her life was unraveling, Sofia looked openmouthed at Carmen Louisa for...for what? For the straight-talking rationalization she always provided as her mentor? The morale-boosting confidence she gave as her dear friend? The motherly guidance that her own mother was never there to provide?
But right now Carmen Louisa was neither her mentor, dear friend, or mother. Carmen Louisa was her partner and her employee. And her partner and employee had put her future in Sofia’s hands.
So had her brother and his wife, who believed Sofia’s efforts were the best course to bring industry and revenue to the
