Wed on His Terms: Million-Dollar Marriage Merger

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“You mean you had it closed for my benefit?”

“You haven’t had any use for me since I returned. I didn’t think you’d like answering questions about being out with me tonight if anyone saw us.”

Rena had almost forgotten that the Carlinos had their hands in other enterprises. They owned a few restaurants as well as the winery. They also owned stores in outlying areas that sold a line of products related to wine.

“This isn’t a date, Tony. Just so we’re clear.”

Tony nodded. “Very clear.”

Rena strode past him and waited for him to exit her house before she locked the front door. She moved quickly, and once he beeped his car alarm, she didn’t wait for him to open the car door. She climbed into his Porsche and adjusted the seat belt.

“Ready?” he asked unnecessarily. Once they made eye contact, he roared the engine to life. “It’s a nice night. Mind if I put the top down?”

“No, I could use a good dose of fresh air.”

It’s how Tony liked to drive, with the top down, the air hitting his face, mastering the car and the road beneath.

He hit a button, and mechanically the car transformed. He drove the road to Napa surprisingly slowly, as if they were out for a Sunday drive. Every so often, he glanced her way. She couldn’t deny his courtesy.

Or the fact that she thought him the most devastatingly handsome man she’d ever met. She’d thought so since they’d first met the day he entered public school at the age of sixteen. Up until that point, the Carlinos had gone to an elite private school. But Tony hated the regimented lifestyle, the solitude and discipline of being in an academy. Finally, his father had relented, granting his sons the right to go through the public school system.

Tony had made a lasting impression on her, and they’d started out as friends. But the friendship had grown as they’d gotten closer, and Rena had become Tony’s steady girlfriend two years later.

Despite his obvious wealth and place in Napa society.

Despite the fact that Santo Carlino and her father had become bitter enemies.

Despite the fact that Rena never truly believed she could have a lasting relationship with Tony.

“Care for some music?” he asked, reaching for the CD player button.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be quiet.”

She didn’t want to rekindle memories of driving in Tony’s car with the top down and the music blasting. Of laughing and telling silly jokes, enjoying each other’s company.

“Okay,” he said amiably.

They drove in silence, Tony respecting her wishes. Shortly, he pulled into Alberto’s back parking lot. “I usually don’t resort to back alley entrance ways,” he said, with no hint of irritation. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, actually quite hungry.”

“Good, the food is waiting for us.”

Before she managed to undo her seat belt, Tony was there, opening the car door for her. He reached his hand inside, and rather than appearing incredibly stubborn in his eyes, she slid her hand in his while he helped her out. The Porsche sat so low to the ground she would have fumbled like an idiot anyway, trying to come up smoothly to a standing position.

Sensations ripped through her instantly. The contact, the intimate way his large hand enveloped her smaller one, trampled any false feeling of ease she’d imagined. She fought the urge to whip her hand away. Instead, she came out of the car and stood fully erect before slipping her hand out of his. Composing herself, she thanked him quietly and followed him inside the restaurant.

“This way,” he said and gestured to a corner booth lit by candlelight. True to his word, the entire restaurant was empty but for them. She sat down at one end of the circular booth, while he sat at the other.

The few times Rena had come here, she’d always felt as though she’d wandered in from the streets in Tuscany with its old world furnishings and stone fountains. Alberto’s was one of finest restaurants in the county, serving gourmet fare and the best wines from Napa.

“I had the chef prepare a variety of food. I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“You forgot that I loved pepperoni pizza?”

Tony’s mouth twisted. “No one could inhale pizza like you, Rena. But I doubt it’s on the menu tonight. Let’s go into the kitchen and see what the chef conjured up for us.”

Tony bounded up from the booth and waited. She rose and walked beside him until they reached the state-of-the-art kitchen. They found covered dishes on the immaculate steel counter along with fresh breads, salads and a variety of desserts sitting in the glass refrigerator.

Tony lifted one cover and announced. “Veal scaloppine, still hot.”

Rena looked on with interest.

Tony lifted another cover. “Linguine arrabiatta, black tiger shrimps with bacon and garlic.”

Steam rose up, and she leaned in closer. “Hmm, smells good.”

He lifted two more covers displaying filetto di bue, an oven roasted filet mignon, which smelled heavenly but was too heavy for Rena’s tastes, and ravioli di zucca, which Tony explained was spinach ravioli with butternut and Amaretto filling. Since entering the aromatic kitchen, Rena’s appetite had returned wholeheartedly.

“The ravioli looks good,” she said. “And that salad.” She pointed to a salad with baby greens, avocado, tangerines and candied walnuts.

“Great,” Tony said lifting the covered dish of her choice. And one for him. “If you could grab that salad, we’ll eat. Soon as I find us a bottle of wine.”

“Oh, no wine for me,” she announced. Tony glanced at her with a raised brow but didn’t question her. “I’ll have water.”

“Your poison,” he said with a smile. He set the dishes down on the table and took off again, bringing back a bottle of Carlino Cabernet and a pitcher of water.

They settled in for the meal in silence, Rena polishing off the delicious salad within minutes and Tony sipping his wine, eyeing her every move. “Quit looking at me.”

“You’re the best looking thing in this place.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t, Tony.”

He shrugged it off. “Just stating the obvious.”

When he turned on the charm, he had enough for the entire Napa Valley and then some. “Do you mind telling me what’s so important that you couldn’t tell me earlier this afternoon?”

“After dinner, Rena.”

With her water glass to her lips, she asked, “Why?”

“I want you to eat your meal.”

She gathered her brows and shook her head. “Because … what you have to say might destroy my appetite?”

Tony inhaled sharply then blew out the breath. “Because you’re hungry and exhausted, that’s why.”

“Why the sudden concern about my well-being?”

Tony softened his tone. “I’ve always cared about you, Rena.”

“No, Tony. We’re not going there. Ever,” she emphasized. She wouldn’t go down that mental path. She and Tony had way too much history, and she thought she’d never heal from the wounds he’d inflicted.

“Can’t you just forget for a few minutes who I am and who you are? Can’t we break bread together quietly and enjoy a good meal?”

Rena relented but still questioned Tony’s mysterious behavior. “Fine. I’ll eat before the ravioli gets cold.”

“That’s a girl.”

She shot him a look.

He raised his hands up in surrender. “Sorry.” Then he dug into his filet mignon with gusto and sipped wine until he’d drained two goblets.

After finishing their entrées, Tony cleared the dishes himself, refusing Rena’s help. He needed time to collect his thoughts and figure out how he was going to propose marriage to his best friend’s new widow and not come off sounding callous and cruel. There was only one route to take and that was to tell her the truth.

Hell, he hadn’t ever really thought about marriage to anyone but Rena Fairfield. As teenagers, they’d spent many a night daydreaming of the time when they’d marry. But then Rena’s mother became ill, and Tony had been given a real opportunity to pursue his dream of racing stock cars. Leaving Rena behind to care for her ailing mother and help her father run Purple Fields had been the only black spot in an otherwise shining accomplishment. Begging her to join him served no purpose. She couldn’t leave. She had family obligations. She loved making wine. She loved Purple Fields. She was born to live in Napa, where Tony had been born to race.

He’d hurt her. No, he’d nearly destroyed her.

Each time he’d called her from the racing circuit, she’d become more and more distant. Until one day, she asked him not to call anymore. Two years later, she’d married David. He hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

Tony covered a tray with tiramisu, spumoni ice cream and chocolate-coated cannolis. He returned to Rena and answered her skepticism as she watched him place the food on the table. “What? Regardless of what you think, I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. We had to do chores at the house. My father was a stickler for pulling your own weight.”

“I would think you’re one who is used to being served.”

“I am. I won’t deny it. Life is good now. I’m wealthy and can afford—”

“Shutting down a restaurant for the night to have a private dinner?”

“Yeah, among other things.”

“I guess I should feel honored that you served me dinner. You must have a good reason.”

“I do.” He glanced at the desserts on the table and moved a dish of spumoni her way. “You love ice cream. Dig in.”

Rena didn’t hesitate. She picked up a spoon and dove into the creamy Italian fare.

Tony dipped into it as well, butting spoons with her. They made eye contact, and Rena turned away quickly. How often had they shared ice cream in the past?

After three spoonfuls of spumoni, Rena pushed the dish away. “Okay, Tony. I’ve had dinner with you. No one is around. So are you going to tell me why you needed to speak to me?”

“I know you hate me, Rena.”

She steered her gaze toward the fountain in the middle of the dining area. “Hate is a strong word.”

“So, you don’t hate me?” he asked, with a measure of hope.

She looked into his eyes again. “I didn’t say that.”

Tony didn’t flinch. He’d prepared himself for this. “What did David say to you before he died?”

She straightened in her seat, her agitated body language not to be missed. “That’s none of your business.”

“Fair enough. But I need to tell you what he asked of me, Rena. I need you to hear his last words to me as I rode beside him in the ambulance.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Tony was a sucker for Rena’s tears. He never could stand to see her cry.

For a moment, fear entered her eyes as if hearing David’s words would cause her too much pain. But then, courageously, she nodded, opening her eyes wide. “Okay. Yes, I do want to hear what he said.”

Tony spoke quietly, keeping his voice from cracking. “He told me he loved you.” Rena inhaled a quick breath, and those tears threatened again. “And that you deserved a good life.”

“He was the kindest man,” she whispered.

“His last thoughts were only of you.”

A single tear fell from her eyes. “Thank you, Tony. I needed to hear that.”

“I’m not through, Rena. There’s more.”

She sat back in her seat and leaned heavily against the back of the booth, bracing herself. “Okay.”

“He asked me to to watch out for you. Protect you. And I intend to do just that. Rena, I intend to marry you.”

Four (#u7d6127dc-e3bf-576e-b74e-3e1e7f64c101)

Tony might as well have said he was going to fly to the moon on a broomstick; his declaration was just as ridiculous. Still, Rena couldn’t contain her shock. Her mouth dropped open. She couldn’t find the words.

Her heart broke thinking that David’s very last thoughts and concerns hadn’t been for himself but for her. But at the same time, if what Tony had said was true, then a wave of anger built at her departed husband as well. How could he even suggest such a thing? Asking Tony to take care of her? To protect her? He was the last man on earth she trusted, and David knew that.

Didn’t he?

“You can’t be serious,” she finally got out once a tumultuous array of emotions swept through her system.

“I’m dead serious, Rena.” He pinned her with a sharp unrelenting look.

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe. But it’s David’s last wishes.”

“You’re saying he asked you to marry me?” Rena kept a tight reign on her rising blood pressure.

Tony nodded. “I promised him, Rena.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” She shook her head so hard that her hair slipped out of its clip.

Tony held steady peering into her eyes. “Tell me what he said to you. His last words.”

“He said,” she began, her voice shaky, her expression crestfallen. “He said he loved me. And that he wanted me to keep Purple Fields.” She looked down for a moment to compose herself. “He knew how much it meant to me.”