Just then he turned from the road onto the long driveway that led to the hacienda. Brenna stiffened. Sex or no sex, she’d just brought the enemy onto Marcelli land.
Nic pulled in behind a silver BMW. There were several dozen cars parked along the wide road. White lights hung from trees and illuminated the walkway up to the three-story hacienda.
He’d grown up only a few miles from this house, but his world couldn’t have been more different. How many times had he crept out in the early evening and made his way to the Marcelli home? How many nights had he hidden in the bushes and watched through the brightly lit windows, hungry for the family he’d seen living inside? They’d belonged to each other, and to a boy who had belonged to no one, their lives had been perfect.
When he and Brenna had met and fallen in love, he’d actually thought he might one day be a part of this. A part of them. Welcomed into the family as one of their own. He’d wanted that nearly as much as he’d wanted her. In the end he’d lost both.
He shook off the memories. He wasn’t that kid anymore. He was a successful adult who had a shot at owning all this. Not the house—he no longer cared about that—but the land and the name.
“For the first time in my life, I’m wishing for a few minutes with Grandma Tessa’s rosary,” Brenna murmured. She turned to him. “Ready?”
He nodded and stepped out of the car.
From where he stood, he could see the large tent filling the backyard. The sides had been rolled up, allowing the evening breeze to drift across the set tables. More lights crisscrossed through the trees. People stood in groups, talking, laughing, holding wineglasses, no doubt toasting the happy couples with the best Lorenzo Marcelli had to offer.
“This is all going to be okay,” Brenna said when he moved next to her. She glanced at him and gave a faint smile. “I’ll give you a tour later, if you’d like.”
“Will it include your bedroom?”
“Very funny.” She drew in a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
He followed her toward the party-goers. The sound of music drifted to them, and as they neared the house, he spotted a dance floor set up in a garden. Two couples stood out in the swaying crowd. He recognized Brenna’s sisters—Katie and Francesca.
A uniformed young woman approached with a tray of drinks. Brenna took a glass of champagne, handed it to Nic, then snatched another for herself.
“If this is a small get-together for family and friends,” he said, “what does a big party look like?”
She gulped half her glass of wine. “I know. My mother doesn’t do things by halves, so that’s a problem. This time it was compounded by the fact that Katie is a professional organizer who specializes in giving parties for the rich and famous. It’s not a good combination if you’re going for small and intimate. I should warn you that dinner has about seventy-five courses.”
“Then I won’t fill up on hors d’oeuvres.”
She finished her champagne and set the empty glass on the edge of a garden planter. Nic took his first sip. Rather than admit he might be a little nervous at the prospect of meeting the Marcelli clan, he concentrated on the light scent and blend of bubbles and flavors in the sparkling wine. It was good. He tasted it again and decided that when he was in charge, he would expand production.
Brenna scanned the crowd. “Over there,” she said and linked her arm with his. “We’ll start easy and work our way up from there.”
He followed her gaze and saw her mother talking with an older couple he didn’t recognize. As they approached, Colleen Marcelli glanced over at her daughter, smiled, looked at him, and froze.
Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and she nearly spilled her glass of wine. But as quickly as it had come, the shock faded. Colleen excused herself from the older couple and approached them.
“Oh, God, oh, God,” Brenna muttered. Her fingers tightened around his arm. “Stay calm. Just stay calm.”
He wasn’t sure if the instruction was for her or for himself. Either way it was good advice.
“Brenna,” Colleen said as she approached. “You look lovely.”
Brenna cleared her throat. “Thanks. Um, Mom, this is—”
“I believe I already know your friend.”
Nic braced himself for the attack. Colleen handed her glass to her daughter, took his free hand in hers, and studied his face. “I see a lot of your grandfather in you,” she said. “And your father. Do you go by Nicholas or Nic?”
He hadn’t expected the question. “Nic.”
“Well, Nic, this night has been far too long in coming.” She smiled. “We’re delighted to have you here.”
Then she leaned forward and raised herself on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Welcome.”
Her graciousness surprised him. “Thank you, Mrs. Marcelli. I want you to know I’m here as Brenna’s guest. Not to make trouble.”
“Colleen,” she said. “Trouble was the furthest thing from my mind.” Her expression turned wry. “I’ve always thought the feud between our families was pretty silly, although my father-in-law would disagree. Now that you’re here, I can’t help thinking this meeting is years too late. I’m sorry about that.”
“Not a problem.”
He spoke the words easily. She sounded sincere. As if she were sorry. Brenna had always said her mother was a warm and caring person. Until now, Nic had never believed her.
Colleen glanced through the crowd. “Now, where is my husband?”
As she turned to look at the people standing by the tent, Brenna finished her mother’s champagne.
“One down, the rest of the clan left to go,” she whispered. “Of course she’s going to want an explanation later. Any ideas on what I should tell her?”
“That you’re hot for my body and think nothing of seducing me at a moment’s notice?”
“Bite me.”
He grinned. “When and where?”
Brenna’s gaze narrowed, but before she could snap at him, Colleen reached for his hand again. “There’s Marco. Come along. I’ll introduce you.” She smiled at her daughter. “I won’t keep him long.”
Brenna waved her hand. “Keep him for as long as you want. I won’t mind a bit.”
He glanced back and mouthed “liar” as Colleen led him away to introduce him to their guests.
Marco Marcelli concealed his surprise better than his wife had, but he was just as gracious. Family friends from the area were obviously shocked to see him on Marcelli land, but they smiled politely. Nic figured there would be more than one midnight call about the party.
The grandmothers were reserved, Tessa Marcelli more so than Mary-Margaret O’Shea. Still, they welcomed him. Nic wondered if they would be so friendly if they knew that he and Brenna had once planned to run away together.
He knew what their reaction would be if they figured out he was going to use every means at his disposal to buy Marcelli Wines. But he understood that. If the situation were reversed, he would be just as furious.
Nic found himself an observer rather than a participant in the evening. He’d known about the Marcellis all his life. His grandfather had talked about the family, he’d run into them at local events, passed them in the post office. But except for Brenna, he’d never spoken to them. Now they were accepting him as one of their own.
He’d always seen them as the enemy. Funny how they were turning out to be just regular people.
“I’m Mia,” a young woman said, slipping between Nic and Colleen. “The youngest, the smartest, the most fun. And you’re Nic Giovanni.”
“I know.”
Mia grinned. Streaks of blond lightened her dark hair. She wore a strapless dress that barely came to mid-thigh and high heels that looked expensive and dangerous. Heavy makeup emphasized her big eyes and full lips. She was Lolita at eighteen.
Mia took his hand in hers and brought his arm around behind her so he rested his palm on her hip. “Everyone is talking, but then you expected that.”
“It’s not a big surprise.”
“You like making trouble.”
He thought about the trouble he and Brenna had made early that evening. “Sometimes.”
Mia placed her fingers on his chest. “All my sisters had wild crushes on you when they were growing up, even me. Of course, I’m the only one who will admit it.”
“I’m flattered.”
Her brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “But not shocked.”
“No.”
“Do you have the hots for my sister?”
Before he could decide on a politically correct answer to a charged question, he heard a low murmur of voices behind him. He disentangled himself from Mia and turned to find Lorenzo Marcelli stalking toward him.
“Who let you in?” Lorenzo demanded. Anger and insult pulsed in every word.
Suddenly Marco was at Nic’s side. “Nic is a guest.”
Lorenzo moved closer. “He wasn’t invited. No Giovanni would ever be invited.”
“He’s with Brenna.”
A muscle twitched in the old man’s cheek. He muttered something in Italian, something Nic couldn’t catch or translate, then turned and moved away.
Marco put a hand on Nic’s shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse my father. He’s an old man. Very stubborn. For him the feud between our families lives on.”
Nic glanced at Lorenzo as he disappeared into the crowd, then turned back to Marco. “I’m glad you don’t agree with him.”
Marco smiled. “It was sixty years ago. I have trouble remembering last week.” He dropped his hand and held open his arm. “Here comes your date.”
Nic saw Brenna approaching.
“I heard the thunder of disapproval clear across the lawn,” she said. “Did he say anything awful?”
“Nothing unexpected,” Nic said. “I’m an intruder.”
“Termites are an intruder. You’re a welcome guest,” Marco told him. “We will have dinner soon. You’ll eat, you’ll talk, you’ll enjoy.”
Brenna smiled at her father. “You sound like Grandma Tessa.”
Marco winced. “Don’t tell me I sound like an old woman.”
He kissed her cheek and stepped away. Brenna pulled Nic to the edge of the crowd. “How’s it going? Is it too awful?”
“Everyone is being very gracious.”
“Except my grandfather.”
“I didn’t expect anything different.”
“Me, either. I wonder if he’ll fire me.”
Nic raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”
“No.” She sank into a chair. “He’ll be crabby for a few days, but nothing more. I saw my mom introducing you to people.”
“She’s been very nice.” He took the seat next to hers. “Mia said all your sisters had crushes on me.”
Brenna rolled her eyes. “Great. Like you need an ego boost. I gotta tell you, Nic, you’re not as hot as all that.”
He leaned close. “Yes, I am. Do I need to remind you what we were doing—”
She cut him off with a frantic shake of her head. “Don’t say anything. My grandmothers could hear. Do you know how completely creepy that would be?”
“Okay, I don’t want the old ladies knowing, either.”
She looked at him. “Is this too weird? Being here like this? I mean I never invited you before.”
Before. When they’d been desperately in love. When belonging had mattered as much as loving her.
“It’s not what I expected,” he admitted. “I didn’t think I’d like your family.”
“But you do?”
“Most of them.”
