Page 161 of The Wrong Vintage
And they expect us to believe there’s nothing going on between them? Honestly—how stupid do they think we are?
“Friends?” Renzo splutters. “He’s a fucking kid.”
“So is my sister,” Alba says sweetly and even flutters her eyelashes for extra effect.
Renzo isn’t even listening to us; he’s glowering at Toni, who’s talking a mile a minute to Piero.
Nico grabs my arm. “Dolcezza, what are you three up to?”
I give him my most innocent, wide-eyed look. “What do you mean?”
He spears me with a warning stare.
Thankfully, his phone rings then, and he swears. “Cazzo! We’re late.” He answers the call. “We’re on our way. Just serve them some wine…call it a tasting.” Pause. “Well, some coffee then if it’s too early for wine.” He hangs up and looks at me. “Is 11 a.m. too early for a wine tasting?”
“Depends, are your guests Americans?”
“Yes.”
“They are weird about when they drink wine, keep wanting it to be happy hour.”
Before Nico can answer, we hear Toni giggle. Loudly. She’s not the giggly kind, and it’s over the top, but poor Piero, who is staring at her, doesn’t know that.
This has disaster written all over it.
“You know, Toni, we should talk about your project.” Renzo steps beside her and glares at Piero.
Toni pushes Renzo away. “Don’t you have a meeting? You said you can’t have coffee with me because you have a meeting.” She pouts at him and then flashes a million-watt smile at Piero, who is about to go into apoplectic shock.
“She’s good!” Alba murmurs.
“Oh yeah,” I agree.
“You’re all up to something,” Nico says in resignation.
I wave him away. “Go for your meeting. We’re just…hanging out…you know, being sisters.”
Toni leans in close to Piero, her voice dropping to a silken, conspiratorial whisper. “Honestly, how do you keep track of all those…meetings and calls? So many spinning plates. So many hidden agendas.”
Piero stammers. “Ah…well…I…manage.”
“That’s because you’re brilliant.”
She’s laying it on so thick I’m surprised Piero can’t see through it.
“I am always very busy,” he gushes.
“Why don’t I take you for a drink as I promised?” Toni purrs, tipping her chin and peering up sweetly in practiced innocence.
Nico’s posture stiffens—not with suspicion, but with that protective set of his shoulders when Toni cranks up her charm to eleven.
Renzo’s jaw tightens. “The fuck is she up to?”
“Renzo, we’ve got to go.” Nico puts his hand on his arm probably to steer him away from punching poor Piero in the face. “We have the people from Stag’s Leap waiting in the conference room.” He drops a quick kiss on my lips. “Dinner?”
I nod. “Yes, please.”
He frowns. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks again.
