The Winemaker Read online

  To hell with it. Nothing would make her feel more secure or better than to have someone in her life, even if only for a little while. Someone who liked her. Who made her feel good about herself. She looked at Luca’s sleeping form more attentively. He was handsome. She liked his rebel ways, but he was such a boy compared to the man she craved. She almost laughed out loud. Luca was like a brother to her. She was like a sister to him. It could never work. The only alternative was Marcos.

  At least, fighting for Marcos wouldn’t be grabbing at someone on the rebound. She would fight for what was hers. She had fought a man with a gun in his pocket two nights ago and won. What was fighting a slim, sexy, blonde agent compared to that? She grinned at the thought. If she directed her attention enough toward that goal, she might just achieve it. It would help ease the itch she felt for Etán. She had to get him out of her mind faster than she had to learn to control her visions before it was too late to save her heart.

  Once back at the estate, Zenna looked with exasperation at the flowers on the desk in her bedroom. So, Etán was a man who overcompensated for his guilt by showering the object of his injustice with things—like dozens of pink roses. The minute they arrived home, he had gone out after checking security was well in place and returned with an expensive leather handbag. He offered it to her with an apology for his improper behavior of kissing her.

  It was like rubbing salt into her wounds. She had refused to take the gift, saying kissing her hadn’t been improper. Offering her a handbag to apologize was improper. Now, the flowers with another apology note... Didn’t the man get the message? For how much longer was he going to insult her?

  She picked up one of the four vases filled to the brim with perfect roses and marched from her bedroom straight to his. She knocked, pushed the door open with one hand in animated anger, and barged into his room, expecting to find him working at his desk, where he said he was going to be.

  “I thought I was clear when I...” she started, but then her words dried up as she stared at Etán’s gloriously naked form. Her eyes slipped down and then flicked back up to his face quickly, a deep, red shade spreading from her neck to her cheeks.

  She turned her head away. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I’ve caught you at a bad time.” She held the vase with the pink roses toward him. “I came to tell you I don’t want these. Take them and stop giving me things just because you regret kissing me.”

  He took the vase sheepishly, hovering between bending or turning, apparently undecided as whether to turn his naked backside to her or to put down the flowers and grab a towel. “I...” he nodded towards the bathroom, “I just came out of the shower. I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “Well, I did.” Zenna turned her head back an inch, but forced her eyes to remain on his face. “I’m ... going now.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder at the door, backtracking in that direction. “Get the rest of your flowers when you’re dressed. Give them to someone who actually cares.”

  She was about to turn when she heard Teresa’s voice from the doorway. “Senorita Rambling, the therapist is...” Then Teresa’s voice trailed off as she stopped dead. “Ay Dios mío ... I’m sorry...” She did a little waltz, moving this way and that, looking uncertain as to which direction to run into.

  Etán had a silly, sheepish grin on his face, and did his best to hide his naked parts behind the bouquet of pink roses he now clutched in his hands. They heard the housekeeper’s rubber soles scurrying down the hallway. Zenna found she was at a loss for words once more. She turned and rushed back to her own bedroom, closing the door tightly behind her.

  * * * *

  When Etán walked into the dining room for dinner, Luca didn’t bother to hide his laugher. Ana and Pedro had decided to stay over after the day’s traveling and were waiting with Luca. Zenna had excused herself, saying she was too exhausted to join them, blaming her tiredness on the session she had had before dinner with the therapist. The well-known therapist, the one Etán had insisted she see, had come to the house, to help her deal with the trauma of the past events. Instead of asking Teresa for a light meal to eat in her quarters, she prepared something when she knew Teresa would be busy elsewhere. She was too embarrassed to face the housekeeper.

  “What’s so funny?” Etán snapped at his younger brother.

  Luca folded his hands on his lap. “The gossip.”

  “What gossip?”

  “First, a hotel room cleaner told all the hotel staff she saw you slipping out of Zenna’s room at nine this morning. Then Teresa came running down the hallway looking like she’s seen a ghost, while Zenna was cozily visiting you in your room. Am I wrong in presuming Teresa had walked in on something she shouldn’t have?”

  “That doesn’t mean a thing.” Etán appeared casual as he poured himself a glass of wine, and walked around the dining room table to take his habitual place.

  “No?” Luca’s eyebrows lifted. “I can feel the desire and sexual tension from a mile, man. It’s so intense that you, for the first time in your life, cannot hide it from me.”

  “Luca,” Ana reprimanded, “let Etán be. We’ve all been through a rough couple of days. This is not the time, nor the place. It’s Etán’s private business.”

  Luca shrugged. “I was just saying.”

  Contrary to the outburst they all expected, Etán smiled. “Jealous?” he directed at Luca.

  Luca snorted. “Of you? Not a chance.”

  Pedro cleared his throat. “Boys, I think we should discuss more important issues.”

  He paused as Teresa entered with the entrée and served them each a plate. She avoided Etán’s eyes. Luca chuckled, and Pedro cleared his throat again.

  Pedro waited until Teresa left the room. “I spoke to my contact in the police department. Forensic evidence indicates the murder victim was Santiago. However, there’s no trace of the body. The police are interrogating Xavier and Zako. They believe they’ll have more information soon. In the meantime, they’ve taken down a small core of a bigger, worldwide operation right here in Santiago. Zako confessed that Xavier’s men took charge of the body, but he has no idea how they dispatched of it. Xavier is a horse of a different caliber. He’s not talking. Yet.”

  Etán took a bite of salad. “What about the service station? Any links between the owner and potential gangs or organizations?”

  Pedro folded his hands on the table. “Nothing. There are no obvious connections.”

  Luca took the bottle of wine to refill his glass. “So, there is a kidnapping, a murder, and no body.”

  Pedro sighed. “Not yet. From the last satellite recording my source could pull up, there is a visual of Zenna assaulting the assailant, then he, Zako, disappears for several minutes, presumably chasing her. Sometime later, one of Xavier’s cronies reappears, carries Santiago’s body to the van, and drives it into a tunnel on the southern highway, and that’s where we lost him. The satellite footage had a cut for a few seconds, and he would have exited on a spider web of off-ramps. It’s impossible to say what exactly happened after. Now it’s in police hands. My source can’t risk leaking more information without getting caught. I’m afraid whoever is out there knows Zenna escaped and that she’s here.”

  Luca drank his wine in big gulps. “This is like a thriller movie. How secure are the grounds and the house?”

  “Very,” Pedro said. “We have put the best company and the best men in place.”

  “Any word on how someone like Santiago could have ended up being hired by a security company?” Etán asked darkly.

  “No, son.” Pedro unfolded his linen napkin and picked up his fork. “The company does excellent screenings of all their potential candidates. Nothing in the initial screening or later training program indicated Santiago could be a potential defector, but they have assured me they are dealing with it. They are investigating all possible people or organizations with which Santiago might have had contact. Needless to say, they are scrapping all our bills for the hotel saga.”

>   Etán laid his knife and fork neatly on the plate in front of him. “It’s not about the money. I’m worried about their efficiency as a company. Now Zenna is even more at risk. Pretty much everyone knows, whoever they are, private or governmental.”

  “My guess is private,” mused Pedro. “If it was a secret government organization, the case wouldn’t have gotten all the resources or attention it did from police officials.”

  “What about Enrique?” Ana looked at her husband. “Have you had any feedback from him yet?”

  “Yes, he called me about an hour ago, saying Zenna is in the clear. She isn’t a suspect. There are no charges against her. She had to lay charges, which brought attention to her. Attention she may not want.”

  “When can you start working with Zenna, Mom?” Etán suddenly felt anxious again. There were too many loopholes and too many risks.

  “Margarita is coming tomorrow. I’ve asked her to stay here for a few days or for however long it takes Zenna to get a handle on her gift. I’ll stay as long as needed.”

  Ana looked from Luca to Etán. “You boys have to be especially considerate during this time. It won’t be easy.”

  Luca stopped eating. “She’s going to suffer, you mean?”

  Ana hesitated. “She may suffer. How much will depend on the regression of her conscious control. Either way, it’s going to be hard on her and us.”

  Luca looked serious for once in his life. “I can be here more often, Etán. I can help support her.”

  Etán didn’t answer. He wanted his brother around. He liked his presence. He even hoped Luca would finally get involved in the family business, but he didn’t like the idea of him hanging around Zenna too much.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Zenna had a quick, early breakfast in the kitchen, pulled on a wool coat, and walked briskly to the office building. She was thankful for the warmth when she closed the office door behind her. She left her coat on the hook by the door, greeted Emmie, who was already at her desk, and sat down at her own. She booted up her laptop and plugged it into the charger.

  Emmie got up and came around her desk. She walked to Zenna’s, carrying her cup of coffee in one hand, and a magazine in the other. She looked ill at ease.

  She cleared her throat. “How are you, Zenna?”

  Zenna looked up from her laptop, smiling brightly. “I’m fine.”

  Emmie fumbled for words. “I heard ... the launch went very well. You had a record attendance. Congratulations. Etán is very pleased.”

  Zenna opened a writing pad in which she had scribbled notes about the events for the report she was about to type up. “My mother always told me something my father had taught her—food is the best bribe.”

  Emmie frowned.

  “I included the menu with the invitation, remember?”

  Emmie smiled. “Yes. It was a scrumptious menu.”

  Zenna smiled back at the younger girl. “Well, there you’ve got it. Proof my mother is right. The path to man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  Emmie sighed. “If only it was that easy. I doubt my cooking is going to make my boyfriend love me more. I’m afraid I’ve never learned how to do it.”

  Zenna gave an ironic little smile. She thought about her chicken casserole on the night Marcos had left her. He had never asked what was for dinner.

  “Don’t feel alone. It didn’t work for me either.”

  Emmie’s gaze grew somber. “Listen, Zenna ... I’m sorry about what happened at the launch. Are you ... all right?”

  Zenna put down her pen. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” She looked into the distance, not wanting to think about those events. “Does everyone know?”

  She had always dealt with the insults of ignorant people who were skeptical about her abilities. Some people considered her abnormal. She wondered how the people in Etán’s office were going to react to the new knowledge.

  Emmie nodded. “Etán called us and told us all. He said we needed to know. In case ... you know ... something happens.”

  Zenna’s throat tightened. “Nothing is going to happen.”

  Emmie hesitated. She appeared uncertain how to continue and looked away guiltily. “It was my fault.”

  Zenna gave her a puzzled look. “Why would it be your fault?”

  “I placed that photo in the newspaper. I didn’t know.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did your job. There’s nothing wrong in that.” Zenna hated that Emmie should feel guilty about something she, Zenna, was trying to hide from the world.

  “I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

  “No apology needed, but thank you.”

  “I don’t think you’re a freak.”

  Sometimes Emmie was so direct. “And others do?” Zenna lifted an eyebrow.

  Emmie looked as if she had been caught out. “Some ... may, but I wanted you to know I don’t.”

  Great. All she needed was for the ordeal of her childhood years to start all over again. Freak. Weirdo. She remembered it like yesterday.

  “Thank you, Emmie.”

  “I ... I wanted to give you this ... before you hear it from anyone else.” Emmie held out the magazine to Zenna.

  Zenna glanced at the masthead. “Gossip? That’s kind, but I don’t read these kinds of magazines.”

  Emmie sipped at her coffee and grinned. “You should.”

  Zenna took the magazine cautiously. “What’s this about, Emmie?”

  Emmie’s grin widened. “Page nine.”

  Zenna flicked to the page. Her eyes widened. There was the photo taken of Etán and her at the launch, the one where he had brushed his fingers over her cheek. From the photographer’s perspective it really looked like a lover’s caress. The photo was splashed over a third of the page.

  Her eyes skimmed over the head- and bylines. Latest hot gossip. Country’s best enologist caresses new PR agent in public. Her eyes flicked over parts of the body text. What is Etán Perez-Cruz hiding? Who is the red dress at Etán’s side? Etán finally defrosting. Etán’s new lover. Is famous winemaker falling for a seer?

  She looked up, shocked. “This is absurd. It wasn’t like that at all.”

  Emmie swung the now empty coffee mug by its handle. “You don’t have to explain to me. She pointed to the text. “Says that hotel staff spotted Etán leaving your room in the early morning.”

  Zenna dropped the magazine and caught her head in her hands. “Oh, God,” she groaned.

  The door opened, letting in a cold rush of air before it flicked shut. Emmie turned, and Zenna looked up. Etán removed a coat and left it on the coat stand.

  He smiled at them. “Good morning, ladies.”

  Emmie scurried back to her desk. “Morning, boss,” she said, giving him a meaningful look.

  He frowned and smiled, looking puzzled. He turned to Zenna. “You’re obviously not having a good one.”

  Zenna closed the magazine and slipped it underneath the writing pad. She looked warily at Etán. They hadn’t spoken since the previous night’s utterly embarrassing situation, and she wasn’t sure she could add a gossip magazine’s speculation about their alleged secret affair to that little debacle.

  Her eyes roamed over his tall, broad form. He sure did have a good body. Her gaze slipped down involuntarily. A hell of a good one. Disturbed at her sudden thoughts, her eyes shot back to his face. Catching the amusement in his, a flush slithered up her neck.

  He carried a newspaper under his arm, which he held to her. She took it lamely, glancing at the front page. There was a photo of the launch under the masthead, referring to an article on the social page. Zenna didn’t look up as she turned the pages to find the article. It was a nice spread.

  “Good coverage,” she mumbled. “Seems some of our effort with the media paid off.”

  “You’ve done an excellent job. The first wine reviews are being published on the internet this morning. It will be our best launch, ever. Our best wine, and our best launch.” He looked at the blush tha
t had spread to her cheeks. “Liked what you saw?” he asked with a devilish smile.

  There was no mistaking the double meaning in his words. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Her face flushed even more. She was aware of Emmie staring at them from behind her desk. “I didn’t pay attention,” she bit out.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Scared of biting off more than you can chew?”

  She glared at him. She got his little play on words. He was laughing at her, silently, enjoying her embarrassment. He was obviously in a teasing mood. A good mood. She wasn’t.

  “Anything in the magazines, yet?” He pointed at the one she was hiding underneath the writing pad.

  Bollocks. She didn’t think he had noticed.

  She shook her head quickly. “No, not about the launch.”

  “Only about you guys,” Emmie said from her desk.

  Zenna shot the other girl a dark look, but it was too late. Etán leaned forward, cupped her hand resting on the writing pad with his, moved it aside gently, and pulled the magazine from its hiding place.

  Zenna sat helpless, watching him fan through the pages, easily coming to a halt on the page Emmie had earmarked. She watched his eyes roam over the page, his expression tightening, his jaw clenching. She knew he was going to be upset, but it was all his fault for putting them in that situation. He was the one who couldn’t control his fingers. He kept on kissing her and telling her he didn’t mean to do it. If he hadn’t sent her the roses, she wouldn’t have seen him naked. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. He was such a male chauvinist.

  She wanted to say something sarcastic, when her eyes fell on the back page. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes on the almost full-page photo. It was a photo of Marcos with a stunning blonde woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful. They were walking down some street, the drop dead gorgeous woman’s arm hooked through Zenna’s ex-fiancé’s. The wind was blowing through their hair. They looked utterly glamorous, and utterly happy. Marcos had told her how pretty Monica was, but she had never expected such a bomb. Everything about her was perfect. She read the heading. Model and agent engaged. Her eyes moved back to the photo and down, to the woman’s left hand draped over Marcos’ arm. There it was. The ring she never had.