Chapter 4
Louis studied his unsuspecting soon-to-be-bride as she scrutinized the food and he couldn’t help but smile. She was literally picking at every morsel of food analyzing the textures and the tastes, most likely looking for cooking flaws.
“Is the food to your liking?” he asked her and immediately drew her attention.
“Oh it is, you must have a very skilled chef,” she said smiling, and although he could see the slight blush in her cheeks, she kept her poise.
“I believe you are a master chef back in America,” he stated and took a sip of his wine.
“Hardly a master, but I know my way around the kitchen and I know what people like to eat,” she said confidently.
She isn’t exactly my type, he thought as he studied her. She was on the shorter side, and curvy, a complete contrast to the women that normally shared his bed. He also preferred blondes; she had long black curly hair that fell loosely over her shoulders and down her back. She was a little too average for his liking, but even so, she was not unsightly. He could definitely work with this and once she was his wife, he would ensure that she was treated to a makeover.
He heard her clear her throat and realized she was staring at him. Caught red handed he lifted his glass to his lips and kept eye contact with her over the brim of the glass until she averted her gaze. Shy – that was nothing short of adorable, he thought and smiled.
“Louis, why don’t you go show Belinda the winery, I’m sure she would love to see it?” his father suggested. And so it starts the game of ultimate seduction. He still had no idea why his father insisted on taking her as his bride. But going against his father’s wishes was not a chance he was willing to take. Besides, if he grew tired of her nothing would stop him of having a string of very willing mistresses.
He stood up and walked around the table then held out his hand for her, “Would you like to see the winery, signora?” he asked.
Instead of taking his hand she shifted her chair back and got up then kissed her father on his forehead and whispered something in his ear. She was rather mysterious. Just when he thought she was a shy and insecure mouse, who would easily be swayed, she acted the complete opposite, strong willed and determined.
“I’ve always been intrigued by wineries,” she said as they walked down the pebbled path.
“It is an art to create the perfect wine. It has been the essence and life source of our family for decades and is one of the most well-known brands in Italy. It started with my great grandfather who planted the first vineyard and it simply grew from there.”
She was intrigued by the whole process, and although she did have some knowledge of how wine was made, she didn’t know the details of how red wine was made differently from white wine. He explained to her that red wine is made from the pulp by fermenting the grapes with their skins, while white wine is made by fermenting the juices. He showed her the fermentation process and then took her through to where the grapes were being foot trodden, and for a moment she wanted to kick her shoes off and join the workers.
They spent most of the afternoon in the cellar where she got to taste some of the wines, and by nightfall, she felt all but normal. Her head was spinning a little and she felt braver than usual, even a little flirtatious.
“So, do you have a girlfriend?” she asked boldly as she wrapped her arms around one of the poles in the cellar. It was to have something to steady herself than anything else.
“That is a rather random question to ask a complete stranger,” he said laughing. And his laughter sent a shiver through her.
“It’s a normal question, I mean you have all this,” she started and gestured with her hand, “Not to mention the looks and the charm, surely you have a woman who shares your bed?”
Woah, that’s a little over the top Belinda, she scolded herself as he threw his head back laughing. But for the life of her, she could not control herself even if she wanted to. It was as if all her thoughts were about to pour out of her mouth like water from a burst water pipe.
“No bella, I have no woman sharing my bed. Not yet anyway,” he teased standing far too close for comfort.
She inhaled deeply and then breathed out, blowing her hair away from her forehead. “I’m sorry, it was a little rude asking you such a private question. It must be the wine that is influencing my filters,” she apologized and moved away from him, half stumbling until she leaned against one of the wine barrels.
He moved closer as if she was his prey and as he reached out he ran his fingers up her bare arm, “It appears that the truth serum is working as expected,” he said huskily.
“I-I’m n-not much of a t-truth serum fan,” she stammered and slipped out from under his burning gaze and scooted along the wall. He was just far too intense.