Decadent

All she wants is a taste…

But can she resist wanting more?

Alessandra Baroni has had her fill of American men. So arrogant. Like handsome-as-the-devil Dante Donato, who’s determined to buy back the winery his family once owned—even if it means playing deliciously dirty! But Dante has met his match in Alessandra. Now the stakes are getting wicked…and with this much heat even the coldest of hearts is in danger of falling hard.

ALEXX ANDRIA is a USA TODAY bestselling romance author who writes about bad boys with a tough exterior but a soft, warm heart deep down. She loves sweet but dirty romance with lots of witty banter and, of course, sizzling scenes in the bedroom (or kitchen…or wherever they happen to end up) and a guaranteed HEA.

Decadent

Alexx Andria

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08688-2

DECADENT

© 2019 Kimberly Sheetz

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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My deepest gratitude and appreciation goes out to Pat and Lori Dodd, for their gracious help (and lovely hosting of our Italian dinner) in building the foundation behind my fictitious winery, Castello di Baroni. Your help and expertise in both the wine industry and the Italian way of life was invaluable in crafting this book. You provided a treasure trove of information that was tactile, tasty and educational that I will never forget.

Any mistakes are my own, and no reflection of the generous information shared.

Thank you so much!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Quote

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

“Inside my soul a treasure is buried.

The key is mine and only mine.

How right you are, you drunken monster!

I know: the truth is in the wine.”

(“The Unknown Lady”)

—Alexander Blok

CHAPTER ONE

Dante

“YOU CAME A long way for nothing. As I told your father previously, Castello di Baroni isn’t for sale, nor will it ever be.” Alessandra Baroni, sole living heir to the centuries-old Tuscan winery, wasn’t pleased. But out of courtesy, she sat stiffly through my requested meeting.

“In my experience, everything and everyone has a price,” I returned, undeterred. I wouldn’t back down. I was leaving Italy with the deed to this historic winery, one way or another.

The green-eyed beauty narrowed her gaze. “Your presumption that my position might change with a face-to-face was a waste of both our time. I am a busy woman, Mr. Donato. I do not have the luxury of idle conversation.”

I took my time before saying, “For a winery steeped in tradition and generational heritage… I am surprised a woman is at the head of the business table.”

Her eyes flashed but whatever temper flared, she kept reined in. A slow smile followed, which seemed far more dangerous. “Careful, Mr. Donato…one might accuse you of being a misogynist.”

He’d been called worse.

Her Italian accent flavored her impeccable English, giving an otherwise sharp rebuke an exotic flair.

I smiled with amusement. Even with the influence of modern thinking, the wine business remained stubbornly patriarchal—particularly in Italy. The majority of wineries privileged enough to earn the right to place a Chianti Classico label on their vintage were controlled by men. That black rooster seal was an exclusive membership with rigid rules.

The fact that Alessandra had managed to find her footing among those in the Good Ol’ Boys Club was a feat not lost on me. In another time, I might’ve enjoyed watching Alessandra square off against the old men, pressing for change, but I didn’t have the luxury of such entertainment.

I came for business and a win.

“My father is a stubborn man and he’s set his sights on Castello di Baroni, not that I can blame him now that I’ve made the trip. The property and the working vineyard are exquisite.” Much like Alessandra herself. “You should be proud.”

“Flattery is a waste of your time, too. We are not selling.”

The woman was intractable. I liked it. A flare of excitement started in my gut. It’d been a long time since I’d had a worthy adversary. Boredom had a way of dulling the edge. I’d have to be on my game with Alessandra.

As stunning as she was—green eyes and dark hair always caught my attention—she neither flaunted nor flirted. She simply held her ground with quiet, if not annoyed, confidence.

Definitely a worthy opponent, even if she had no idea that Donatos played to win.

“I’m sure you’re aware my family built this very castle you call home,” I said, drawing on personal history, showing that I’d done my homework before arriving. I’d always known, in a peripheral manner, that my family’s roots were firmly planted in rich Italian soil and that at one time, we’d been premier winemakers before branching off into different fields. Since my father’s retirement, he’d been keen to return to his roots.

Thus, his interest in the winemaking business.

Of course, he wanted Castello di Baroni back in the family fold, seeing as this old castle had given birth to our legacy.

If only our ancestors hadn’t sold sometime in the seventeenth century.

“Yes, I am aware,” Alessandra said, her tone cool. “Many centuries ago. Much has happened between these old walls since your family was a part of its existence.”

“I’m sure you can understand how my family would feel that it rightfully belongs with the Donato name.”

“I do not.”

I smiled. “Although I feel it’s more than the property is worth, we are prepared to double our original offer.” I jotted an exorbitant number on a piece of paper and slid it toward her, chuckling as I said, “My father is very keen to have this property back.”

Alessandra didn’t even look at the offer as she slid the paper back toward me. “And as I already stated, numerous times, it is not for sale, no matter the amount you scribble on your little paper,” she said, her lip curling with subtle scorn. “Americans think that everything has a price—but what you have forgotten is that some things have no price. They are, indeed, priceless.”

I disagreed. “Nothing is priceless. Everything has a price. The question is, how far is one willing to go to find it?”

Her jade eyes darkened as her gaze narrowed. “You are an arrogant man.”

“Confident,” I corrected with a small smile.

She shrugged. “Semantics. Whereas you self-evaluate and come up with confidence, I see arrogance.” Alessandra took a moment to carefully pour a glass of wine from her Riserva vintage. “You see, Mr. Donato, you are not the first businessman to approach Castello di Baroni with an offer to purchase and you won’t be the last. We have survived lean years and we have thrived in fat years, but always we prevail. The quality of our wine is unsurpassed. Our wines have graced the tables of royalty and dignitaries. We are not quick to boast but our success speaks for itself. While others might be flattered by your persistence, I am irritated by your refusal to listen. The answer is an emphatic no.”

I carefully lifted the wineglass to my lips to savor the full-bodied red, rolling it around on my tongue for a brief second before agreeing that the wine was superb. However, I said, “You think highly of your product but perhaps you overestimate its appeal. While Castello di Baroni may have been a favorite of the royals for a time, it is my understanding that Antinori Tignanello has been the most recent royal favorite as of late.”

She laughed. “You imply that we have fallen out of favor? Nonsense. Our labels remain on the aristocratic preferred list. Truly, is that your big play? To prey upon our vanity?” Alessandra tsked as if disappointed. “I had thought that someone of your business acumen would bring more of a challenge. I see I was wrong.” She rose, looking the picture of fire and grace in all of her petite stature. “Please enjoy your glass. Before you leave, perhaps you’d like to visit our gift shop to bring home a lovely bottle for your beloved father as he loves our wine so much.”

Alessandra left me in the great hall of the historic castle to attend to business more pressing than mine. Not by accident, I was given a knuckle-biting view of her near-perfect heart-shaped ass as she exited the room. The woman was sharp and cunning, which was an intriguing and welcome surprise.

Clearly, my father had underestimated Alessandra Baroni when he’d sent me to a castle in the middle of Tuscany to retrieve his latest interest.

I took the time to enjoy the wine while I surveyed the rough-hewn yet solid craftsmanship of the great room, silently appreciating that it’d stood the test of time this long.

The financial burden of the castle’s and vineyard’s upkeep was probably substantial. It didn’t seem as if the Baroni family was struggling to keep the lights on. The keep was well-maintained and there didn’t seem any overt signs of financial distress, which would explain why Alessandra hadn’t blinked an eye at the ridiculous sum of money my father was prepared to offer for this place.

So, if money wasn’t the carrot I needed to dangle in front of her…what bait could I use to entice her to take the offer?

I needed to do more research. I’d broken my own cardinal rule: never come to a negotiation without knowing everything about your opponent.

I’d wrongly assumed that I could persuade Alessandra with a little charm and a lot of money.

I rubbed my chin. A man would have to be blind to miss how stunning she was but I saw no ring on her finger. Even the prettiest face and hottest body was no match for a sharp-tongued woman. My interest in being nagged at for the rest of my life was dimmer than a dying bulb, but most men weren’t as smart as me. My brothers, for example, had already lost the battle when they’d married, ceding defeat with smiles on their faces. That wasn’t going to be my fate. But I did find it interesting that Alessandra remained unspoken for in a country that still observed a definite edge in favor of the men. The battles she must face on an everyday basis… I mused with reluctant fascination.

Which is likely why she shut me down so quickly and without batting an eye. I grinned in spite of my embarrassing fail. Talk about an inglorious smackdown of epic proportions.

No worries. I welcomed the challenge. It’d been a long time since I’d felt useful or needed. My older brother, Luca, had the family business, Donato Inc., well in hand, which left me to trot after him, suffocating in his shadow.

Father had given me this opportunity to bring home something of great personal value to the Donato family and I wouldn’t fail.

Alessandra…get ready to see what tangling with the Donato family will get you.

I chuckled as I exited the great hall.

She was going to wish she’d taken the offer.

CHAPTER TWO

Alessandra

THE NERVE OF AMERICANS.

Dante Donato reeked of arrogance like a smoking jacket smelled of cigar smoke. Of all the offers thrown our way to purchase the winery and its operations, none had been as condescending as Donato’s.

He thought he could walk into my house, smugly throw down a wad of cash and walk away with my family’s legacy as easily as shipping a case of wine.

I smirked at the raw audacity. He had balls, I would give him that.

Handsome as the devil, too. Hair as dark as sin and eyes that sparkled like the ocean after a hard rain, he was built with all the thick swagger of his Italian ancestors but he carried the height of a Viking. Although I stood only to his chest level, he did not intimidate me. I’d faced off with worse than Donato men and I was still here.

It was too bad Dante was such a prick. I think I would have enjoyed him in my bed. It’d been a while since I’d taken a lover and by the looks of him, Dante could satisfy the appetite growling inside me. I sighed with disappointment and a little frustration as I headed for the business office.

In the past I’d invited Como to my bed but I’d stopped when I realized he had difficulties separating feelings from simply satisfying each other’s needs.

And we worked together, so that further complicated matters that I didn’t need right now. So much was riding on our newest Chianti, Uva Persa, that I didn’t have time to entertain distractions of any kind.

Made from tenerone grapes, a lost variety that had only recently been brought back from oblivion, lovingly and carefully cultivated from ancient vineyards, Uva Persa was my baby, my triumph, and I couldn’t allow anything to stand in the way of my success.

I was funneling every dime I personally had into the launch of this wine but it was much more than simply a new venture. I was taking a huge chance, risking not only my personal finances but also my family’s reputation as classic vintners with a name that went back for generations.

Our wines remained under the Chianti Classico label, adhering to the strict criteria that 80 percent of the blend was from Sangiovese grapes—though I was one of the more vocal advocates for expanding the criteria—but sales were static and barely holding steady.

That would all change as soon as I launched Uva Persa.

But innovation came slowly, particularly with the old guard. When I’d first broached the subject of purchasing land to plant the tenerone grapes, my father, Sergio, had shut the idea down quickly.

“It’s a risk we don’t need to take,” he’d said, rubbing chopped garlic on his bread before dipping it in the fragrant olive oil. “There’s no need. The Classico Riserva remains strong. We should stick to what we know, safer that way. Why take risks when we don’t have to?”

“But, Papa, the future is in the lost grapes. Resurrecting the ancient varietals will give us that edge we need in the coming market,” I’d insisted, frustrated by my father’s lack of vision. “Please, one small investment is all I’m asking for. The Castello di Baroni brand can withstand the hit but we need to make the leap now. I have the opportunity to purchase—”

“No.”

“Papa! You are being stubborn and pigheaded! I’m looking toward the future of Castello di Baroni and you’re content to live day to day. That’s not how to sustain a business in this new market. It’s not like it was when you were young. Please trust me in this and let me make the purchase.”

My father dusted his hands on the linen napkin, shaking his head, not willing to budge.

We argued for hours but he’d only dug his heels in harder. I wasn’t going to convince Sergio Baroni to change his mind, and at the time I couldn’t make the purchase without my father’s approval.

If it hadn’t been for my nonno, I might not have taken the chance.

With my grandfather’s help, I’d made that small investment but it’d taken everything I had. If I failed… I not only risked my father’s respect after going against his wishes and making a decision he’d been dead set against, but I could lose my seat as Castello di Baroni’s CEO.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and smoothed the nervous jitter in my stomach.

Dante had touched on a small truth. Baroni wines hadn’t been selected for any recent dinners with heads of state and country, but these things were fluid and at any given moment we could be back in the most prestigious cellars. I tried not to worry that my predictions for our brand had come to fruition, but my fears added to my heightened anxiety. Donato showing up with his frivolous offer was an irritant to my already raw nerves.

I rounded the corner to find Como scowling behind his desk. “Is he gone?” he asked.

I didn’t pretend ignorance. “I left him in the great hall. I have no idea if he has left the premises. I have work to do. I cannot spend all my time sparring with an arrogant American.”

“Is it true his family built these walls?”

I shrugged. “So he says.”

“And why now? Why is he sniffing around right when we are about to launch our biggest accomplishment? Perhaps he is a spy for another winery.”

I laughed at Como’s suspicion. “He is no spy. He is an entitled American who feels he can throw money at any problem or challenge. I disabused him of this notion.”

“I do not trust him. He has shifty eyes.”

I disagreed. Dante’s eyes were magnificent—they smoldered with cool heat. The stormy blue was mesmerizing but I didn’t share my observation with Como. The last thing I needed was Como getting jealous. “How are we on production?” I asked, going straight to business.

“We are on track,” Como said, but he was still grousing about the American. “You don’t take this threat seriously. I sense he is not one to give up easily. You should’ve thrown him from the property to send a stronger message that he is not welcome.”

What Como found most threatening was that where Como was long and lanky in build with a strong hawk nose, Dante was built like a soldier, molded with muscle and brawn. Even that designer suit couldn’t hide that hard form. I smothered a shiver. I was willing to bet that in bed, Dante was an animal. Just the kind of lover I craved. I returned my attention to Como, snapping my fingers with irritation. “Stay on task, Como. Just because we operate out of a castle does not mean we keep medieval ways. We don’t toss the distasteful from the ramparts. We send them on their way with our compliments. Better for business.”

Como nodded, grudgingly admitting I was right. “You do your family proud. You are so smart and wise. And beautiful.” Como’s gaze warmed and I exhaled with a slight shake of my head.

His last comment only cemented my decision to keep things professional between us. Como had been a competent lover but mostly convenient. In spite of ending our sexual relationship more than a year ago, he still held out hope that I would change my mind about wanting more—which I wouldn’t—and he followed me like a puppy.

Bad judgment and sexual frustration make for terrible bedfellows. Como’s endless unrequited-love sorrow was annoying, but out of deference for our long friendship and business relationship, I tolerated his overtures while avoiding any physical contact.

However, my patience was at its end. I turned to face him, my expression stern. “Como, we are no longer lovers,” I reminded him. “We agreed that we were better as friends.”

“No, I never agreed,” he said with a frown. “You made a decision and expected me to simply fall in line. I understood your reasoning, and with the strain of Uva Persa hanging on your shoulders, I realized it was better to go along with your decision. But soon we launch and the stress will no longer weigh you down, freeing you to see that you and I are a perfect team. I am a patient man and you are worth waiting for.”

My stomach knotted, not for the first time, at Como’s self-assuredness of his belief, which was wrong on so many levels. I glared with frustration. “You are not patient. You are stubborn.”

“You will come around,” Como said with a cockiness I found unattractive on him. “No one knows you as I do.”

“You do not know me as well as you think if you believe I enjoy being patronized,” I said coolly, and Como stiffened at the rebuke. “You are a valuable member of my staff and I appreciate your talents on a business level but do not mistake me. If you continue to pursue this dangerous line of thinking it will not only ruin our friendship but our working relationship, as well.”