Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
FIONA
The hum of dryers and the faint chemical scent of hair dye wrap around me. My stylist, Marlene, waves me over to her station with that same warm smile she’s worn since I first sat in her chair.
Dropping into the seat, I set my purse on my lap, the latest anonymous note still clutched in my hand. I meant to tuck it away before coming inside, but my mind’s been running in circles, turning over the same questions, unable to shake the thought that there could be someone else watching me.
Marlene glances down at my hand, tilting her head, her bright red hair flipping over her shoulder. “What’s that?”
I slide the note into my purse, and shrug. “Just a note from someone.”
A dark brow lifts with a playful glint in her eyes. “Ooh. Secret admirer?”
A short laugh slips out before I can help it. “More like a psychopath.”
She chuckles like it’s a joke, twisting a lock of my hair between her fingers. “They’re all psychopaths, honey.”
She’s not wrong about that.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “How are your parents doing?”
The question sinks my mood even more.
“Still the same.”
She shakes her head. “My God. They’re such good people. I hate that this is happening to them.” Picking up a large comb, she runs it through my strands. “You think they’re going to sell the place?”
As I shake my head, my emotions overwhelm me. “I really hope not. It would break their hearts. They’ve built that vineyard from nothing. That place is them. I just…” My throat tightens. “I wish I could do something to help. But I don’t have that kind of money.”
If they don’t pay the mortgage soon, it’s over.
She pins half of my hair up, working with efficient hands as she sprays a bit of water over the other sections, then grabs a pair of scissors. “Are they trying to find some investors? Maybe someone with fresh ideas would be good.”
“Yeah, they’re actively looking now.” I glance at my reflection, forcing a smile.
“That’s good. I’m sure it will work out. Tell your mom I said hi, will ya? Haven’t seen her stop by in a while.”
“She’s cutting back on expenses.”
Marlene nods, sympathy swelling in her irises.
The rest of the appointment passes in easy small talk, but the note in my purse is like a ticking clock against my thigh.
By the time I reach the vineyard, the late afternoon sun spills gold across the rows of vines.
Normally, this view feels like home: rolling hills, neat trellises, the earthy sweetness drifting on the breeze.
But this year, the leaves curl at the edges, clusters of grapes hanging smaller, sparser. Even the land looks exhausted.
Inside the main building, Mom greets me with her usual warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. But up close, I catch the fine lines of worry etched around her eyes. Dad’s right behind her, pulling me into a bear hug, his hair somehow grayer than it was a few months ago.
“How you doing, kid?”
“I’m good, Papa. How are you guys? Need any help around here?”
“Nah, we’re okay.” He grins, but it’s the kind of smile meant to distract me from the hell they’re going through.
I can feel the burden behind it. He’s beyond stressed. They both are.
“You look pale.” Mom’s hands cup my cheeks, like she’s checking me for a fever. “Are you eating? Sleeping? Going on any dates?”
“Oh, no. Here we go.” A groan slips out as I duck past her toward the sofa in their office. “Ma, please, not today.”
She trails after me, completely undeterred. “Not today? What does that even mean?” Her eyes widen in outrage. “You’re twenty-eight. If you ever want to get married and have children, the time is now. You may not have a deadline, but your ovaries do.”
Oh God, please give me a bullet. Where is Aleksei Marinov when you need him?
“I’m sure there’s been a handsome defense attorney or two lately,” she presses.
The look I shoot her is both wild and exaggerated. “Are you kidding? I’d never date anyone from the other side, let alone marry him.”
She scoffs. “Defense attorneys make money, sweetheart.”
“Life isn’t all about money.”
“Oh, really?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Tell that to our vineyard. Right, Tony?”
Dad’s chuckle drifts from the coffee pot in the far right corner. “Do I look like an idiot? I’m not getting involved. I’m Switzerland.”
“Coward,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You want your daughter to be alone when we’re dead? Because that’s where she’s heading.”
“Oh, come on. She’s still young. She’s got time.”
“See?” I gesture toward Dad like he’s my star witness. “I’ve got time.”
“Per l’amor di Dio, finirai zitella e con dieci gatti.” For the love of God, you’ll end up a spinster with ten cats.
Oh, no. When Mom starts talking in Italian, we know we’re screwed.
“Don’t worry, Ma. The right man will come.” Or not. “I’m just currently surrounded by psychos.”
Her gaze sharpens. “How psycho are we talking?”
My jaw drops. “Wow. Nice one, Ma. Whose side are you on?”
She smirks. “What? Sometimes the crazy ones are better in bed.”
“Angelica! Come on.” Dad groans. “My poor ears.”
“What?” She tosses her hands in the air, completely unfazed. “We’re all adults here.”
Dad scratches his head, shaking it with exasperation. But he loves my mother more than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a love stronger than what they have.
“Alright, enough,” I cut in. “No more talk about my love life. Or anything else that’ll haunt me forever.”
Mom scoffs. “Fine, I’ll stop. For now. But I’m serious about the defense attorneys.”
“You’ve made that quite clear.” My eyes flick to the desk. “Now, how about we talk about what really matters? Have you found any investors yet?”
The stack of unopened mail in the corner draws my attention: thick envelopes, some stamped with red lettering that screams overdue.
A glance passes between them, and my stomach coils.
“What was that? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.” Mom clears her throat, a dead giveaway she’s lying. “We have a few interested parties. We’re just…weighing the pros and cons, that’s all.”
My eyes narrow. “And will they let you keep the majority of the shares?”
She peers at the floor. “We hope so.”
I know if they want to keep the doors open, they won’t have much choice. But I’ll be damned if I allow them to be taken advantage of.
Dad shrugs like it’s nothing. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart. We always do.”
The words are meant to be reassuring, but they hit like a stone in my chest.
We talk for a while, pretending everything’s fine. Mom fussing over whether I’m eating enough again. Dad telling some ridiculous story about a raccoon that broke into the fermentation room last week. For a few minutes, it’s almost normal. Almost.
But when Mom’s gaze drifts to the window, the shadow returns to her face.
“I wish I could do something to help,” I tell them, but my job definitely doesn’t come with a huge paycheck.
Dad reaches for my hand, squeezing gently. “You help just by being here.”
Mom’s smile softens, but there’s mischief in her eyes. “Or maybe by finding a handsome man with deep pockets. A defense attorney would do nicely. He can buy the place, and you can run it together.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not in a million years.”
“Never say never,” she teases, rising from her chair.
“You’re lucky I love you, Ma.”
She wraps her arms around me, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “And I you, tesoro. Everything I do is for you.”
“I know.”
My parents have no one but me. Mom always said her family never approved of her marrying Dad, mostly because his father wasn’t Italian.
That’s where our last name comes from. They disowned her after that, and Dad didn’t have much family to begin with.
His parents died when he was young, and he was an only child.
If there was a way to fix their financial problems, I’d do it in an instant, even if it cost me everything.