Chapter 23
Twenty-three
Elise
Ican’t believe I’ve been here in France for seven weeks now.
I’m just past the halfway point—tired, but not quite ready to go home.
Kingston is on my mind when Claire hooks her arm through mine the second I step into the courtyard outside Chateau’s administrative offices.
She’s practically vibrating, the way she does when she’s had too much espresso.
“Elise,” she says, her voice pitched higher than usual, “I want you to meet someone.”
Before I can ask who, she’s tugging me across the gravel toward a tall woman in a cream blazer and dark trousers, her hair swept into a sleek knot that doesn’t dare move in the breeze. The woman doesn’t wait for us to reach her. She turns as we approach, already smiling.
“Elise, this is Sasha Valmont, CEO of Chateau.” Claire’s grin is so wide it could split her face. “And Sasha, this is Elise Anderson, a vintner from Paradise Hill in British Columbia.”
I know the Valmont name. Everyone in wine does. But hearing Claire say it aloud makes my stomach lurch. Sasha Valmont is standing in front of me, eyes cutting straight through me like she already knows where I’ll fall short.
“It’s good to see you again,” Sasha says, extending her hand.
Her voice is smooth, accented faintly with Paris.
Everything about her is effortless—her posture, the way she waits for me to shake her hand instead of pressing forward.
She knows she holds the power in this exchange, and she doesn’t need to prove it.
“I know Paradise Hill. I met Kingston and Greyson years ago when I was traveling to see how other vineyards worked. They were so warm and inviting. I’m glad we’re doing this exchange. ”
I manage to get my fingers to work, though they feel clumsy against her cool, precise grip. “Thank you,” I murmur. “It’s an honor to be here.”
Claire practically bounces beside me, pride radiating from her in waves.
I notice the way her fingers twitch against her skirt, though—the smallest tell that she’s nervous.
Being seen by Sasha matters to her as much as it does to me.
She isn’t just thrilled for me. She’s desperate to prove she belongs here too.
Sasha releases my hand, eyes steady, weighing and measuring. “Claire tells me Monsieur Paradise is retiring and his daughter is taking over Paradise Hill. And you will be taking over for your father as master vintner?”
“Yes.” My voice steadies as I find my footing. “It’s both nerve wracking and exciting.”
Sasha’s brows lift a fraction. “The wine business is mostly run by men. I like that you’ll be women-run. Like us.”
It’s hard to imagine, but I guess that’s true—if we ever get there.
I picture Tarryn in the barrel room, hair pulled back, stubborn determination on her face.
Trace pacing at the head of the long oak table, his voice carrying through the dining room, every decision a performance of leadership and pride.
The Paradise family may argue, may clash, but at the end of the day, it’s Trace and Tarryn who keep the business running.
The rest of us circle around them, orbiting in and out.
The Valmonts are different. They don’t orbit. They each have their own planet, entire empires spun off from the same name. Sasha herself controls Chateau while her brothers and cousins run financial firms, hotels, luxury brands. This isn’t a family business. It’s a dynasty.
I feel small under the weight of it. Intimidated and impressed all at once.
Sasha’s smile widens. “We should talk more. Will you join me for lunch?”
I hesitate, as my first thought is Sebastian. He won’t like this. He doesn’t like anything he doesn’t control. But this is his boss’s boss, Sasha Valmont, asking me to lunch, and saying no would be absurd. My pulse jumps at the thought of talking wine, business, vision—all of it—with her.
“Yes,” I say, before I can overthink it. “Of course.”
“Perfect.” She tilts her head toward the gates. “There’s a bistro not far from here. Claire, come with us.”
Claire beams so brightly it makes me laugh, the tension breaking for just a moment. She falls into step beside Sasha, leaving me to follow.
Excitement buzzes under my skin. Maybe Sebastian will frown later, maybe he’ll ice me out, but for once, I don’t care. This is the kind of chance I came here for.
The bistro Sasha leads us to is like something out of a postcard.
Tall windows fling open to the street, letting sunlight spill across tiled floors.
The clink of crystal glasses and the murmur of French swirl in the air, softened by the smell of fresh bread drifting from the kitchen.
A basket lands on our table almost immediately, warm loaves wrapped in linen, the crust golden and crackling.
I take it all in, trying not to look like a wide-eyed tourist, though the truth is I feel exactly that—out of place in my work boots and ponytail, following a woman who looks like she belongs on the cover of Forbes.
Kingston would know how to sit at a table like this, how to order the right bottle, how to fold into the atmosphere, as if he owned it.
I wish he were here, not to shield me, but to steady me.
Sasha orders for us in rapid French, the words tumbling like music. Claire beams at me across the table, and I can’t help smiling back. She’s in her element, and she’s proud to have brought me along for the ride.
Sasha leans forward once the waiter retreats. “So, Elise,” she says smoothly, “tell me, are you excited about taking over for your father?”
Heat pricks my neck. I hate talking about myself in a way that sounds rehearsed. “Yes,” I say, and then hesitate. “He’s leaving very big shoes to fill. I grew up with the Paradise family, and Tarryn and I are close. We’ve been planning this for a while.”
“We met the International Wine and Spirits Competition when we were all kids,” Sasha says. “They spoke about how beautiful the area is and how it’s perfect for growing wine grapes.” Sasha tilts her head, patient but expectant.
Claire nudges me under the table with her knee, subtle encouragement to keep going.
I nod. “Black Bear Valley does have the perfect climate—hot, dry summers, low rainfall, and cold winters. And the soil is both glacial and volcanic, giving the vines what they need for perfect grapes.”
Claire is watching me closely, her eyes shining. Pride warms me from the inside. Sasha sips her water, and I take a moment to look around at the bistro, enjoying the scenery.
Then I see him. Across the street, Sebastian is standing still, staring at us. My stomach drops. In an instant, he’s in motion, and when he strides through the doors, the air seems to cool a degree. He comes straight to our table.
“Sasha,” he says smoothly, switching into English, “I didn’t expect to find you here. May I join you?”
The question hangs like a blade, but Sasha doesn’t flinch. “We’ll see each other later this week,” she replies. “I want to get to know Elise.”
Sebastian’s jaw works, though his smile doesn’t fade. He glances at Claire, then at me, and the weight of that look lands hard. I feel it in my gut—accusation, disappointment, warning. I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“Of course,” he says finally. “She has been a big help in the fields.” He nods once and leaves, his retreat polite, but not gracious. The sound of the door closing behind him rings loud.
“Yes,” Sasha agrees, even though he’s gone. “That’s what Claire told me.”
My appetite vanishes. I can still feel the press of his gaze, the silent message that I shouldn’t be here, at least not without him. I wanted so badly to talk wine with Sasha, to feel like I belonged in this world, but now, it feels like I’ve stumbled into company politics.
I try my best to shake it off. We continue to chat over a fabulous spinach and cheese quiche, and I pepper her with questions about the stress of being the first female in twelve generations to run Chateau.
By the end of lunch, she’s committed to come to Paradise Hill when she can fit it in her calendar so she can see our operation and spend more time with Tarryn.
They have so much in common, and since there are so few female CEOs in the wine business, they should meet.
When we return to Chateau, the warmth of our lunch feels like a fading dream. Sasha disappears, Claire drifts off toward the marketing department, and I head straight for the barrel room, determined to prove I’m not just coasting on introductions.
Sebastian’s voice meets me like a slap. “You’re late.”
I glance at the clock. I’m not. “I came straight back after lunch.”
His eyes on me are cool and sharp. “Next time, check in before you disappear. This isn’t a sightseeing trip, Elise. We actually work here.” He turns away without waiting for my reply. Half of my coworkers haven’t yet returned.
I bite my lip, humiliation already stinging. Not late. Not wrong. But I’ve crossed him anyway.
The rest of the afternoon is a blur of drudgery. Instead of being included in fermentation checks or blending decisions, he hands me a hose. “Rinse the barrels,” Sebastian says briskly, like he’s passing a toy. “Scrub until they shine.”
The other workers glance at me—one with sympathy, another with barely concealed amusement.
My cheeks burn as I crouch, water spraying cold against my boots, suds foaming across my hands.
The hose spits back at me, soaking my shirt until it clings to my skin.
My hair sticks damply against my neck, and my shoulders burn with each shove of the brush.
Foam seeps into the cracks of my palms, stinging tender skin where the gloves have rubbed them raw.
By the time the sun dips behind the vines, my arms are trembling. I strip off my gloves, hands pink underneath, and drop them into the sink. The humiliation lingers, heavier than the ache in my muscles.
Claire is waiting in the corridor when I get back to the dorm, her smile tentative. “Drink?”
I nod, too tired to pretend otherwise.
I change quickly, and we walk into town, the air cool against my damp hair. She leads us to a small café tucked down a side street, candles flickering already on chipped wooden tables. The first sip of wine eases my chest, but only slightly.
Claire leans forward, elbows on the table. “I saw Sebastian this afternoon. He didn’t look thrilled about lunch.”
I groan, pressing my forehead into my hand. “That was a mistake, wasn’t it?”
“Not exactly.” She hesitates, twirling the stem of her glass.
“It’s…complicated here. Sasha is the boss, yes, but she’s not in the cellar every day.
Sebastian is. He wants control, and when she swoops in and takes an interest, it ruffles him.
” Her lips press tight for a beat. “He doesn’t like anyone stepping into his space.
I’ve had ideas shut down before they even left my mouth. ”
I swirl my glass, watching the candlelight flicker through the wine. “So what happens when they clash?”
Claire exhales. “Sasha wins, of course. But not without bruises. She’ll shift resources, change a supplier, make a decision that reminds everyone this is her Chateau.
And Sebastian…well, he makes sure no one forgets how much the cellar runs because of him.
It’s a tug-of-war, and the rest of us get caught in the middle. ”
“Including you.”
Her mouth twists as she nods. “I have a good relationship with Sasha. She’s disappointed that I want to leave. But Sebastian runs this place when she’s not around.”
I nod as understanding dawns. No wonder he froze me out this afternoon. No wonder he handed me the most menial task in sight. He was reminding me whose team I’m supposed to be on.
Claire’s hand brushes mine. “Don’t let him get under your skin. He’s brilliant, but he hates feeling threatened. Prove you’re here to work, not to undermine him or take his job, and he’ll come around.”
I manage a small smile. “And if he doesn’t?”
She shrugs. “Then remember you have a vineyard waiting for you at home. Not everyone here does.”
I nod. She’s right. There’s so much possibility for me in Paradise. More than I ever realized. I think of Kingston and smile.
We finish our dinner and return to our building. Back in my room, I sink onto my mattress, feeling the weight of the day all over again.
My gaze falls on the small box of chocolates sitting on the nightstand, the ones Kingston sent me.
Only one left, its packaging wrinkled soft from how many times I’ve opened the lid just to see it there.
Now, I unwrap it slowly, the paper crackling in the quiet, and place it on my tongue.
The sweetness melts first, lush and familiar, but underneath is the faintest trace of bitterness.
It reminds me of Kingston’s voice when he said, “Your place is at Paradise.”
The taste lingers, and with it comes everything I’ve been pushing aside.
Suddenly, I’m not in this cold stone room.
I’m back at Black Bear Lake, the sun glowing gold on the water, Trace’s booming voice calling us to point out the buds as they appear each year, Tarryn scribbling in her vineyard journal, Ryker cracking jokes.
And Kingston, always the silent observer.
Paradise may be young compared to Bordeaux, but it’s ours. I can feel it in my bones in a way I’ll never feel anywhere else.
I drag my laptop onto my knees. I should tell Kingston the truth, that I scrubbed barrels until my arms went numb, that Sebastian shut me out, that I feel like I’m wasting my time. But I can manage those things on my own.
So instead, I write about what matters.
My dearest Kingston,
I have to tell you about Sasha Valmont. I had lunch with her today, and she remembers meeting you and Greyson.
She asked me about Paradise Hill, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I spoke of it.
I told her about the lake, how it shimmers like glass in the late afternoon, and how the vines roll down the hillsides, as if they were always meant to be there.
But what made me proudest was speaking about the future and how Tarryn and I will be taking over for our fathers.
I invited Sasha to visit, and I hope she'll come.
When I think of Paradise Hill, I think of you. Of how proud I am to call Paradise Hill my home. Everything I’m learning here I will pour back into what your family has so lovingly created. Only forty-four more days. It will be here before we know it.
Always yours,
Elise
I hit send, and the screen glows in the dim room. I stare at it long after the words vanish. I didn’t tell him how small I feel here. But writing to him has still helped me process. I’m going to carry home what I can from this place and, hopefully, make it ours.
I close the laptop and lean back, the last of the chocolate sweet on my tongue and the weight of forty-four days heavy on my heart.