Chapter 10
FRANKIE
My little sister glances over at me for the millionth time but doesn’t say anything. I know something’s up. She’s been fiddling with the strap on her backpack for the last half hour.
I borrowed Charlie’s car this morning to take Livvie back home so she can visit the Abbott stables and take care of the horses.
After that, she’ll catch the bus for school.
Livvie promised she’d stay under the radar, but I’m still worried about her.
Dad isn’t usually up this early, though, and she won’t need to go into the house—so she should be fine.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself as we make the drive from Nob Hill down to Napa.
When I turn onto our old street, I tell her, “I’ll be back to pick you up tonight around dinnertime. Make sure all your work is done by seven, okay?”
She doesn’t agree.
“Livvie?” I prod.
“Actually, um, I was thinking,” she says haltingly. “Maybe I should just…stay over at the house tonight? I mean, I can sleep in the old stable master’s quarters. Dad never goes in there. He won’t even know.”
“Hell no,” I reply.
She sighs. “But it’s ridiculous for you and Charlie to be driving all the way here every morning and night. That’s like, three plus hours round trip. It must be costing a fortune in gas.”
“No.” I’m resolute. “I’m sorry, and I know it sucks, but please trust me on this.”
“What if something happens to one of the horses?”
“The Alvarezes stop by to check on them every night,” I remind her gently. “I don’t blame you for being worried, but the horses are in good hands. I promise. This is what’s best.”
My sister is quiet for a moment. “Why are we doing this? Is Dad getting…dangerous again?”
And there it is. The insight into our messed-up lives that I wish my baby sister didn’t have.
Charlie and I have tried so hard to protect Livvie, but it’s foolish to think we can keep anything from her.
Even though nobody her age should have to worry about their parent becoming violent or getting involved in shady deals, trying to hide things from her doesn’t make them go away.
Besides, she’s too smart for that. Nothing gets past her.
I grip the wheel tighter and clench my jaw. I might not be able to lie to Livvie, but I don’t want to upset her further, so I just nod and don’t elaborate.
Her warm hand covers mine. “I’ll be ready by seven on the dot. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing that has happened is your fault. We just want to make sure you’re safe. And the horses too.”
We’re at the mailbox now, so I turn off the headlights and drive slowly down the packed dirt of the driveway in the cool blue pre-dawn.
The grass is overgrown, there’s some trash scattered in the ditch along the driveway.
My heart sinks to see these two subtle signs that things are falling apart again.
Livvie unbuckles her seat belt as we pull up to the stables. Giving me a long look, she hoists her backpack on her shoulder and then gets out. I watch her go, waiting for the light to turn on inside before I roll back up the drive.
My middle is clenching with anxiety. I hate leaving her here, but I want her to have some normalcy too.
But something else has been bothering me, so I don’t immediately turn back onto the street again.
Instead, I park near the road and turn the car off.
My anxiety goes into overdrive at the thought of what I’m about to attempt.
I shouldn’t have the urge to vomit over entering my childhood home, but I do.
Making my way toward the house, I walk as quietly as possible over the dewy grass. The sky is beginning to lighten as the sun comes up, so I know I have to be quick and silent. I’d rather not get caught sneaking around the house in broad daylight.
Carefully, I use my old key to unlock the door to the mudroom, wiping my sandals off carefully on the mat. Then I stand there for a good ten seconds, listening hard for any sounds or signs of my father. The air is free of the scent of coffee. All the lights are out. It’s now or never.
I pad down the hall toward my dad’s office, caution in every step, knowing full well that this is a really, really bad idea.
But it’s probably my only chance to get what I need and get out.
Thank the gods, my dad left his office unlocked.
I creep inside and close the door behind me, raking my eyes over the filing cabinet.
My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel it in my chest. But I only need one thing, and I’m pretty sure I know where to find it.
Assuming my father hasn’t made a mess of things since the last time I was here.
Holding my breath, I yank open the third drawer from the top.
There, filed away in the far back, are the documents relating to my marriage.
I pull the entire file out and flip through the paperwork until I find a copy of the marriage contract that Dante and I had to sign.
I slip it out and quietly replace the file, then fold the contract into thirds before tucking it into my waistband.
Sweat beads my hairline as I tiptoe out of the office.
I’ve just closed the door behind me when I hear a creaking in the hall.
I freeze, flattening myself against the wall, but I see nothing in the shadows.
Swallowing hard, I hurry back the way I came, out the side entrance, and run for the car.
I don’t think I breathe again until the mailbox is disappearing in my rearview mirror.
On autopilot now, I drive directly to the Alvarezes’ fruit stand.
It’s a little busy this time of morning.
There’s a line of people waiting to get coffee and breakfast sandwiches for their morning commute, so I let myself in through the back door and fill up a cup of strong black coffee before going back out and sitting at a café table in the early sun.
Delores sees me and gives a little wave before returning to her customers.
Moments later, she rushes over with a guava pastry, giving my shoulder a squeeze before rushing back to the register.
Just that small gesture is enough to imbue me with a sense of calm. I’m safe here.
Taking a few deep breaths, I turn to the contract, sipping coffee and devouring the flaky pastry as I carefully read over the convoluted legalese filling the pages. And then, I see it.
“… transferal to Francesca Carina Abriana Abbott and Dante Bellanti or her legal spouse…”
I have to read the sentence again.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing here in black and white.
The contract doesn’t simply stipulate that the winery belongs to Dante free and clear—its ownership transferal is dependent on me being married.
My father’s signature effectively transferred the Abbott Winery to me and my husband in a 50/50 split.
Something Dante never deigned to tell me.
My hand is shaking as I set down my coffee. What a fool I am. How could I have not read this contract in depth until now? These pieces of paper bind my life.
But wait.
I read the line again, the words sinking in with a clarity they hadn’t before.
Or her legal spouse. Not Dante.
Which means one half of the Abbott Winery actually belongs to…to Rico.
I try to grab my coffee but fail. It topples over, spilling hot liquid over the edge of the table and onto my leg. I barely notice, still in shock as the truth of what I’ve just read crashes through my mind again and again. I own half the winery, and Rico owns the other half.
Dante doesn’t own a goddamn thing.
Leverage. That’s what this is. Dante will have to talk to me now. I’m determined to make my case.
I feel numb as I get up from the table and head back to the car.
I can’t think straight as I drive to Bellanti Vineyards.
I need to figure out exactly what I’m going to say to him, but the words won’t come.
How could he keep this information from me?
This entire time, he acted as if he owned me…
when in reality, his ownership of the Abbott grapes was dependent on me.
Before I can overthink it, I park the car in the gravel drive and head to the Bellanti offices. He’s going to listen to me. He has to. If he wants this winery, he’ll have to deal with me.
I’m trembling with anxiety and excitement and a weird type of hope as I tap in the keycode on the door. The little light flashes red at me. Maybe I typed it in wrong. I try the code again, more carefully this time, and get the same result. What the hell?
I’m about to text Armani to let me in when the door suddenly opens from inside. I’m relieved, until I glance up from my phone to see Jessica’s smirking face.
“You’ve been relieved of your duties here at Bellanti Vineyards,” she says. “I’ll try to remember to send your final paycheck to…do you even have a home address, or…?”
I don’t have time for this shit. I try to push past her, but she moves to block me.
“Get out of my way,” I snarl. “I need to talk to him.”
She looks me up and down and then smirks. “He’s not interested.”
The innuendo in her voice pisses me off even more.
“I think he’ll be very interested in what I have to say, actually. And didn’t he fire you?”
She laughs, but I just take advantage of the moment to push past her and storm inside the building. I make sure to raise my voice loud enough that I know Dante or one of his brothers will hear it. I don’t care if I make a scene.
“I’m here for the financial records for Abbott Winery. Which, according to my marriage contract, I co-own with my husband.”
Jessica appears in front of me again, her arms crossed. “Dante is not your husband.”
I smile. “Oh, I know. Which means, legally, he has zero claim on my family’s winery anymore. Or maybe I should call my lawyer for clarification.”
I yell that last part real loud. There’s a shuffle of footsteps and Dante suddenly appears in the hallway, flanked by Armani and Marco. I wave the marriage contract in the air.
“Read your contract, Dante. You don’t own one goddamned Abbott grape.”
No reaction from him whatsoever. That granite face again. I wish I could smash a wine bottle into it. A thick one.
Everyone is silent as Dante storms over to me, closer and closer until he’s towering over me. I hold my ground, glaring up at him with my shoulders thrown back and my chin high. His jaw grinds side to side before he speaks so low that only I can hear him.
“You still owe me, Francesca. Your family still owes me.”
“We’ll pay,” I tell him. “On our terms.”
He smiles at that.
“You sure will.”