Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Sebastian
B eing pulled out of my comfort zone and onto the subject of my late wife was not what I had planned during my stay here, yet here I was, jolted by the memory of her pregnancy to accompany the nightmare I’d woken from this morning.
I worked hard to keep thoughts of Melissa at bay, and thinking about our daughter, Charlotte, only compounded my sadness. I had the urge to hold my little girl tightly, and I needed to shake those emotions off if I wanted to be effective here. I was content with the knowledge that Charlotte was being well taken care of by her nanny, and since she was so young, she probably didn’t even know I was gone.
If I were honest, I’d always had difficulty bonding with Charlotte. Melissa was the doting mother, and I was the father who worked hard and late. After the accident, I hadn’t exactly been hands-on either, and she was so young that I didn’t know what to do or how to be with her. It’s not that I didn’t love or appreciate my daughter; it’s just that I’d been busy running the family business until my wife died, and then I thoroughly checked out after her burial.
Thinking about Charlotte and Melissa was the last thing I needed right now. I had to get these emotions shoved out of my mind immediately because I couldn’t risk falling apart in this hell hole.
I entered the winery’s tasting hall, instantly irritated by the reminder of how badly this place needed an overhaul, too.
“Good morning, Mr. Aster,” an attractive young woman greeted me from behind a podium.
The podium needs to be thrown out, I thought, eying the ridiculous thing in the middle of the room.
“Good morning,” I answered, assessing her unfortunate attire. “Could you please tell me where the sommelier is?”
“Yes, the host?” She looked confused.
“Sommelier, yes.”
“That would be me, sir,” she smiled, her cleavage more pronounced than her beaming expression. “I’m also the wine educator?—”
“I’m not quite sure wine educator is an appropriate title, given your uncertainty about what a sommelier is.”
I was being a dick, and I knew it, but I didn’t give a shit. The fact that she didn’t know if she was a sommelier or a host was inexcusable and proved to me she had no business in a winery that my family was associated with. Sommelier was a title of distinction, not to be confused with any other job description. This place was an embarrassment, and to have a woman dressed as if she were on her way out to a nightclub was beyond me.
“Forgive me, I knew—I mean, I know. I’m just a little nervous,” she exhaled shakily, her eyes darting around for someone else to take the heat off her but failing to find anyone.
“Understandable,” I answered flatly. “What is your name?”
“Stephanie Parsons,” she answered with a smile.
“Very well, Ms. Parsons?—”
“ Miss Parsons,” she answered flirtatiously, which only pissed me off more. “I’m not married. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”
“Is that so?” I questioned.
“Mm-hmm,” she answered with some strange look of accomplishment while sweeping her auburn curls over her shoulder.
Jesus, is she even wearing a bra?
“So, am I to assume your eligible status is why you’re so inappropriately dressed?”
Her cheeks turned bright red, and I didn’t care. The way she was approaching me, her outfit, and the fact that she seemed to know nothing more than where the espresso machine would be located, pissed me off.
“I find that offensive,” she nearly shouted.
“I apologize; however, you are part of the face of this winery as the sommelier. You might even be the most important person here, and yet you look as though you are dressed to go clubbing. This place should ooze with sophistication, and a sommelier who dresses like this and hits on the owner when she first meets him is anything but sophisticated.”
“They all said you would be an asshole,” she snarled, her brown eyes wicked with sudden hatred for me. “I didn’t believe them, but I was wrong. I’ve never met a man I instantly disliked more than you.”
Get in line , I thought, knowing that Darcy would be here in no time to give me hell for this and make me believe that I was out of line.
“Why don’t we spare ourselves any further conversation about your dislike of me? I will accept your resignation.”
She smiled as if I offered her a challenge, “Oh, I’m not resigning. I love my job here.”
“Then you’ll be given termination papers.”
“On what grounds?” she snapped.
“On the grounds that your appearance is an insult to this winery, and your immature behavior is unacceptable. You will be replaced with someone who respects their position and employers.”
She covered her heart, and her eyes pooled with tears. “Please, don’t do this. I love this job,” she pleaded.
I sighed in irritation. “I must ask you to pull yourself together, Miss Parsons,” I offered.
“When they said?—”
“Forgive me for interrupting your recitation of what others have said about me. I truly do not care or wish to hear it. You have until noon to turn in your resignation, or you will be handed termination papers.”
“Mr. Aster?” Mr. Burke said from behind where I stood, watching this woman melt into a puddle of tears. “May I ask what is going on?” He looked at Miss Parsons and then rushed to hug her.
She sobbed into his embrace as I sighed in irritation and looked away. All I knew was that the wine from this fucking place had better taste phenomenal, or I was going to lose my goddamn mind. The lack of professionalism in this place was killing me, and if this woman thought she could cry on Burke’s shoulder and keep her job, she had another thing coming.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” I said in a low voice of frustration, “but I need a word with you, Mr. Burke.”
He stepped back from the upset woman and looked at me. “Give me a moment,” he looked at Miss Parsons. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. What is upsetting you, dear?”
Miss Parsons shot glossy-eyed daggers my way before looking back at Mr. Burke. “It seems I’m not fit to work here anymore,” she sniffed.
Mr. Burke looked back at me, and for the first time since meeting the man, I saw an angry expression cross his features.
“Why is she not fit to work here?” he asked.
“She is dressed offensively, especially to the clientele we will be drawing in with the new business model, and she has expressed her dislike for me. I do not wish to have employees with anything less than the utmost professionalism?—”
“Hold up, Mr. Aster,” he said, holding both hands up as if declaring his innocence. “Before you start firing everyone before you know them, perhaps I can introduce you to them, and you will understand why?—”
My jaw clamped together so tightly that I nearly broke a molar. “Perhaps you will join me in a more private setting before defending your employees.” I looked at the woman glaring at me, “If you’ll excuse us.”
I dismissed myself and the man wearing the ridiculous Hawaiian-style floral shirt.
“Where is your office?” I questioned.
“Right this way,” he answered, shuffling ahead of me in his flip-flops and Bermuda shorts.
We walked into a room with a metal desk, a chair, and a fan to cool the place. It was something straight out of the 1980s. Thank God the reception room was halfway decent—probably the only reason the Mitchells tasted the wines from this place and wanted to purchase it—but it was clear that everything else would need an enormous overhaul.
“You will tell me what this is all about, Mr. Aster,” Billy said.
I admired the man for finally digging in and behaving with more grit and self-respect.
“If you wish for that disgruntled employee to stay, she will undergo extensive training, which I plan to implement for all new hires. This current behavior will not stand.”
“Disgruntled?” he questioned me. “She’s the sweetest young lady.”
Well, if we’re comparing her to your daughter, who is overly opinionated and obnoxious, then you’re right, I thought, rolling my eyes at how Darcy nearly went to war over everything I said.
“Sweet or not has nothing to do with it. She was unhappy with my assessment of how she is dressed, and instead of listening and understanding, she chose to argue with me.”
Well, maybe she was like his daughter after all. What was with the women here, anyway?
“Perhaps that’s because you insulted her,” Mr. Burke answered, still irritated.
“She insults this winery by wearing such clothes. She is a professional, yet you can nearly see through her top, and?—”
“Oh, it’s just kids. You know how they?—”
“No,” I snapped, “I will not listen to excuses. Listen, Mr. Burke, if you want this place to flourish and grow, you need to step out of my way as I lead from here on out. I understand you sympathize with the young woman; however, I have a strict policy to avoid any personal relations in my business. It only leads to poor decisions and is very detrimental to the business.”
“Very well,” Mr. Burke answered. “However, I take the blame for how she is dressed. Don’t sack her over my lapse in judgment about having a strict dress code. I didn’t think it would make or break this place.”
“This place is very broken, sir,” I said without care, “and I am here to fix every crack. However, because you are adamant, I will make an exception for her this one time. I will not demand her resignation or terminate her employment, but she is to leave the premises immediately and return tomorrow, wearing the appropriate attire for her job.”
“And how would she know what to wear?”
“You are joking, aren’t you?”
“No,” he said, “I’m not.”
“Have you ever toured a winery aside from your own?”
“Not in years,” he answered earnestly.
“Perhaps you and your employees can visit a few wineries this week and do your homework while I stay and run some numbers. Hopefully, when I meet with the rest of the employees after that, they will be dressed appropriately to host tastings here.”
“We’ve never had a problem with our tastings before?”
“How many appointments for tastings do you have today?”
“We’re free today, so I’m fine with shutting down the tasting room, and I’ll go check the schedule for the rest of the week.”
“That’s the problem, Mr. Burke,” I answered him. “Your tastings should be completely booked for the next four months. You should be extremely concerned that you have zero tastings today, and I’m extremely concerned that you have no idea what the rest of the week looks like for your tastings. This is a winery, not a playground at a fast-food joint. I do hope you’ll take note of what you see with the other wineries you will visit this week. In fact, I expect you and Miss Parsons will return with some brilliant improvement ideas for this place when we all meet again on Friday.”
“I look forward to it,” he answered. “Call me if you run into any trouble going through the numbers.”
“I will need all of the logins and passwords before you leave, as I have no desire to call and interrupt your day out with your employees,” I offered.
“Oh, those are all on sticky notes on my computer screen,” he answered, all smiles as he breezed out of the room.
It was nice to know he had an inkling of a backbone, even if it didn’t last long. The man went from pissed off—which I liked—back to Bahama Breezes within five minutes. Oh, well. I was sure to light his ass right back up again after I got done viewing the financials. I was dreading these numbers more than anything. Everything here needed a total overhaul. Honestly, I was relieved to shut this place down for the week and send everyone out of here so that I could focus on the bullshit at hand.
This wouldn’t be easy or even remotely thrilling, but it would consume my mind, and after the morning I’d had thinking about Melissa, I welcomed the distraction wholeheartedly. I was looking forward to finding all the bleeds in the financial areas of this company so long as it kept my mind on numbers and off my emotions.
I’d spent longer than I realized at the metal desk, sitting on the uncomfortable metal chair and staring at unbelievable numbers. I was shocked as hell they were managing even to keep the damn lights on here.
No wonder there were no improvements to be seen at this estate. William Burke was too busy donating fifty percent of his wines to charity with no return , which might’ve been a great tax write-off if there was any income to tax on this place. The rest of the money was walking out the door because of the lack of professionalism and sales tactics.
When I got to the pit of the company and saw there were only a few chains of grocery stores that Mr. Burke had negotiated with to stock Burke Wines, I realized this place needed a massive overhaul and relaunch if my father and James Mitchell wanted to see a penny of profits come out of it.
When I was done here, I would surely be the villain in everyone’s story. I would need to arrange a meeting with my father and James Mitchell to bring in a marketing team on board because, from what I’d seen so far, no one here would cut it.
I left the wine-tasting room well after dinner, and thank God because I was in no mood to see or speak to anyone. I wasn’t hungry, but I was in dire need of my favorite tequila, and doing that on an empty stomach wasn’t ideal, even though getting drunk didn’t sound half bad.
I walked into the kitchen where the booze was and saw the chef, Antonio, cleaning up after dinner.
“Se?or Aster, I did not see you at dinner. I cooked albondigas soup, if you would like some. There are also homemade tortillas, and Ines made empanadas?—”
“Thank you, Antonio, but I think I will just have a drink by the pool. Perhaps a sandwich later,” I said nicely, truly appreciating his professionalism. “It’s a bit late to eat anything too heavy.”
Soup is too heavy, huh? Why don’t you try to sound like more of an old lady, Seb? I smiled, trying to move past my stupid comment.
Antonio nodded and returned my smile. “Understandable. I’ll pour your tequila the way you like it.”
“I appreciate that. You are an excellent chef, by the way,” I said while he grabbed a glass to pour my drink. “I didn’t get the opportunity to give you my compliments last night.”
“Gracias,” he said, more excited than when I entered. “They’re family recipes that date back to the ancestors,” he softly laughed.
I took the glass he offered. “Well, your ancestors knew what they were doing,” I finished with a grin, then spun on my heel and made a beeline for the pool.
I glanced at my watch and saw that it was ten thirty in the evening and most likely too late for this family to intrude upon me in my dire need of solitude. The last thing my nerves could handle was William Burke giving me a rundown on what he learned at another winery today.
After I’d found a lounge chair to sit in, the pool’s soft lighting illuminating the area with a soft ambient glow, I reclined and crossed one leg over the other, glancing up at a million stars in the dark sky and sipping on my drink as if it were medicine.
As I took my first sip, the liquid comfortably warming my throat as it slid down, I heard a splash, prompting me to sit up and nearly spill my damn drink all over myself.
“Oh, God,” I heard Darcy say, running her hands over her wet hair, smoothing it back.
“We must be connected,” I answered, “because I was about to say the same thing. Tell me, which of the gods do you think will help you?”
“If I need help with you,” she said, swimming to the side of the pool as if I was in the mood to have a poolside conversation with her, “I’m pretty sure Hades would be the one.”
“Hades?” I questioned with confusion.
“Yeah, you know the Greek god of hell?”
I narrowed my eyes at her, casually sat back, and continued to sip my drink, “And what makes you believe that I would know the Greek god of hell? Why not Zeus?”
I saw her eyes roll as she crossed her arms and leaned up on the ledge, “For starters, Zeus is a good guy. Hades is pretty much the devil, and from the way you’ve torn through this place since you arrived, I would think you and he were best friends.”
“You think Zeus is a good guy, huh? You might want to talk to Prometheus about that,” I said, laying my head back and looking up at the star-filled sky. “Unfortunately, Greek Mythology and the devil are both things I don’t have?—”
“Enough about the gods, okay? You seriously sent the entire winery staff on a field trip to other wineries so they could learn how to act?” she interrupted me with a disgusted tone.
“Field trip?” I said with the same argumentative tone.
“Yeah, you ran all of them out of there like toddlers. Why?”
“Because it was apparent none of them had ever been to a winery—this one included. I can’t even call this a legitimate winery.”
“Oh?”
If I wasn’t so irritated by her questioning me, I might’ve thought her challenging expression was charming.
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, when I met Miss Parsons?—”
“I heard you fired Steph after she dared to speak two words to you,” she said, cutting me off again.
“I allowed her more than two words. In fact, the more she spoke, the more concerned I grew that she was the hostess for this place. And I won’t even bring up the unprofessional way she was dressed.”
I saw Darcy bite her lip to prevent a smile before she looked away from me. I wasn’t sure, but I got the notion that perhaps Miss Parsons bothered Darcy as much as me.
“It still doesn’t matter,” Darcy quickly returned. “What matters is that we can’t afford to shut this place down for a week while you send all the staff to other wineries.”
“We can’t afford to keep this place open with how it runs now. I’m contacting some highly experienced people in the industry, and whichever employees wish to continue working here will be trained by them once everything is in order. The days of running this place like a Bahamian tiki hut beach bar are over.”
“I can very easily see that,” she said. Then she pulled away from the side of the pool and sank back into the water. “Perhaps you should at least have more regard for the people who work for us; whether you like how they dress or not, most of them are good people.”
“Most?” I questioned that word. “There are more like Miss Parsons?”
“Goodnight, Mr. Aster,” she said, turning away, swimming to the ladder on the other side of the pool, and pulling herself out of the water.
I narrowed my eyes at the sight of her perfectly round ass in her swimsuit, and believe it or not, for the first time in what seemed to be a year, my dick perked back to life. I took a large gulp of my tequila and looked to my right, removing all images and thoughts of her from my mind. The very last thing I would do was involve myself with Darcy Burke.
The woman and I seemed to hate each other, but I had to admit she was as rude and outspoken as she was sexy. She was also as much of a problem for me as everything else I’d encountered since I arrived here, and everyone who knew me well knew that nothing could break my strong will. That willpower had kept me out of a lot of trouble in my younger years and would continue to do so now.