“Good plan,” she murmured.

Joe picked up his duffel. Brenna glanced toward the tables and wondered if she should say something to Nic about joining him in a few minutes. Then Joe started toward the house and she hurried after him.

Temporary staff filled the kitchen. Brenna collected a plate of food, a bottle of wine, and two glasses, then led the way into the dining room.

“Take a load off,” she said, jerking her head toward the large table.

Joe set the duffel on the floor, then pulled out a chair. He took the plate she offered, along with flatware.

“Is that wine all for me?” he asked.

She laughed. “Don’t sweat it. I’m not trying to get you drunk. I thought it would take the edge off. Besides, Marcelli Wines is your heritage. Think of this as the beginning of your education. Your inheritance won’t come for free.”

He ignored her statement and glanced toward the kitchen. “You have any beer?”

“Peasant,” she muttered as she expertly opened the bottle of Cabernet. After pouring them each a glass, she took the seat opposite his and sank onto the chair.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He sliced off a piece of chicken. “Sure.”

“You look a little shell-shocked.”

His dark gaze narrowed. “The hell I do.”

She laughed. “Sensitive, aren’t we? Does this have something to do with your rough-and-tumble reputation? Do you really know fifty-seven ways to kill me?”

He chewed without speaking. Brenna sipped her wine and studied his face. His coloring was more Italian than Irish, but his features were a blend of the two.

“Second thoughts about coming here?” she asked.

“I’m way past that.” He picked up his wineglass and frowned at the contents.

“You’re supposed to admire the color,” she told him. “Appreciate the blends of reds and purples. Next, smell the bouquet.” She demonstrated. “Black cherry, chocolate, a little plum.”

He sniffed. “It smells like wine.”

She winced. “Right. Next, a sip. Let the liquid roll around on your tongue as you experience all the—”

Joe chugged about a third of the wine, swallowed, shrugged, and set the glass on the table. “Not bad.”

“That wine received a ninety-two from Wine Spectator,” she said faintly. “It was so highly allocated we had people offering nearly double the retail price per case. I won a gold medal for that wine.”

“It’s fine.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Gee, thanks.”

How on earth could her grandfather consider leaving everything to a man who said their prize wine was fine? It was so wrong, it was almost funny. She would start laughing just as soon as the pain faded a little.

The door to the kitchen opened and Mia entered. “Hi, Joe,” she said as she sashayed toward them.

He eyed her cautiously.

Mia rested one hip on the table and leaned toward him. “So, you’re quite the hunk. Are there more like you at home?”

Joe made a show of glancing at his watch. “Aren’t you up a little late.”

Mia grinned. “I’m eighteen, Big Brother. All grown up.”

Brenna waved her hand toward the door. “Torture Joe tomorrow. He’s already nervous enough to bolt.”

His intense gaze swung toward her. “What did you say?”

“That you’re a little uneasy. It’s perfectly understandable.”

Mia pouted. “But I want to ask about his friends.”

“Later.”

Her baby sister ignored the hint. “So if you don’t want to talk about yourself, what about us? Are we family yet?”

He shrugged. “Sorry, no.”

“Brenna says Grandpa Lorenzo is going to want to leave you everything. That has to be exciting.”

Joe’s expression turned unreadable. “Maybe.”

Mia shook her head. “Don’t worry about offending me. I was never going to run the place. I’m sure there will be cash settlements on the girls, which makes me happy. But still, it’s a big deal.”

“A forty million dollar big deal,” Brenna murmured, feeling sick to her stomach.

Joe frowned. “The old man doesn’t even know me.”

“Not a problem,” Brenna told him. “Traditional Italian grandfathers love to leave the family business to their grandsons. That would be you.”

“Will you accept?” Mia asked eagerly. “I would. I mean you can sell it or leave Brenna in charge.”

“Thanks for the endorsement,” Brenna said.

She wanted to run from the room, but it was like watching a car accident. She couldn’t seem to tear herself away, even though the truth was going to cut her to her bones.

“I wouldn’t say no,” Joe admitted. “But it’s not an issue yet.”

Brenna swallowed hard. “It will be. Try to act surprised. It will make my grandfather happy.”

Mia pushed off the table. “Okay, I’ll go now. But I’ll be hanging around tomorrow. We can get to know each other and you can tell me all about your hunky friends.”

“I can’t wait,” Joe muttered and returned his attention to his dinner.

Brenna was grateful for the few minutes of silence. She had to collect herself, to figure out how to act normal. This wasn’t news. She’d known that Joe showing up was a possibility, and if he did…

Maybe Grandpa Lorenzo wouldn’t offer him everything, she told herself, even as she didn’t believe the words. Maybe…

She sighed. Maybe she should just get used to the fact that the odds of her ever running Marcelli Wines was about zero. She had a plan, a chance for success with her own thing. That was good. Better than good. It was great.

Five minutes later Joe finished dinner. Brenna led him upstairs to the guest room at the end of the hall.

“You have your own bathroom,” she said as she pushed open the bedroom door. “Sleep as late as you would like.” She grinned. “Unless you want to rejoin the party.”

“No, thanks.”

He tossed his duffel onto the floor, then crossed to the window. It faced the backyard. From there he could see the people milling around.

“Sorry I came?” he asked without looking at her.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“My being here could change a lot of things.”

“He’s your grandfather, too. Even though you’ve just found out about us, you’re still family.” She searched her heart. “I can’t regret that you exist.”

He smiled at her. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She moved to the window and stood next to him. “I know this is all a little overwhelming, but you’ll get used to us with time.”

“I’d settle for keeping the names straight.”

He was big and tall and despite her teasing, he probably did know fifty-seven ways to kill her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t currently out of his element.

“Did you ever think about what your real family was like?” she asked.

“Sometimes.” He closed the blinds. “I never pictured anything like this.”

“I wouldn’t think so. Who could possibly dream up the Marcellis?” She touched his arm. “I need to get back to the party. Want me to check on you later?”

He scowled. “No.”

She chuckled. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked to the door. “You will still be here, won’t you?”

“What do you think?”

“That you didn’t get to be who and what you are by quitting.”

“Good call.”

She opened the door and stepped into the hall. “Despite everything, I’m glad you decided to pay us a visit, Joe. Good night.”

• • •

The party buzz about the stranger reached Nic about the same time he figured out why the guy looked familiar and who he was. The Marcelli family’s long-lost son.

Marco finally returned to the microphone. He looked shell-shocked, but happy.

“We’ve had something of a surprise,” he told the crowd. “After many long years our firstborn son has returned to us.” He waited for the swell of conversation to die down. “Joe is going to be staying with us for a few days, so most of you will get the chance to meet him. In the meantime, I would like to return to the reason for our celebration and toast the engagement of my daughters Katie and Francesca.”

Nic raised his glass. Brenna had gone into the house with her brother and had yet to return. Not sure why it mattered, or why he gave a damn, he kept an eye on the back door. The emotional surge he’d experienced when she’d hurried off to greet a strange man had faded, leaving behind a certain level of confusion. Why did he care if Brenna was interested in some other guy? He and Brenna weren’t together. He had no claim on her. No way he’d been jealous.

The rational part of his brain assured him there was a logical explanation. The penis-run part grunted something about wanting sex again. He did his best to remember his plan and why it was important. Nothing personal, he reminded himself. Just business.

And his business plan might have just taken a dump…at least for the moment. The existence of a male heir could change things. Lorenzo Marcelli was nothing if not traditional, and traditional Italian patriarchs left the family business to the firstborn son. Did that mean Marcelli wasn’t going to be for sale? Or did it mean he only had to wait?

Joe Larson was unlikely to enjoy running a winery for very long. Nic was pretty sure he could convince the man to take the money and run.

Nic started for the house, only to stop when Lorenzo stepped in front of him. The old man glared at Nic.

“No Giovanni is welcome here.”

Nic shoved his hands into his pockets. “There’s a surprise.” He shook his head. “Don’t you ever get tired of the past? It’s done. No one cares about what happened over sixty years ago.”

“I care.” Lorenzo’s eyebrows drew together. “I know the truth.”

“The truth is Antonio Marcelli screwed up. Something happened to his vines, and rather than admit that, he blamed my grandfather. Antonio was jealous of his friend’s success. It’s an old story.”

Lorenzo stared at him for a long time. “You think you know so much,” he said at last. “That the new ways are always better. Things happened for a reason. You claim that your family is the injured party, accused of a crime they didn’t commit. Are you sure? You weren’t there. What do you know of the truth?”

Mia sidled up to Lorenzo and beamed at the old man. “Are you torturing our guest?”

“We’re talking about the old days.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Grandpa, it’s a party. You need to have a little fun. Why don’t you take Grandma Tessa for a spin around the dance floor and show her a good time?”

“Not yet. This one…” He moved closer to Nic.

“Trying to take me on, old man?” Nic asked. “I’m not going to fight you.”

“Maybe not, but you’ll do something.” Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want with my granddaughter?”

Mia winced. “Grandpa, you really don’t want to ask that question. I mean what if Nic answers it?”

The old man took a step back. “This is not the time, not with guests here. But soon. You and I, we are not finished.”

Nic liked the idea of a challenge. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

Lorenzo muttered something in Italian, then stalked away. Mia watched him go.

“Want me to tell you what he said?” she asked.

“No.”

“Just as well. It wasn’t very polite.” She linked arms with Nic. “This has been the best party. I didn’t expect it to be so exciting. Joe arriving, you fighting with my grandfather. So what did you think of our brand-new big brother? Isn’t he a hunk? Cute, but very annoying. He practically accused me of being a baby. I mean, come on. Do you really think it’s so awful that I want to meet some of his manly Navy SEAL friends?”