Fanged Love - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,32
parties on your patio using our wine. We never host. Way too busy. You can take a percent of the profits for the hassle, and we’ll probably sell more wine. Already I feel good about this collaboration.”
I snap out of it and focus fully on Neli. Somehow I missed the entire conversation. “I love that idea. You saw our patio the last time you were here. It’s a nice covered space with a view of the vineyards and your castle too. If you’re happy with the arrangement down the line, I could host special events in your barrel room, as well. I think a masquerade would be perfect for the ancient-looking space.”
“You’re full of great ideas,” she says, pulling me along even faster.
The front door opens ahead of us. Mr. Bozhidar moved so quickly I didn’t even hear him approach from behind.
I smile up at him as I pass, and he leans toward me, breathing deep.
Did he just smell me? I shiver as I step out into the warm night air. Neli appears by my side, chattering away, but this time I’m fully conscious of Mr. Bozhidar’s powerful presence behind me. Where are my parents?
I glance over my shoulder. They’re trailing behind, talking quietly to each other. Guess I’ll have to be the one to show off Stellariva.
After a brief tour of our manufacturing facility on the east side of the property, which thankfully my dad took the time to explain, my mom offers our guests tastes of different wines to help narrow down the best option for mixing with theirs.
I watch Mr. Bozhidar closely for telltale signs of disgust, but there aren’t any. I’m not sure he’s even sipping the wine. He draws it to his mouth, tips the glass, and then licks his lips, his glowing black eyes smoldering into mine. I want to know what he thinks of it, if he’s even tasting it, but at the same time all I want is to feel those lips tasting me.
This is crazy. I lift my hair off the back of my neck, suddenly fever hot. I can only pray I’m coming down with something. I can’t even consider getting involved with the man who’s the key to keeping our business afloat. What if things went bad between us? That would really be the end of Stellariva.
The rest of the evening passes by in a strange fog until he says his goodbye to my parents and then takes my hand, murmuring in a deep hypnotic voice, “Until we meet again.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it, and then he turns my hand, palm up, and places something cool and heavy there, gently closing my fingers around it. “A gift for you.”
My breath comes faster, my cheeks flushing. I open my palm to find a darling gold charm bracelet with several tiny charms. I’m floored by the sweet gesture. “Thank you, Mr. Bozhidar,” I whisper.
His voice is silky. “Please, call me Boz.”
He leaves, and I’m suddenly deflated, as if he took all the energy out of the room with him. Still, there’s a lingering tingle in my stomach, like some strange afterglow. Whatever happened tonight, I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced anything like it. Don’t be silly, I tell myself. You can’t risk getting involved with this guy.
A moment later, my parents and I are standing in the foyer alone. I slip the bracelet on, admiring it.
“What’s that?” Mom asks.
I return to myself with a start. “It’s from Mr. Bozhidar. A gift.”
“He must really want to work with us,” she chirps. “A promising beginning.”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at Stella with a hungry look in his eyes,” Dad says, scowling. “And he gave her jewelry!”
“Oh, you,” Mom says. “It’s not like it’s a ring. Overprotective dad, step down. So maybe he admired Stella. Any man would. Our daughter is beautiful.” She strokes my hair back over my shoulder, smiling.
“Something is off with that guy,” Dad grumbles. “Sadie went crazy. I haven’t heard her howl like that in a long time.”
I stiffen, suddenly feeling defensive. “He might be a little eccentric, but that’s only worked in his favor. We can’t turn our backs on this opportunity. This could be the answer to all of our problems. We might even win an award with a mixed varietal under our label. That could open doors everywhere.”
“She’s right,” Mom says.
My dad crosses his arms and glares at the door our guests just exited. “I still