Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“What a stunning label,” she says as she gently caresses the image of a golden falcon perched on an oak tree. “Is this real gold?” She holds the bottle back out to me.
“It is. It’s called gilding. A little opulent, but we only use it on the rosé bottles.” Deftly, I open the chilled wine as I speak. “For the red wines, we use shades of orange and red and yellow. For the whites, we stick to muted blues and gold.” I hand Michelle the glass of wine.
“We’ll have a bottle of the red with dinner because it’ll compliment the steak.” Gabriel sits down next to Michelle, keeping a little distance but close enough to touch her if the urge were to strike.
“That sounds wonderful.” Michelle takes a dainty sip of her pink wine and laughs giddily. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing. I can’t believe you guys make your own wines.”
“We’re glad you like it,” I smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s an expensive hobby, but the fruits are worth it.”
For the next several minutes, the three of us sit together and enjoy our evening cocktail.
My brother and I keep the conversation light and easy. We’re trying to get to know Michelle, and – while we know that she must have a million questions about what to expect from her time with us – we want to ease into the trickier conversations over dinner.
“So tell me sweetheart. When did you move to the city?” Gabriel asks, relaxing into his seat next to Michelle.
She smiles.
“A few years ago. I moved for law school, and then I ended up staying when I got a job at Draper Peabody.” Michelle looks down at her wine, frowning.
Keep it lighthearted, I remind myself.
“That’s great. Which law school did you go to?”
She smiles brilliantly.
“NYU. It was my first choice, and I was so excited when I got in. I’ve always wanted to live in Manhattan, but you know the city. Sometimes it’s too busy.”
I chuckle, nodding.
“Whenever I’m in the city, I enjoy the food and the noise, but then, I find myself missing the quiet of this house.” I smile at Michelle, hoping to ease her tension. She smiles in return.
“I can’t blame you. This place is incredible. By the way, I meant to ask: which one of you is the older brother? I honestly can’t tell – you are both way too hot.” Michelle blurts out then blushes a deep red. “That was rude of me, I’m so sorry.”
Gabriel and I each laugh loudly, the chuckles low and deep.
“Not at all. Tom here is my big brother, and he never lets me forget it,” Gabe says humorously.
I mock threaten him.
“I’m older by three years. And damn right I’m not going to let my kid brother forget it!”
Michelle grins widely at our antics, clearly relaxed thanks to the wine and the comfortable conversation. “Do you guys both live here?” She gestures around the room, indicating the estate.
“Yes,” I answer, pleased that Michelle wants to get to know more about us. “We grew up here mostly, on Long Island and in this house. We went to boarding schools in Manhattan, and then we both followed the usual route of Ivy League after Ivy League for our education.”
“Competing business schools, though, which is why I’m the better businessman,” Gabriel interjects with a wink.
I laugh heartily.
“Sure, sure, but I’m pretty sure I broke the first billion…”
“Always holding that over my head!” Gabriel leans back his head and laughs, his dark locks falling over one eye.
“You guys seem pretty close,” Michelle offers hesitantly.
“Always have been and probably always will be, unless our teams are competing. Then it’s just all out war.” I say with mock threat.
There’s a sharp knock at the door, followed by my personal valet entering. “Mr. Costas, dinner is served.”
“Thank you, Hendricks,” I tell the older man. “Shall we?” I stand and offer my hand to Michelle. She takes it quickly and as I pull her to her feet, I feel a charge of electricity at the touch.
Maintaining my composure, I loop Michelle’s arm through my own as I lead her to the formal dining room.
Again, I’m delighted to observe her reaction to the feast laid out before us. The dinner, as promised, consists of perfectly cooked filet mignon, potatoes, and a medley of cooked vegetables. In addition to the scrumptious looking food being brought out on various platters, the table is set with bone china, silver flatware, and a myriad of glasses for wine, water, and after dinner port.
“Sir,” Hendricks says, appearing out of nowhere to stand by the table. “Chef also requested that I let you know that for dessert, she made a lemon meringue pie, using lemons from the tree in the garden.”
“Very good.” I say while taking my seat at the head of the table.