The Truth About De Campo. Дженнифер Хейворд

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      Quinn’s heart clamped into the hard little ball that seemed to be its permanent state since Julian had left. No one but her knew the truth of her marriage. The public line had been irreconcilable differences. What happened behind Davis doors was never revealed.

      Better the truth of her marriage not be.

      She forced a wry smile to her lips. “Don’t go throwing your panties at Matteo De Campo. Not only will he break your heart, but he’ll be mad when he loses the bid.”

      Thea drew her brows together. “Have you already decided then?”

      “No, but De Campo’s probably last on the list.” She wanted Danny William’s Silver Kangaroo. The small, award-winning Australian winery was the perfect eclectic fit for what she wanted to do with the Luxe brand.

      “Daddy likes De Campo,” Thea said, following her to the door. “He said their new Napa wines are brilliant.”

      “Daddy isn’t making the decision.”

      Thea gave her a sideways look. “When are you going to stop trying to live up to this vision of perfection he expects? You could do that every day for the rest of your life and it’d still never be enough.”

      Possibly true. But she was a little afraid she’d die trying. This was the biggest opportunity of her career and she intended to make her mark with it.

      She did have to maintain some objectivity, she told herself as she and Thea made their way down the winding staircase, through the massive drawing room and out the French doors that led to the gardens where the cocktails were being served. It was only fair after all, even if she knew the choice she was going to make in the end.

      The terrace in the middle of the immaculately landscaped gardens was buzzing as they arrived, the two CEOs of the larger spirit companies with their wives in attendance, while Daniel Williams and Matteo De Campo had obviously elected to fly solo, to Thea’s delight.

      Surprising. Matteo’s Hollywood ex had been moaning in the tabloids about all of her ex-lover’s women, but not one was in sight tonight.

      All eyes settled on her and her sister. Blonde Thea glowed with the prospect of meeting her Prince Charming while her dark-haired alter ego felt herself the instant target of four sets of male eyes. Not because she was beautiful, although she knew that she was. But because she was their ticket to massive international sales growth.

      They were sizing her up. Waiting to see if she was as impressive as her track record. It sat on her shoulders with the almost oppressive weight that being Warren Davis’s daughter always had. She not only had to be better than the rest, she had to be ten times better.

      It was exhausting.

      Thea sucked in a breath. “I really may have to forgo my ranch-living plans. He is just unreal.”

      Quinn didn’t have to ask which man her sister was talking about, because Matteo De Campo’s laserlike gaze was focused on her and it was like being in the path of an undeniable force of magnetism the likes of which she’d never experienced before. She’d met a lot of good-looking men. Her husband had been stunning...but he—he was something else. Unblinking, unashamedly approving of what he saw, his gaze took every inch of her in, right down to her toes. She swallowed hard. Shifted her weight so both designer-covered feet absorbed the impact.

      “I hear he has a tattoo,” Thea whispered. “Hot, right?”

      Quinn couldn’t help but wonder where on that tall, lean, muscular body it was. The dark suit that covered him was exquisite. The body better.

      She found herself gaining a bit more respect for his legions of cast-offs as she returned his deliberate inspection. A woman might risk losing some self-respect over that. The photographs she’d seen of the youngest De Campo had been all about his lust for life, his freewheeling persona—the thick, unruly dark hair, the devil-may-care smile. But tonight, the hair was cropped close to his head so the sexy dark stubble that covered his square jaw showcased the perfection of his face. His expression was not the relaxed, indolent picture the tabloids loved to print. It was as intent as the night. Deliberate. Focused.

      Damn. The “I am a sexy beast” stubble really worked for him.

      She met his gaze, the amused half smile that curved his lips making her back stiffen. He was waiting for her to fall flat on her face. Waiting for her to fall all over him like every other woman did. She lifted her chin. He was so, so wrong on that. Julian had taught her well. The last thing any woman should trust was a pretty face in an expensive suit.

      Summoning the cool, untouchable look she did so perfectly, she walked to her father’s side. He made the introductions, the two spirit company CEOs first, then the two younger men. All four were impressive, charismatic personalities who would stand out in a crowd from the pure power they exuded like a second skin. But even Daniel Williams, the golden-haired wine-and-cattle baron who looked like he’d just walked out of a cigarette commercial seemed to fade into the background with Matteo De Campo standing beside him. Silver-gray, she registered as she shook his hand. Matteo’s eyes were the exact color of the Chicago sky before a summer storm caused all hell to break loose.

      Fitting then to feel that shiver slide up her spine.

      “Quinn,” he murmured, keeping his gaze locked on hers as he folded his big, warm hand around her fingers. “A stunning name for a stunning woman.”

      Her stomach did a funny roll as she retrieved her hand, the imprint of his fingers burning into hers. Is he for real?

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. De Campo,” she murmured smoothly. “Although I feel as if I should already know you with all the tabloid attention you’ve been getting lately.”

      He blinked, that one quick movement her only indication the gibe had landed. “Matteo, per favore,” he invited in a smooth, whiskey-soaked tone she was sure played a large part in how he slayed women. “And surely, Ms. Davis, you know better than to believe everything you read in the tabloids.”

      “Where there’s smoke there’s usually fire, Mr. De Campo.”

      A wry smile curved his lips. “A volte.”

      She lifted a brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

      “Sometimes,” he drawled. “Sometimes there is, Ms. Davis.”

      Her father flashed her a sharp look. Her head snapped back just like it had when she was ten and being rebuked at the dinner table for talking too much when the adults were conversing. Her shoulders came up and she summoned the exquisite manners the Davis family was legendary for. “Lovely to have you with us tonight.”

      Matteo’s eyes glimmered as he held up the bottle he was carrying. “My brother Gabriele wanted you to have this. It’s the first bottle off the line of this year’s Malbec.”

      The vintage that had the whole North American wine industry talking about it. The first bottle of the year at that. How very smooth. “I’m honored,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around the bottle. “It’s a brilliant wine. Thank you.”

      Score one for Matteo De Campo.

      “And this,” he added, pulling two small silver-wrapped packages out СКАЧАТЬ