The Italian Billionaire’s Nubian Queen

“Aly, I know. I know how much it hurts, okay? I’m coming with you. It’s not just for me, it’s for you, too. I have to save you from yourself, and you have to save me from myself. Like always.”

Alyssa had to chuckle.

“It is like always, isn’t it?”

“That’s what sisters are for. Now come on, let’s go in before we have to explain to mom what took us so long.”

“Right. Right, of course. Yes. Let’s put our happy faces on and have dinner with our mother, shall we?”

Brianna brandished the two bottles of wine. “I’ve got our happy faces right here.”

Alyssa giggled as they got out of the car, pulled their coats tight against the evening chill that spring brought, and went inside the house they’d called home for so long. They had each other’s backs. They always did.

No matter what, that was one thing that would never change. They would always have each other’s backs.

***

Matteo Colombo considered.

It wasn’t necessary, not really. He didn’t have to do much for his vinery’s reputation, not anymore. The Colombo label in itself was prized. It stood for quality, careful selection and even more careful winemaking.

It had always been as good as it was now. He’d just taken the name and let it fly. Now, the logo—a dove holding a leaf, because a grape would’ve been far too obvious—was synonymous with quality, and he had made sure that it would endure. For a few years, he’d been obliged to go to all of those events. It wasn’t like he’d ever minded, not really. But he’d minded being there and needing anybody else’s approval for what he knew was better than anything anybody else had.

He’d always had faith in his family’s wines. At times, it had felt like he was the only one who did. But it didn’t matter now. Because now, he could do as he pleased.

Maybe it would please him to go to California. It had been a while since he’d been in the States. He enjoyed spending time there. The weather would be nice. The event would be fun. He knew that they were very careful with who they invited, because he was one of the hosts. Oh, that didn’t mean that he had to go. His company would foot part of the bill and provide quite a bit of the refreshments, that was all.

It was good PR. It was a good way to build an elite and exclusive community of people who enjoyed Colombo wines. But those were the reasons he used to justify the expense to himself. The real reason was that he loved the idea of it. He loved the idea of being the host and entertaining all of those people who were so eager and keen to appreciate their offerings.

All right, so it was a bit of an ego thing. Matteo had no problem admitting that. He was quite justifiably proud of what he’d done with the business.

Matteo stood at the window of his bedroom in his villa, overlooking the vineyard where the most acclaimed of his grapes grew. They were perfect, of course, and the wine made from them had the highest quality designation that any Italian wine could have. It wasn’t like the Colombo label only catered to those who could afford the very finest, though. He had holdings throughout the country, and he had recently expanded into the States. It made sense to go and see for himself how his investment there was doing. He would enjoy it. It would be a nice break.

It had been a while since he’d had a break.Matteo didn’t often do things on impulse, but he made this decision on a whim. He made the call, even if it was outside of working hours. His personal assistant, Claudia, would be on call. She always was. Perhaps some people would call that an unreasonable expectation, but it was part of the reason why he paid Claudia an admittedly outrageous salary with bonuses that senior management would eye enviously.

“Claudia? Yes, please make arrangements. I’ll be going to the event.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Colombo. Anything specific that you need, other than the usual?”

“No, I don’t believe so. If something comes up, I’m sure you’ll be well placed to handle it.”

“Of course, Mr. Colombo. I’ll take care of it right away.”

Matteo hung up and surveyed his empire, as he liked to call it occasionally, when he wanted to mock himself just a little bit. Gabriel would be happy to hear that he was leaving, of course. His brother—no, his half-brother—found Matteo’s authority and often inflexible ways very chafing. Not that Matteo found that a reason for concern. Gabriel wasn’t his problem. Gabriel was Gabriel’s problem, and of course, that of his stepmother, Alexandra.

What a pair they were! Alexandra always claimed that Matteo was making all the wrong choices and all the wrong decisions, running the family business into the ground, despite all evidence to the contrary. The business was now worth several billions, and Matteo’s personal wealth apart from what was tied up in the business ran into several substantial millions. Including his assets in the form of the company, he was a billionaire. By any reckoning, Matteo was a success. Everything he’d done with the family business, one that Alexandra had never taken the slightest interest in, of course, had been done wisely and deliberately.

Of course she would complain. For her, the biggest flaw was that her darling son wasn’t the one ruling over it all.

Matteo had always been willing to indulge his little brother, but that was one place where he would not indulge Gabriel. He had worked too hard, sacrificed too much of his own life and his own sanity, even his happiness, to give Gabriel any real responsibility and risk having him ruin everything. Still…

There was one way to solve that problem, of course. There was one way to, let’s say, consolidate his legacy and put it beyond anybody’s reach. There was one way to make sure that he was in control, always.

And that was to have an heir to leave it all to. An heir he could groom to take over everything he’d built, somebody with the wherewithal to understand everything that Matteo understood, maybe have insights of his own. But there was that ego again. There were plenty of people who worked for him who would have as much knowledge as he did about wines and winemaking, and even about brands and strategy. The student mentorship programs that his company had become involved in thanks to Claudia’s insistence had shown him that the younger generation was wiser than most expected and very keen, too.

There was plenty of choice. If he wanted to choose somebody to be sure that Gabriel didn’t run the business, the legacy and the family name—a name he wore proudly, unlike Gabriel—he could. He could find somebody who could live up to the name that had historically been given to orphans who had nothing. Dove—it meant dove. He’d made it their symbol, in tribute to his grandfather who had fought tooth and nail to become more than his name implied.

But there was a problem.

That ego, and that pride that Matteo freely admitted to. He even admitted to the hypocrisy of it. He wanted an heir who was his own flesh and blood. And that, of course, involved taking a wife, and building a family.

It wasn’t an entirely unappealing though. Maybe, now that he’d turned thirty, it was time to think about it.

But there was no hurry. He had time yet.

Time to indulge himself, as he intended to. Thoroughly.