Chapter 1 - THE MAN AT MY FRONT DOOR
The most feared Mafia boss in America arrived at my family’s failing country inn at nine-thirteen in the morning carrying a diamond ring and a box of peach pastries.
That was when I knew my life had officially become ridiculous.
I stood halfway down the staircase in yesterday’s yellow sundress, one cowboy boot on, one foot bare, while Vincent Moretti filled our front doorway like he had been personally designed to make old houses look smaller.
Behind him stood three men in black suits.
Behind them sat a limousine worth more than our entire inn.
My cousin Tess whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Vincent looked up.
Straight at me.
Then smiled.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
I nearly fell down the stairs.
“Why are you here?”
His eyebrow lifted.
“You proposed.”
“I was drunk.”
“You were enthusiastic.”
“I was very drunk.”
“You gave a four-minute speech.”
Tess made a strangled sound beside me.
I pointed at Vincent.
“I do not remember any four-minute speech.”
“I do.”
“That is deeply unfortunate.”
He stepped inside.
My grandmother appeared from the kitchen carrying a rolling pin.
She looked him up and down.
“You the man who carried Daisy around like a sack of potatoes?”
Vincent, to his credit, did not seem offended.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you drop her?”
“No.”
Grandma nodded.
“Good start.”
“Grandma!”
Vincent almost laughed.
Then he opened the small black box in his hand.
The diamond inside was enormous.
I stared.
“No.”
“I haven’t asked anything yet.”
“Then close it before I faint.”
He did.
Slowly.
“Daisy, I’m not here to force you into marriage.”
Relief hit me.
Then he continued:
“I’m here because your proposal created a problem.”
Of course it did.
“What problem?”
He pulled out his phone.
Another video had gone viral overnight.
This one showed Vincent taking my drunken hand while I stood on a picnic table.
I was shouting:
“If you marry me, you have to help save Bennett Inn!”
The crowd laughed.
Then Vincent answered:
“Done.”
My stomach dropped.
“You said done?”
“You were persuasive.”
“You agreed to save my inn?”
“In front of eight hundred witnesses.”
“And four million people online,” Tess whispered.
I glared at her.
Vincent continued.
“My business partners now believe Bennett Inn matters to me.”
“Why would that matter?”
His expression changed.
Because beneath the amusement, there was something colder.
“Last night, someone tried to buy the mortgage from your bank.”
I stopped smiling.
“What?”
“Cash offer.”
“How much?”
“Enough that the bank almost accepted.”
My grandmother slowly lowered the rolling pin.
Vincent’s voice became quiet.
“They didn’t care about the inn yesterday.”
“Now they do.”
“Because you publicly connected yourself to me.”
I swallowed.
“Who tried to buy it?”
Vincent looked toward one of his men.
The man handed him a folder.
Vincent opened it.
One company name.
CAVALLO DEVELOPMENT GROUP.
I knew it.
Everyone in town did.
They had been trying to buy surrounding farms for almost a year.
Vincent looked at me.
“Do you know them?”
“Yes.”
“They want to build a luxury resort.”
“No.”
His eyes sharpened.
“No?”
“My family refused to sell.”
Vincent nodded slowly.
“That explains part of it.”
“Part?”
He handed me another page.
A land survey.
Our inn sat directly above something labeled:
EAST ACCESS CORRIDOR.
I frowned.
“What is that?”
Vincent’s expression lost all humor.
“A route my enemies have been trying to control for ten years.”
My headache suddenly seemed less important.
I whispered:
“What kind of route?”
He looked toward the floor beneath my bare feet.
“An underground one.”
Then Grandma spoke from behind us.
“I told your grandfather to fill that tunnel in.”
Everyone turned.
I stared at her.
“What tunnel?”
May you like
She closed her eyes.
And Vincent Moretti’s face went completely still.
