Tony leaves us in the tasting room to check on one of the barrels. I’ve been trying to avoid Miller since the naked incident, but it’s been close to impossible. This time, when he speaks, I can’t cut him off with a question to Mr. Gyles.

“Can you imagine?” Miller asks. “Starting something that will be passed on for generations to come. I wish I could’ve followed Dad’s steps.”

“Well, you have a company,” I remind him.

“Would you force your children to go into the business because it’s their legacy?”

I shake my head. “It’d have to be something like this, you know. Or like my parent’s little farm, which is becoming like a family business. Not that I’m a part of it.”

“Family business,” Miller says. “You contribute to it, don’t you?”

“If creating all their branding, campaigns, and advertisements count, then I guess I do.”

“When you worked on them, what were you thinking?”

“I wanted them to reflect why Mom does it. She’s always been pro-organic, clean eating and all that new age health-nut stuff.” I press my index finger to my lips. “Don’t tell her the last part though.”

“I think that’s what we need to do with this place.”

“You seriously think we can work together, don’t you?”

“I know we can, and I don’t think this is optional.”

“So what? I trust you with what I can do and then watch you take it away from me?”

He shakes his head. “Come to work with me. I’ll give you whatever you want,” he offers.

I laugh. “God, that’s your angle, hiring me?”

“You and I could do amazing things together,” he says with that arrogant confidence I used to admire, and now I detest.

“We could’ve, but you missed your chance,” I remind him.

“I’ll match your salary and give you ten percent of the company’s shares,” he offers.

“Why would I want that?”

“You said it once, Blend will never be yours.”

“And 23 Media would?” I ask skeptically.

He nods. “That’s the plan.”

“You’re only trying to figure out a way to keep this account and not lose the ones you already have.”

He glares at me. “I heard you’ve been visiting your old accounts, not cool, Clarice.”

“The non-compete clause has expired. I can pursue them.”

“If you want them, come and work with me.”

“I’ll never work for you,” I repeat.

“I said with me, not for me,” he says.

“Uh-huh and once you don’t need me, you’ll push me away. If there was another way to nail this account, you’d be working that angle.”

As he’s about to speak, Mr. Gyles enters the room.

“Shall we continue? Let me show you the champagne crop,” he says.