‘But there’s no other deal,’ Emiliano circled back obstinately. ‘What if there never is? Papà retires, you and I carry on, bearing all the risk as the market dwindles until we can’t afford to grow grapes. Nature takes back Tenuta Domenicali and we’re left with nothing.’

Piero paused. It had happened to other small vineyards.

Salvatore made good on the hesitation. ‘Binotto’s wants this as a working vineyard for wine tourism so whether the wine is produced at a profit becomes secondary.’

Piero took his seat again. ‘I know all that.’ He couldn’t blame his brother or father for wanting easier lives and Salvatore wanting to enjoy time with Graziella. When she and Salvatore had met Piero had welcomed it. Elvira, his mother, had died with a kidney problem when Piero was twenty and he didn’t begrudge his father a life. In fact, he’d been wryly amused. That the then sixty-eight-year-old Salvatore had attracted a fifty-three-year-old woman, and a willowy and attractive woman at that, was impressive. Graziella and her ex-husband had owned three small hotels and sold out to a chain when they divorced. Graziella still liked to dabble in business. But it was a damned shame she saw fit to ‘dabble’ in Tenuta Domenicali and an even worse shame that his father and brother were letting her.

‘I won’t be rushed.’ Piero looked at his father, meaning, ‘Call Graziella off.’ Salvatore’s eyes narrowed but he nodded.

Less than an hour later, Piero was in his own office on a video call when, to his fury, Graziella bounced in wearing a yellow dress and gold sandals, both designer, her carefully cultivated corkscrew curls flying. Ignoring the virtual meeting he was in the middle of she cried, ‘Piero, I won’t have you upsetting your father. You’re making him ill—’

It was all Piero could do not to leap to his feet and bellow, ‘Get OUT!’ Luckily, Salvatore appeared on Graziella’s heels, hooked his arm around hers and bustled her back up the corridor.

Breathing hard, Piero returned to his computer screen where the woman who’d been pitching the environmental and economic benefits of moving cargo by barge in Germany was looking surprised but fascinated. ‘Scusi,’ he muttered. Inwardly, he seethed.

Then he checked his thoughts. Why had Graziella picked on his father’s health as a lever? Did she know something?

It became impossible to concentrate. He wound up the call then strode up the narrow corridor to the big office. As so often these days, he found Graziella and Salvatore sharing his father’s ancient desk, Graziella’s finely manicured fingers on the keyboard and Salvatore peering through his glasses at the screen.

‘Are you ill, Papà?’ he asked tautly.

Salvatore looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m tired, that’s all.’

‘You’re sure?’ Piero regarded his father narrowly, checking for telltale signs that all wasn’t well.