In a very few minutes after that Piero and Zia said their farewells to Emiliano and were soon back in Piero’s car, the air conditioning blasting as if he felt the need to cool his temper. As soon as they were out of sight of the winery, he slapped both hands on the black steering wheel. ‘Fuck!’ He drove too quickly, as if his mood had affected his road sense, bumping the car along the winding lane between the vigorous green of growing vines and sunny yellow roses. ‘Now Binotto’s have said they’ll go ahead without Bella Vista my position’s weak. If I refuse to sell Il Rifugio the deal falls through and that’s not fair on Emiliano and Papà.’

For Zia, all pleasure had gone from the day. She clung on to the door handle, her words jumping about in accordance with the uneven terrain. ‘I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. Questioning the advice about the right of way just made Binotto’s rethink their attack.’ She suspected they were seeking a division in the family in order to conquer and Piero was hurt that they might have hit on the very spot – Salvatore Domenicali’s spontaneity.

‘It is … unfortunate,’ Piero admitted tautly. ‘But please don’t apologise. It’s an unintended consequence, that’s all.’ Then he stamped on the accelerator and the engine note sounded as angry as she knew he was, despite his effort to keep his tone even.

‘But I am sorry,’ she muttered. She’d actually been planning to share another option with him once they were alone. To her, there was a glaringly obvious avenue none of his family seemed to have peeped down. But now, smarting under the realisation that she’d broken the golden rule that the unqualified shouldn’t dish out advice, she bit her tongue. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, she could remember Gran scolding, if ever Zia had overreached herself as she apparently had now.

Disappointment sloshed like cold custard in her stomach. Last night had been magical, when Piero had shared the stars with her and they’d made love half the night. It could have led to a summer romance … if his following of her well-meant advice hadn’t backfired.

In silence they drove onto Via Virgilio, up the hill and in through the gap in the rocks. Feeling he might prefer his own company, she said, ‘Ursula will be thinking I’ve deserted her. Park at your place and I’ll walk through.’

He sighed. ‘I need to visit Bella Vista anyway to tell Lucia and Durante about the email.’

‘Right. Yes.’ She supposed the lovely couple at Bella Vista might just appreciate knowing their home and business were safe from immediate threat.