Chapter 2

The air in the underground wine cellar was thick, heavy with the scent of aged oak, damp earth, and the sharp, metallic tang of red wine breathing in the glass. It was a world apart from the polished marble and polite chatter of the gala above us, a subterranean sanctuary where the light didn’t just fall; it pooled, amber and flickering, cast by a hundred beeswax candles that lined the curved stone walls. I had spent the last hour standing in the center of the main tasting room, a sea of tuxedos and silk, feeling like a peacock in a pen of pigeons. But now, the noise had faded to a distant hum, muffled by the thick stone, and the space felt smaller, more intimate, the way a secret feels when it’s kept between two people who shouldn’t be keeping it. He had pulled me away an hour ago, his hand firm on the small of my back, guiding me through the labyrinth of stacked crates and towering barrels to a secluded alcove near the old fermentation vats. The room was dimmer here, the light catching the dust motes dancing in the air like suspended gold. He had loosened his