Chapter 5

The air in the private tasting room was cool, thick with the scent of aged oak, damp earth, and the lingering, fruity breath of a Pinot Noir we had just sampled. It was a sensory overload designed to refine the palate, to strip away the mundane and elevate the experience to something almost spiritual. But for me, standing just outside the heavy velvet curtains of the secluded alcove, the only thing that mattered was the heat radiating from the man standing before me. Silas had led me away from the main group, his hand firm on the small of my back, guiding me into this quiet sanctuary where the rest of the elite guests could barely hear the clinking of crystal or the low hum of conversation. Here, the world narrowed down to the space between us. His suit jacket was already discarded on a nearby chair, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle, the cuffs slightly undone to expose his wrists. He looked every bit the patriarch I had fantasized about all evening—the man who owned the land, the wine, and now, seemingly, my sanity. He turned to face me, his dark eyes locking