Unmasking Juliet (21 page)

“That was just the day before yesterday.”

She squirmed in her seat. “I slept with him. That doesn’t mean I’m going to marry him. Please.”

“If you married him, that would mean you’d be related to Joe Mezzanotte.” Alegra released an exaggerated shudder.

Related to Joe Mezzanotte. That was a sobering thought. She’d have to remember it if she was tempted to sleep with Leo again. Assuming she’d ever be free of her volunteer bodyguards. “I rest my case. I have no plans to marry Leo. Now or ever.”

Never in her life had sleeping with someone blown up in her face in such a spectacular way. She climbed out of the car and slammed the door.

Alegra hustled to catch up with her. “Then what’s this big bomb you plan to drop?”

“You’ll see.” She reached for the doorknob and strode inside.

Alegra could wait five minutes and find out with everyone else. Juliet had pretty much lost faith in anyone’s ability to keep a secret around here.

“Juliet. Alegra. Good morning,” her mother said crisply from behind the cash register.

Her father looked up, offered a weak smile and then went back to stamping white paper bags with the Arabella Chocolate Boutique logo. Nico just smirked. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.

Juliet stifled a sigh and marveled at the fact that her big win at the chocolate festival had seemingly been eclipsed by Leo’s fainting spell and its subsequent mess. Okay, so she’d committed the unpardonable sin. But she’d managed to finally beat Leo. And from the looks of things, Mezzanotte Chocolates was no longer affiliated with Royal Gourmet. That envelope-ripping episode had looked pretty damning.

Something that felt an awful lot like guilt nagged at her, which was profoundly absurd. Why should she feel bad about the whole Royal Gourmet mess? Hadn’t she been slaving away for over a week now trying to duplicate the
chocolat chaud
recipe? She hadn’t gone through all that trouble just for fun. Besides, the Mezzanottes were doing just fine over there across the street. They always had, and they always would, thanks to their mass-produced candy bars. She shouldn’t feel the slightest bit guilty that her involvement with Leo had botched a possible arrangement between him and George, of all people.

And she didn’t. Much.

“I have an announcement,” she said, stowing her handbag beneath the counter.

“What is it?” Her mother paled. “I’m not sure I can take much more.”

For a second, she thought about faking an affair with Joe Mezzanotte just to make a point. But it was too horrid a thought to even joke about. “I’m going to Rome.”

Nico glanced up from the row of candied cordials he was arranging in the front display case. “Rome? As in Rome, Italy?”

Was there another Rome? “Yes.”

“When?” Alegra looked equally confused.

So, everyone really had forgotten she’d won the chocolate festival. “In two weeks. For the
Roma Festa del Cioccolato.
I qualified because I won Saturday. Remember?”

Alegra slipped an apron over her head and tossed an extra one at Juliet. “But you qualified last year, too. And the year before that. You’ve never been before.”

“Well, I’m going now.” She squared her shoulders and prepared herself for a fight. Since she was already in a heap of trouble, she was sure there would be no shortage of opinions about her taking off for Italy.

“Right.” Nico rolled his eyes.

“Honey, I’m not sure now is the best time for you to be competing in Rome. It sounds expensive.” Her dad frowned at the cash register as if he could summon airfare simply by staring at the machine.

“Rome. Wow.” Nothing about Alegra’s expression indicated that she believed Juliet was actually going anywhere.

“Everyone, just wait a minute.” A smile came to her mother’s lips. Not a scary smile, but a genuine one, which made it all the more frightening. “I think Juliet going to Rome is a wonderful idea.”

A protest was on the tip of Juliet’s tongue, ready to fly right out, until she realized what her mother had said. She closed her mouth for a second, then opened it again. “You do?”

Nico peeled off his plastic gloves and threw them on the counter. “No way. You can’t be serious. After what she’s done?”

Her dad held up a hand in warning. “Nico.”

It was as if she and her brother were in grade school all over again.

“I think it’s a
wonderful
idea,” her mom repeated, practically baring her teeth.

And then it dawned on Juliet exactly what was going on.

If she was a good six thousand miles away from Napa Valley, it would be hard to carry on an affair with Leo. She could roam around free of supervision and still not get into trouble. It seemed like an awfully extreme strategy, though. Maybe she was reading too much into her mother’s reaction. Maybe she really thought Juliet could compete in Rome and do well there.

“Perhaps you could even leave a few days early. You know, just to see a few sights before the contest begins.” The weird smile on her mom’s face grew even wider.

Okay, so maybe she really was trying to usher Juliet out of the country before she could see Leo again. That was fine. It still meant she was going to Rome.

“It’s settled.” Her mom nodded. “You’ll go. We’ll look into flights this afternoon. Maybe once the contest gets underway, the rest of us can fly out and join you. I’ll need to look at the budget first, of course. But this is a huge event for Arabella Chocolate Boutique. If you do well there on the heels of winning the Napa Valley Chocolate Fair, it could mean big things for us.”

Big things, as in getting back into Napa’s finest restaurants. Now that George and Royal Gourmet were out of the equation, and she and Leo each had one win under their belts, it was anyone’s game.

Win or lose, she was going to Rome. At last.

* * *

“You’re going to Rome.”

“Hmm?” Leo had only half heard whatever it was his uncle had said.

He’d barely crossed the threshold and was admittedly distracted. It was strange being in Mezzanotte Chocolates for the first time since learning the inconvenient truth about his new allergy. Everywhere he turned there was chocolate. Hell, he could smell it from the moment he’d opened his car door outside.

“I said, you’re going to Rome. You leave in twelve days. Get packing.” Uncle Joe flipped the sign on the door from Closed to Open.

“Whatever for?” Leo crossed his arms.

He wasn’t going to Rome. Boarding an international flight was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d had a grand total of one headache-free day since he’d climbed off the plane from Paris, and that day had been just yesterday. He hadn’t even been able to enjoy it since he’d been grappling with how to handle his new reality.

Uncle Joe straightened his tie. The man was seventy years old, and he still wore a suit and tie to work every day. In a chocolate shop. “For the contest, of course. Why else?”

Why else indeed? The whole world revolved around chocolate.

Not anymore.
“We need to have a talk.”

“Yes, we certainly do. When were you going to tell me that you were sleeping with Juliet Arabella?” Leo’s uncle slammed his fist down on the countertop. The chocolate straws next to the register jumped in their tall glass apothecary jar.

“Don’t start in on that, Uncle Joe. There are more important things we need to discuss right now.”

“What could possibly be more important? George Alcott has rescinded his offer of representation. No Royal Gourmet contract. No
chocolat chaud.
No French Laundry. All because out of all the women in the United States of America, you had to choose her.”

“Forget about Royal Gourmet and George Alcott III. That man is an idiot.” Leo could have told him that there would have been no contract regardless. But why stir that particular pot now? They had enough to sort out. “What makes you think I’m going to Rome for the
Roma Festa del Cioccolato?
I lost the other day. Remember?”

“A technicality.” Uncle Joe shrugged, and his gaze dropped to the countertop.

“No. Not a technicality. I lost. Juliet won. Fair and square.” It would have been nice to have won. He’d probably never compete again. Not now that he couldn’t even eat his own recipes. And forget ever participating in another taste-test challenge.

But he hadn’t won. Juliet had. No amount of pouting on Uncle Joe’s part would change that.

Although Uncle Joe didn’t exactly look like he was pouting. “You’re in. Like I said, a technicality.”

“What did you do?” Leo lowered himself onto one of the barstools across the counter from his uncle. He had a feeling he’d be better off sitting down for this conversation.

“I made a few calls. It didn’t take long to convince the organizers that in the case of a tie in a qualifying event, both finalists should be eligible to compete in Rome. They were more than agreeable.”

A few calls. Uncle Joe and that damned phone of his.

Leo lifted a brow. “Were they now?”

“Yes. Think about it from their point of view. They said if you and Juliet both made the trip to Rome, they could play up the rematch between the two of you. It could draw even more attention to the competition.” Uncle Joe rolled his eyes. “Of course, that will never happen, but I didn’t tell them that. I’m not about to shoot myself in the foot like that.”

Something about this whole thing just wasn’t right. “And why are you so sure it would never happen?”

Uncle Joe waved a dismissive hand. “Juliet Arabella isn’t about to go to Rome. She could have already competed there five times over. She’s going to stay right here and slave away under her mother’s watchful eye like she always does.”

Leo’s hands balled into fists. “Uncle Joe...”

“Before you get all up in arms about it, think for a minute. Have you heard a word from her since you nearly died the other day?” Uncle Joe looked at him expectantly.

He hadn’t heard from her. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. A lot had happened over the course of the weekend.

“I’d hardly say that I nearly died.”

There was a grain of truth to it, though.

“You were unconscious on the floor. You’d think that the woman you’re sleeping with would want to know if you’d lived or died. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Well, if
that’s all...
” Leo rolled his eyes. He was sure there was no end to what his uncle wanted to say. “Can we not talk about Juliet? Please. Let’s stick with the matter at hand. Why do you want me to go Rome so badly?”

“For the money, of course.”

It was the last thing Leo had expected his uncle to say. “You mean the twenty-thousand-dollar prize money? The odds of winning aren’t great. And it would cost an arm and a leg for airfare and accommodations. It would be a gamble.”

Something in Uncle Joe’s eyes flashed. “Any reason you’re using that particular word?”

“No, I...” Leo paused. He remembered how tense Uncle Joe had been in the days leading up to the chocolate festival. All the phone calls. All the agitation. And he was suddenly hit with a sickening memory. His mother crying. His father begging for forgiveness.
I’m sorry. I’ll never play cards again.
He searched his uncle’s gaze and saw hints of that same look of regret he’d seen so often in his father’s eyes growing up. History was repeating itself. “Uncle Joe, did you gamble on the results of the chocolate fair yesterday?”

The lines in his uncle’s face seemed to deepen. “Don’t sound so self-righteous. It was a small bet, and you were sure to win. I was simply showing faith in my nephew.”

Turn it around on someone else. Classic gambling addict behavior. Only his uncle wasn’t a gambling addict. At least not to Leo’s knowledge. “How small, exactly?”

Uncle Joe grew very quiet, and Leo realized that not only did they have a problem, but they had a big one. Really big.

He shook his head. “First, Dad, and now, you.”

“This has nothing to do with your father,” Uncle Joe said.

Was he actually delusional enough to believe that nonsense? “Our family has a problem, Uncle Joe. Face it.”

Our family has a problem.

Our
family.

No.
Leo shook his head.
No, it couldn’t be.

He didn’t want to believe it, but it was the only explanation. Clearly the family problem went much farther back than he realized.

He closed his eyes, and Elenore Arabella’s faded pencil marks in her journal danced in his memory.

Donnatella has been so quiet of late...she thinks we should sell our recipes to a candy bar company. Thinking of giving away everything we’ve worked so hard for hurts my heart.

His grandmother hadn’t been herself. She’d been quiet. Withdrawn. Desperate.

And then she’d betrayed her best friend.

For money.

Leo ground his teeth together and leveled his gaze at his uncle. “This is what’s behind the feud, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Leo. I made a few bets. Bets I should have won. The feud has been going on for years.”

Leo pounded his fist on the counter. “I’m talking about our family history. You...Dad...who else? Was it my grandmother or my grandfather? I know it was one of them. Tell me.”

Uncle Joe grew pensive and stared at Leo’s fist for several long seconds before answering. “I’m not saying he had a problem, but your grandfather was known to make a bet or two in his day.”

Leo let the news sink in while he blew out a strained breath. So this was it. The real reason behind the Arabella-Mezzanotte strife. “A bet large enough to put Bellanotte Chocolates in danger?”

“Maybe.” Uncle Joe finally looked up. “But your grandmother still did that Arabella woman a favor. Mass producing those chocolates put them on the map.”

Leo dropped his head in his hands, scrubbed them across his face. Uncle Joe could spin it however he wanted, but the fact was that the Mezzanotte gambling problem was at the root of the bad blood between his family and Juliet’s.

And he’d thought he could come back home and pretend nothing that had happened in his childhood actually mattered.

“Leo, we need to talk about the matter at hand. Not things that happened fifty years ago,” his uncle said quietly.