Un

Leah~

The blades of my suitcases echoed through the majestic halls leading up to my room. Any louder and it could wake the dead.

It has only been an hour since I got back to this place and all I could think about is to escape again. Its existence and my presence in this house are nothing short of suffocating. The air feels toxic and heavy, even with its nice white walls. I should be glad to be living in a mansion like this, any twenty-two-year-old woman would, but all I want to do is hitch a ride back to the airport and hop on a plane back to Chile. At least there was no judgment there and no pressure from my father.

I was shitting bricks when he called grandma yesterday and told her that my "little getaway" was getting out of hand and I needed to return to the vineyard, with no questions asked. He didn't even ask me if I was ready to come back home, I'm the one who just lost a mother and was falling apart. And I'm the one with the future of one of France's most expensive wine producers on my shoulders. And grandma, like the sweet little woman she was, just nodded and sent me packing. Sometimes I wonder who the parent was.

There is no telling why he called me home so abruptly in the first place. Best case scenario? He wants to strip me of this title and let me be. But I'm not that lucky. Worst case scenario? Gah, it could be anything with that man.

When I slipped through the front door, I saw Gia, the manager of the vineyard and the mother of my very best friend, Hayley. I told her not to let anyone know that I'm back yet, she understood why. Gia was an admirable woman, I wonder how much has changed since I left.

Gia wasn't going to snitch on me though, she and Hayley were the only good things left in this place. They're the only reason I might consider staying here after I've finished school. They were there for me when I started high school, had my first kiss- the entire two awful seconds of it, my first-time wine tasting- Gia even supplied the bottle. And most importantly, when my mother got sick, up until the day she died, a year ago.

The wheels roll over the last hump and I sigh out in exasperation. I'm starting to regret having my room on the top floor. It's definitely not good for my calves. But if this is what it takes to get some privacy, then so be it.

I opened the door in a flurry and the familiarity was enough for me to want to cry. It's not that I'm homesick, well I am, but I'm homesick for my mom. She helped me decorate this room when I turned eighteen and daddy finally allowed me to use my own money. You'd think one of the richest men in Northern Europe would allow his only daughter to buy her own food at school or at all, but not Peter Monroe. I had to enjoy the finer things in life, but at his will.

I dragged my feet into the brightly lit room- pastel and white with a dash of gray. It's clean- probably from the gazillion maids that come to clean on a daily basis. Everything seemed well organized, my gray bed neatly spread and stacked with plush pillows, my loveseat sprawled in front of it with white and pastel cushions arranged in the order that I like. Including the brighter pictures of my mom before we found out she was dying.

On the table next to the floor to ceiling windows, I spot a bottle of white wine, a glass next to it and an opener, saving me from dunking into those unpleasant memories.

Only one person would put it there, Hayley. Sure enough a note is attached to it. Welcome home, twinkies. A smile crept its way up my face. One thing about Hayley is that she knows how exactly to cheer me up. I had no idea where she was but I know I'll be seeing her soon. And that she'll help me finish this bottle.

I didn't plan on drinking now but if the universe insists. I pop the bottle open and pour my glass to the brim, a formal "fuck you" to whoever invented the concept of not filling up wine glasses in the first place. Then open my windows that not only give me a magnificent view of the entire vineyard but provide an escape when I wanted it.

I can't believe how easy it was to careen down the ladders in my heels with a glass, I should really consider doing something like this as a side job- join a pantomime or something. The once ripe summer sun was setting now, thankfully. Once I was next to the first floor balcony, I hop onto it and scoot to comfort on its ledge. Behind me was the gateway to the kitchen, it wasn't dinner time yet so I should be alone for a while.

Down below was the pride and joy of wine lovers across the world. The Lavigne Vineyard. The alluring view never gets old to look at. Rows and rows of pristine plants cascade down the slopes of South France hills. The semi-ripened fruits painted the lush green with hints of red, purple, burnt orange, it spanned for miles and was so beautiful.

I could see everything from here, the blanket of fine greenery that ran between the chiseled concrete floor of the compound. Massive oak trees bordering the outposts, the wine shops set up at random stations, the processors, and wine cellars. Employees bustled about down there, dad was nowhere in sight. He was probably in his office devising ways to make my life hell.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow moving behind me. One minute I was sitting upright about to taste my wine, the next minute, I was tipping over the ledge, wearing it.

Suddenly, a powerful arm sweeps around me, not only stopping me from keeling over but lifting me against a chest. A very large chest by the looks of it and by the feel... Let's just say that the concrete pavement was putty compared to it. Now I'm light-headed, heart pumping so hard, I fear a vein might pop. And it isn't because I almost fell to my death. I grip onto that arm to hold myself steady. A ripple of firm muscles greeted me beneath the confines of his suit.

Just then, the delicious scent of his expensive cologne washes over me, filling my nostrils and I'm forced to inhale every intoxicating essence. Despite the burn, I squint my eyes wider to see the person- the man- that is absolutely gorgeous. Electric blue eyes stare down at me with concern. A roguishly chiseled face went with his burly physique, inky black curls graze the shoulder of his crisp suit. I was fully aware that my white shirt was soaking wet but I can't help but take in every inch of perfection that was his man.

His lips were so smooth-looking, hinting that he was drinking red wine, or gosh, maybe that was his shade. Tasting them would be the only way to find out.

He still hasn't let me go and I realize that I might not either. A moment like this was too good to pass up. Suddenly, a gust of wind blasts between us and that's when I realize the magnitude of the situation, I'm covered in wine, pressed up to a man that I didn't know, in the vineyard I'm supposed to run one day. Daddy would be so pissed, even if this man did just save me from being squashed.

"Thank you, I was a little-" We're close enough for me to peer over the balcony, I spot the shattered glass.

"Drunk?" He guessed. His voice, the sound of smoke, and all the bottles of Lavigne red wine. I was a little distracted by its rich, deep accent but I managed to shake my head.

"Well no. You're the one who scared me actually, I thought you were my-" His hands left my body abruptly as if he was scalded and I feel a sense of loss. He didn't even wait for me to finish, he created more distance between us before disappearing behind the door of the kitchen.

"O- kay." I bite down on my lip, swiping the wet hair from my face. That was strange.

Was this how everyone else in the compound would act whenever I talk to them? Or was it just him? Where did he come from? I don't remember him being here a couple of months ago when I left. Maybe he's another employee, but I might be wrong. He gave off something far greater than that.

I feel as if I finished that entire bottle. I wish I had. Or maybe it's the confusion talking.

Well, hell. That's a shitty way to make a first impression.