Wed on His Terms: Million-Dollar Marriage Merger. Charlene Sands

      â€œWhy the sudden concern about my well-being?”

      Tony softened his tone. “I’ve always cared about you, Rena.”

      â€œNo, Tony. We’re not going there. Ever,” she emphasized. She wouldn’t go down that mental path. She and Tony had way too much history, and she thought she’d never heal from the wounds he’d inflicted.

      â€œCan’t you just forget for a few minutes who I am and who you are? Can’t we break bread together quietly and enjoy a good meal?”

      Rena relented but still questioned Tony’s mysterious behavior. “Fine. I’ll eat before the ravioli gets cold.”

      â€œThat’s a girl.”

      She shot him a look.

      He raised his hands up in surrender. “Sorry.” Then he dug into his filet mignon with gusto and sipped wine until he’d drained two goblets.

      After finishing their entrées, Tony cleared the dishes himself, refusing Rena’s help. He needed time to collect his thoughts and figure out how he was going to propose marriage to his best friend’s new widow and not come off sounding callous and cruel. There was only one route to take and that was to tell her the truth.

      Hell, he hadn’t ever really thought about marriage to anyone but Rena Fairfield. As teenagers, they’d spent many a night daydreaming of the time when they’d marry. But then Rena’s mother became ill, and Tony had been given a real opportunity to pursue his dream of racing stock cars. Leaving Rena behind to care for her ailing mother and help her father run Purple Fields had been the only black spot in an otherwise shining accomplishment. Begging her to join him served no purpose. She couldn’t leave. She had family obligations. She loved making wine. She loved Purple Fields. She was born to live in Napa, where Tony had been born to race.

      He’d hurt her. No, he’d nearly destroyed her.

      Each time he’d called her from the racing circuit, she’d become more and more distant. Until one day, she asked him not to call anymore. Two years later, she’d married David. He hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

      Tony covered a tray with tiramisu, spumoni ice cream and chocolate-coated cannolis. He returned to Rena and answered her skepticism as she watched him place the food on the table. “What? Regardless of what you think, I wasn’t born with a silver spoon. We had to do chores at the house. My father was a stickler for pulling your own weight.”

      â€œI would think you’re one who is used to being served.”

      â€œI am. I won’t deny it. Life is good now. I’m wealthy and can afford—”

      â€œShutting down a restaurant for the night to have a private dinner?”

      â€œYeah, among other things.”

      â€œI guess I should feel honored that you served me dinner. You must have a good reason.”

      â€œI do.” He glanced at the desserts on the table and moved a dish of spumoni her way. “You love ice cream. Dig in.”

      Rena didn’t hesitate. She picked up a spoon and dove into the creamy Italian fare.

      Tony dipped into it as well, butting spoons with her. They made eye contact, and Rena turned away quickly. How often had they shared ice cream in the past?

      After three spoonfuls of spumoni, Rena pushed the dish away. “Okay, Tony. I’ve had dinner with you. No one is around. So are you going to tell me why you needed to speak to me?”

      â€œI know you hate me, Rena.”

      She steered her gaze toward the fountain in the middle of the dining area. “Hate is a strong word.”

      â€œSo, you don’t hate me?” he asked, with a measure of hope.

      She looked into his eyes again. “I didn’t say that.”

      Tony didn’t flinch. He’d prepared himself for this. “What did David say to you before he died?”

      She straightened in her seat, her agitated body language not to be missed. “That’s none of your business.”

      â€œFair enough. But I need to tell you what he asked of me, Rena. I need you to hear his last words to me as I rode beside him in the ambulance.”

      Tears welled in her eyes. Tony was a sucker for Rena’s tears. He never could stand to see her cry.

      For a moment, fear entered her eyes as if hearing David’s words would cause her too much pain. But then, courageously, she nodded, opening her eyes wide. “Okay. Yes, I do want to hear what he said.”

      Tony spoke quietly, keeping his voice from cracking. “He told me he loved you.” Rena inhaled a quick breath, and those tears threatened again. “And that you deserved a good life.”

      â€œHe was the kindest man,” she whispered.

      â€œHis last thoughts were only of you.”

      A single tear fell from her eyes. “Thank you, Tony. I needed to hear that.”

      â€œI’m not through, Rena. There’s more.”

      She sat back in her seat and leaned heavily against the back of the booth, bracing herself. “Okay.”

      â€œHe asked me to to watch out for you. Protect you. And I intend to do just that. Rena, I intend to marry you.”

       Four

      Tony might as well have said he was going to fly to the moon on a broomstick; his declaration was just as ridiculous. Still, Rena couldn’t contain her shock. Her mouth dropped open. She couldn’t find the words.

      Her heart broke thinking that David’s very last thoughts and concerns hadn’t been for himself but for her. But at the same time, if what Tony had said was true, then a wave of anger built at her departed husband as well. How could he even suggest such a thing? Asking Tony to take care of her? To protect her? He was the last man on earth she trusted, and David knew that.

      Didn’t he?

      â€œYou can’t be serious,” she finally got out once a tumultuous array of emotions swept through her system.

      â€œI’m dead serious, Rena.” He pinned her with a sharp unrelenting look.

      â€œIt’s ridiculous.”

      â€œMaybe. But it’s David’s last wishes.”

      â€œYou’re saying he asked you to marry me?” Rena kept a tight reign on her rising blood pressure.

      Tony nodded. “I promised him, Rena.”

      â€œNo, no, no, no, no, no.” She shook her head so hard that her hair slipped out of its clip.

      Tony held steady peering into her eyes. “Tell me what he said to you. His last words.”

      â€œHe said,” she began, her voice shaky, her expression crestfallen. “He said he loved me. And that he wanted me to keep Purple Fields.” She looked down for a moment to compose herself. “He knew how much it meant to me.”

      â€œAnd you promised him?”

      â€œI did. But I—” Flashes of her conversation with Mr. Zelinski earlier today came flooding back. There was no hope of saving the winery. As much as it hurt her, she’d resolved