Unmasking Juliet Read Free

to George, Arabella Chocolates could be found on the menus of some of Napa’s finest restaurants. For the first time in decades, the Arabellas finally had the upper hand on the Mezzanottes.
    “Everything will be fine. I won’t let her out of my sight,” George murmured, his voice syrupy smooth.
    Juliet’s father let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a sigh.
    Then her mother weighed in. “We agreed on this, remember? Joe Mezzanotte is making a big announcement tonight about the future of Mezzanotte Chocolates. George was invited. Let him take Juliet. She’ll find out firsthand what exactly is going on over there. You know what they say—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Her mother’s hatred had always been more shrewd in nature than her father’s, though no less intense.
    There were a few more urgent whispers, but Juliet tried to tune them out. Truth be told, she was a little nervous about this whole ordeal. It was one thing to come face-to-face with the Mezzanottes on the street or at the occasional food festival or dessert fair. But it was quite another to walk into their masquerade ball as though her name appeared somewhere on the guest list.
    At least her face would be covered. She ran her fingertips over the edge of her rhinestone-encrusted, Venetian-style mask. She’d intentionally chosen the most feathered, bejeweled one she could find. All the better to hide behind.
    At last George climbed in, his cell phone already glued to his ear, and sat down opposite her. The car began what seemed like an excruciatingly slow crawl toward the Manocchio Winery, the site of the fancy masked ball. At least the party was being held at a neutral location. She’d sooner die than walk into the Mezzanottes’ family home.
    “How are the Cabernet Sauvignon truffles coming along?” George asked when he finally ended his call.
    He removed a dark bottle of champagne from the limo’s built-in bar. The movement struck Juliet as profoundly odd. As many times as Juliet had been in his limo, she couldn’t remember drinking anything more exotic than Fiji water.
    “Great. I think I’ve finally perfected the recipe.” She smiled.
    You couldn’t swing a stick in Napa Valley without hitting a piece of chocolate that had been infused with wine. The proliferation of such treats was precisely why Juliet had avoided them like the plague in her own chocolates. She much preferred the challenge of creating something new and unexpected. But the restaurants George worked with wanted Cabernet truffles, so Cabernet truffles they would have.
    “Then maybe we should toast in honor of your latest creation.” George offered her a champagne flute.
    “Of course. To Cabernet Sauvignon truffles.” Juliet wasn’t altogether sure she wanted to drink to that, but she lifted her glass, anyway.
    “To Cabernet Sauvignon truffles.” George tapped his flute against hers.
    Bubbles danced on Juliet’s tongue. The champagne was perfect—light, delicate, fizzy. She shouldn’t have been surprised. George had a definite taste for the finer things in life. But she’d never glimpsed a bottle of Dom Pérignon in the limo bar before.
    During the course of the year they’d been dating, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him drink. His restraint was noteworthy, a rarity among those living in the wine country. Now here he was—popping open a bottle of Dom on the way to a formal event at a vineyard where, no doubt, the wine would be flowing.
    Those Mezzanottes drink like fish.
    The voice of her mother. Again.
    Juliet drained her glass.
    “More?” George refilled her flute without waiting for an answer.
    While he poured, she let her gaze fall on the impeccable cut of his tuxedo jacket, the black sliver of a bow tie at his neck and the tasteful silver cuff links at his wrists. He looked perfect. Like royalty, which was fitting since he was the reigning prince of Napa Valley’s gourmet scene.
    She glanced back