Chapter-34 Progress

Gianna

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was… restrained. Like he was holding back a storm with every ounce of control he had left. His hand slid to the back of my neck, anchoring me to him, and I let him. I wanted to be anchored. The world fell away, everything else blurring except for the way he tasted—like something forbidden and unforgettable.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered over mine for a second longer, as if he wasn’t ready to let go. Then his forehead touched mine, and I heard it—the breath he let out. Quiet. Shaky. Almost like regret.

“I don’t want to be too much…” Nico breathed. “Tell me if I…” I placed my finger on his lips before tracing my thumb over them.

“No,” I whispered. “Still not enough.” He inhaled deeply, his eyes already undressing me.

“Good,” he nodded, his voice like rich, dark bourbon. “Because I’m all for pushing limits, Gianna. And I am going to…” My throat went dry, a thrill running down my spine.

“I have a question,” I said, eager to divert this conversation for now. “Why here? Why bring me to this place?”

Nico stared blankly at me. He looked a bit lost, but then he shook his head once. And that mask I’d seen a thousand times slipping back into place, even as his thumb brushed my cheek once more. Lingering. Heavy with something he wouldn’t name.

“Let’s go. Dinner is ready to be served,” he said. And I knew the conversation was dismissed right there.

We walked in silence, the light crunch of gravel under our shoes being the only sound. The vineyard stretched around us in quiet rows, the sun now completely gone, replaced by a sky full of stars. Up ahead, nestled between the vines, a soft golden glow appeared—strings of warm lights suspended between wooden beams, swaying gently in the breeze.

The clearing opened into a small patio, nothing extravagant. A simple wooden table set for two stood at the center, surrounded by lanterns casting flickering light over the stone path. From here, the view rolled out into the hills beyond, dark and endless, beneath the night sky glittered with millions of stars.

“You set this up?” I asked, my eyes wide. He just shrugged.

I looked around, taking in the quiet charm of the setup. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” Nico agreed, pulling out my chair and gesturing for me to sit.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, his voice low, and for some reason it sounded like something else. “The caretaker’s wife, Renata, made dinner. She insists on feeding guests like they’re royalty.”

“I think I already love her,” I said, taking in the spread—roasted vegetables, handmade pasta, fresh bread, and something that smelled like slow-cooked lamb. “This looks amazing.”

“I’ll tell Renata you approved,” he said with a hint of a smile in his voice as he reached for a small wooden crate beside the table and pulled out a bottle. “This is ours. One of our best, aged eight years. We only make a few barrels of this blend.” He poured a deep red into both glasses, then handed one to me.

“Thanks,” I murmured and then took a tentative sip, letting the bold, rich flavor settle on my tongue.

My eyes widened. “This is incredible.” Nico nodded, looking pleased.

“We export across Europe, sometimes to the States. But most of it stays here,” he said, taking a sip himself.

“So… do you manage the winemaking too?” I asked.

“Not all of it. But I oversee the operations. I don’t like leaving things in the wrong hands.” I nodded, unsure if he meant the wine or something else. With Nico, everything felt layered.

“It’s kind of fascinating,” I said. “The whole process. I’ve never really thought about how much goes into something like this.”

“It takes time,” he said simply. “Years of it. You can’t rush anything if you want it to last.”

“That’s true,” I said, meeting his gaze. I wish he would understand that this applied to relationships, too. That we can take it slow and let it brew.

After a pause, he added, “Once we’re done eating, I’ll take you to the winery. It’s not far. We can walk.” Something in me lit up, even if I kept my expression careful.

“I would love that,” I smiled, regardless. And for once, the silence between us didn’t feel empty.

The dinner was much different than it was last time. Nico wasn’t overly articulate, but he talked about this wine business, the people who worked here and just random things. It wasn’t the most stimulating conversation, but still, I listened and added my two cents when I could. Because it felt like Nico could do with someone to listen to him. The food was indeed delicious, and we did finish all of it.

“Thank Renata on my behalf…everything was delicious,” I said as we walked through the vineyard. Nico was holding my hand since it was kind of dark, and the ground was uneven, and I was wearing heels. I tripped twice already.

“I am glad you liked it,” he said. I gazed up at him, and for once, he looked a tad relaxed. Maybe now that he knew I wasn’t holding onto the love he can’t give me, it freed him in some shape or form? The thought wasn’t appealing, but I knew where this was coming from.

We reached the winery not long after. It sat low against the hillside, a rustic stone building wrapped in ivy and shadows. Inside, the scent of aged oak and fermented grapes wrapped around us the moment we stepped through the heavy wooden doors.

Barrels lined the walls—rows upon rows of them—some stacked, some resting on metal racks. There were machines too, all humming in quiet stillness for the night. Nico flicked on a switch, casting a low golden glow across the space.

“This is where it all happens,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet pride I rarely heard.

He showed me the steel fermenters, the press, and the bottling station. I listened as he explained how each wine had its own unique process, how timing and temperature could ruin everything if one wasn’t paying attention. He talked more than usual, and I watched him, noting the slight animation in his features, the way his fingers lingered over a barrel. I didn’t interrupt much—just small nods, questions where they made sense. I liked hearing him like this.

Once we stepped out, the night air felt cooler, the wind brushing past hinting at rain.

“Thank you,” I said. “For showing me around.”

“Shall we go back?” he asked, his dark eyes filled with the promise of what’s to come. “It’s getting cold now.”

The look in his eyes…it made everything south of my belly clench with anticipation and desire. I knew this night was going to be a long one…and I wanted it.

“Yes,” I breathed, taking his outstretched hand.

We started walking. The lights from the winery faded behind us as we made our way back through the vineyard trail. I tucked closer to him instinctively. It was getting colder, and the clouds above looked heavier now.

Then, just as we rounded a row of vines, a drop hit my cheek. Then another.

“Fuck,” Nico grimaced.

“Oh no,” I groaned, looking up. “Not now.”

Within seconds, the drizzle picked up into a soft, steady rain. I gasped as the water soaked through my dress, already clinging to my skin. “Nico, I— I get really sick in the rain. Like, actual fever, throat infection, the whole package.”

He frowned, glancing around. “The cottage’s still too far.” Another drop hit my nose, and I wiped it quickly, suppressing a shiver.

“There’s a barn nearby,” he said, already tugging me along. “Come on.”

And then we ran. Or as much as I could in heels.

He kept a firm grip on my hand as we darted through the rows, dodging low branches and puddles forming underfoot. By the time we reached the barn, we were nearly soaked. My skirt clung to my thighs, and Nico’s shirt was dark and damp, outlining the sharp planes of his chest.

He pushed the door open, guiding me inside with a hand at my lower back. The barn was empty save for a few tools, some crates, and the faint scent of hay. The roof at least held strong, shielding us from the rain. The downpour now echoed on the tin above, steady and relentless.

Breathing hard, I leaned against a wooden beam and ran a hand through my damp hair.

“Well,” I panted, half-laughing, “that was fun.”

Nico didn’t respond.

He just stared at me. I was dripping wet, shivering slightly, hair sticking to my cheeks.

His eyes were unreadable. Intense.

Rain clung to him, soaking into his shirt, dripping from his jaw as he stepped closer, brushing wet hair from my face, his knuckles grazing my skin. His touch was gentle as his gaze dropped to my lips, then lower. His chest rose and fell, slow, measured, his full lips parting.

“Now what?” I breathed, the sound of my heavy breathing echoing through the silence in the air. He stepped in, hand curling around the back of my neck, drawing me closer.

“Now I am going to ruin you…cara mia.”