The next morning, Bianca’s sleep was restless, plagued by dreams of Matteo and echoes of his proposition. She awoke before dawn, the Sicilian sky still painted in shades of deep blue, and slipped into her work clothes. The vineyard was at its quietest this time of day, with only the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional call of a bird breaking the silence.

She needed clarity, and she always found it among the vines. The rows stretched endlessly before her, a reminder of her family’s perseverance. Her fingers brushed against the ripening grapes, their taut skins cool from the morning dew. These vines had been her refuge for years, grounding her when the weight of her responsibilities felt unbearable.

But Matteo’s sudden return had unsettled her, reopening wounds she thought had long since healed. His proposal wasn’t just a business opportunity—it was an invitation to upend everything she had fought to preserve. And that terrified her.

As she walked, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to see Antonio making his way down the path, his expression as serious as ever.

"Signora Rossetti," he called out, quickening his pace. "There’s someone here to see you."

"This early?" she asked, brushing dirt from her hands. Her heart sank as a possibility struck her. "It’s not—"

"It is," Antonio confirmed, his tone laced with disapproval. "The American."

Bianca sighed. Matteo’s persistence was as infuriating as it was predictable. "Tell him I’m busy."

Antonio hesitated. "I already tried, but he insisted. He’s waiting at the villa."

She muttered a curse under her breath. "Fine. I’ll handle it."

The walk back to the villa felt longer than usual, her irritation simmering with each step. When she finally stepped into the foyer, she found Matteo lounging in the same spot as the day before, a steaming cup of espresso in his hand. He looked entirely too comfortable, as though he belonged there.

"You’re persistent, I’ll give you that," Bianca said, crossing her arms. "But I told you I’d think about it. That doesn’t mean I’ve made a decision."

Matteo set the cup down and rose to his feet, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. "Good morning to you too, Bianca."

"What do you want?" she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

"To take you to breakfast," he said, a faint smile playing at his lips. "There’s a café in town I think you’d enjoy."

She blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the offer. "You want to take me to breakfast?"

"Yes," he said. "And before you accuse me of ulterior motives, I’ll admit it: I want to talk more about the proposal. But I also want to catch up. It’s been a long time, Bianca."

She hesitated. Matteo had a way of disarming her, his charm as potent as ever. But she wasn’t the naive girl he’d left behind, and she wouldn’t let him distract her from what mattered.

"One hour," she said finally, grabbing her keys from the table. "That’s all you get."

Matteo’s smile widened. "Fair enough."

The café was nestled in a quiet corner of town, its outdoor terrace shaded by flowering vines. Bianca chose a table far from the other patrons, determined to keep their conversation as private as possible. Matteo ordered for both of them, speaking fluent Italian with the ease of someone who had never left Sicily.

"You haven’t lost your touch," she remarked as the waiter walked away.

"I never forget what matters," he said, his gaze lingering on her.

She ignored the flutter in her chest and focused on her coffee. "So, what’s so urgent that you had to show up at dawn?"

"I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday," Matteo began, leaning forward. "You’re right to be protective of your family’s legacy. But Bianca, this isn’t just about business. It’s about securing the future of this vineyard."

She raised an eyebrow. "And you think partnering with you is the only way to do that?"

"Not the only way," he admitted. "But the best way. I’ve seen what’s happening in the wine industry, Bianca. Smaller vineyards are being swallowed up by corporations. If you don’t expand, you’re at risk."

His words struck a nerve, though she refused to show it. She had heard the same warnings from others, but hearing them from Matteo made them feel more real.

"And what do you get out of this?" she asked, her tone skeptical.

"A chance to work with someone I trust," he said simply. "Someone who understands the value of tradition."

Bianca studied him, searching for any hint of deception. But Matteo’s expression was earnest, his eyes steady. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe he was sincere.

"I’ll think about it," she said finally. "But I’m not making any promises."

"That’s all I ask," Matteo said, raising his cup in a toast. "To possibilities."

She clinked her cup against his, her mind still racing. Matteo’s return had thrown her life into chaos, but part of her couldn’t deny the allure of his vision. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the storm he brought might be exactly what the vineyard needed.