Silent Flyght – Chapter 11

I wasn’t sure what to wear for dinner, but it appears I chose wisely with a sweater, relaxed pants, and a pair of flats.

“Try this,” Mat signs then reaches across the kitchen’s steel island to fill up my wineglass. “This is my favorite vintage.”

I ignore the people bustling around us, cooking our upcoming dinner. Water boils on the stove, a flash of fire in a pan of tomatoes, the sizzle of fish in a butter sauce — my mouth waters and my head swims with hunger. The last thing I ate today was Lia’s excellent breakfast burrito.

Once he’s done filling up my glass, I hold out my hand. “Can I see the bottle?”

He nods as he hands the bottle over to me. I read the label and hum. “I know this vintage. We had it on a recent trip to Laguna.”

I smell the wine first, placing my whole nose in the glass, before taking a generous sip. I don’t need to be cautious because I already love it.

“Mmm. Delicious.” Swirling the wine around in the glass, I watch the way it clings to the sides. “I love the taste of this one, like fresh apples and springtime.”

I catch a sneaky smile on his face as he turns to put the bottle into the fridge. He tamed his curls today like he took extra time to get them to lie just right on his head. His shirt is pressed, and his slacks hug all his assets just so. I lean to the side to admire him while his back is turned. Hell, this was the right choice, Marcelo.

Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Vivian.

The other guys are counting on me to buy back the farm, and I can’t do that without one more suitor. They want the farm now, almost as badly as I do. Jinzo is looking for a permanent home. Ken wants to diversify his assets. Gus wants a place for our kids to grow up. Mat could be a part of all of that too.

“You have a discerning palate,” Mat signs, and I hear his voice in my head. It’s not so much his voice as a voice I associate with him, deep and dark. It came to me naturally after only a few conversations. But this happened to me too working on the farm with our few mute employees. I always associated a voice in my head with them. “Have you had many of our red wines?”

“I don’t think I have.” I take another sip of the white wine and relish it. “Though the opportunity to drink alcohol and enjoy it doesn’t come around that often. We’re on the go a lot, and that makes it hard to keep a well-stocked bar.”

My fingers fumble over the words, so I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let it all out.

“Sorry. I’m a little tired. I spent all day going over my finances and moving money around in all my accounts. Lag is a bit of a problem when you’re in the Californikos System and all your banks are in the Brazilianos System.” I roll my eyes. “Too many time zones to keep track of.”

Not to mention the crap night of sleep I got after I spent hours going over everything Ai and Marcelo had on Mat. I did nothing but toss and turn for hours on end.

“If you’re tired, we can postpone to another night —”

I hold up my hand to stop him. “I’m never not tired. We should keep our date.”

He smiles at my use of ‘date’ and gestures for me to enter the dining room off the kitchen. A small, six-person table is laid out for the two of us, candles lit, and a bread basket between the two settings. Mat pulls out my chair for me, so I’m careful to sit down and not knock anything over. That would definitely be something I would do.

He grabs a carafe of red wine on the table, smells it, and nods. Filling up our glasses, he keeps his eyes down.

Once he’s back in his seat, he signs, “This is a blend I’ve been working on that I hope you’ll like. It needed time to breathe, so I decanted it an hour ago.” He raises his glass, and his eyebrows draw up, indicating I should also raise my glass.

Since the wine glass occupies his hands, I take the initiative. “To new relationships.”

He twists his lips to the side, but he touches his wine glass to mine and sips.

“So, we should talk about what we both expect out of a relationship,” he begins.

I’m ready to play ball.

“Yes, let’s talk, but I would like to ask a question first. You say you don’t want to poison the well?” He nods. “But, I think someone from your own world would be a better match for you.”

He breaks some bread from the bread basket and adds it to his plate before handing it to me.

“That may be so, but I have tried in the past to woo women here and always ended up the disappointed one. Sonoma women are interested in owning land here like they can on other worlds. Since men own over eighty-five percent of the land on Sonoma, it becomes a bone of contention in relationships.”

His face loses all its cheer.

“Tell me, what happened with you and Cassidy?”

His lips fall into a frown, but I hold my wine glass and wait.

Cassidy was the last woman he dated, almost five years ago. They had been together for three years, one of his longest relationships, and she had wanted to add him to her network. Then they broke up.

He hesitates as he brings his hands up. “She asked for a commitment I wasn’t ready for. She wanted half my land for a spot in her network.”

I gasp. “That’s pretty ballsy.”

“That was Cassidy.”

I sip my wine even as I feel my face start to burn with an alcohol flush.

“And that was quite a while ago. What’s changed between then and now?”

His eyes shift, and he stares at the candle. “A lot of things.” His hands are slow and close to his chest.

I wait while he decides what he’ll say.

“I suspect my life will be shorter than I anticipated,” he starts. “My parents didn’t survive the NV virus, but I did and lost my voice. It also damaged my heart. Cassidy… She wanted me and the vineyard, but she didn’t want to give me kids, even after speaking with my doctor about my genes.”

The word on the street was that Mat and Cassidy had gone their separate ways because her network was mature, and she didn’t want to add to it. Nothing in the public gossip channels spoke to what really happened between them.

“It’s a problem that NV people have. We appear ‘damaged’ like Vir men, but it’s not like that at all.”

“I know,” I whisper. I hold my breath, hoping he’ll continue.

“A virus that had its origins with the Vir gene attacked me, but it didn’t alter me… I mean, it didn’t alter me in ways that matter.” His hands thump his chest, an angry gesture.

He doesn’t want pity from me, and I’m not going to give it to him. He leads a great life, and I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse. But being denied an heir when you have so much to offer is a hard pill to swallow.

The door to the kitchen opens, and dinner arrives at the table. A fillet of white fish, braised in butter, sits atop a fresh tomato sauce, and a generous portion of linguine. Just like Hera Lee, everyone loves to serve me pasta. I am not complaining.

“Fish and red wine? Isn’t that some kind of sin?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

“Tomatoes,” he signs, his eyes faraway. “Tomatoes make all the difference. And there’s the same wine in the sauce. We should eat.”

After the server has shredded a decent amount of cheese onto my pasta, I think about my next move.

“So, Cassidy didn’t work out. I get it.” I spear some fish with my fork, pop it in my mouth, and let it melt across my tongue. Oh my, can we just marry now and skip the rest? If this chef cooked for me every day, I’d die happy.

Mat’s chest jumps with silent laughter. “I guess you like it.”

I sip the wine and nod my approval. “Oh, yes. This is excellent, and the perfect combination. I should’ve known you’d pick the right wine.”

He slices his fish and thinks for a moment as I twirl the linguine on my fork. From the corner of my eye, I catch him setting his fork and knife down to sign.

“Cassidy didn’t work out, and neither did Isidora.” His stare is penetrating. I swallow my mouthful of food and wash it down with a generous swig of wine.

“Yes, I did finally look you up. I had my AI comb the duonet for anything she could find on you, and then I looked over Marcelo’s report too when I was done. I should have read it sooner. I apologize.”

He pulls back in surprise and finishes off what’s on his fork. “No need to apologize. I understood why you did what you did. There’s a lot of thrill that comes from first dates and getting to know someone.”

I dig into my meal further, chew, and swallow before stopping to smile. “You know, there are candles on the table, sultry eyes over the tops of wine glasses, and the kind of respect that I only see from lovers nowadays. You’re really laying it on thick.” I wink at him.

His shoulders shake in laughter again, matching his eyes.

“I know I only have a day or two with you, at most.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

He sets down his own fork and knife, careful not to break eye contact.

“Are you willing to give me more time? Marcelo said you need to be on Palo Alto soon.”

“I could, possibly, spare a day or two.” I really can’t, actually. I’m on a deadline, but something tells me I should be more flexible. I should allow this man to show me what he’s made of. “I mean, I don’t expect every man I meet to fall for me at first sight.” I laugh, and his smile deepens. “Far from. But Marcelo is the best of the best. He finds the perfect matches.”

“Marcelo kept at me, even when I was ambivalent about trying my hand at this again. I didn’t want to go through another relationship only for it to fall to pieces at the end.”

Trying his hand at romance again. He’s been burned in the past, and he wants to stay under the radar, too. In that respect, I’m not the best match for him.

“Marcelo works hard to do his job, to serve the men he calls on, and to find the right partners for me. He knows that I’m young and” — my voice breaks — “that I’ve lived a lot of my life under the thumb of my parents, without any kind of friendly or romantic love.” Maybe I shouldn’t drink more wine, but I grab the glass and gulp anyway. “I had a loving relationship, and it was all thrown in the trash to save a family business I would lose eventually.”

Now he can’t look at me any longer.

“You have the files. You know what I’ve been through. I deserve to have men in my network who want to be with me just like you deserve to have the same treatment as any other man.”

We stare at each other over the table, and I try to read him. His eyes tell me he’s intrigued and sad.

“You’re right.” The signs come slowly. “You do deserve to have men in your network who want to be with you. And I’m… I’ve reached a crossroads where what I want and what I can have are two separate things.” He picks up his fork again and signals to me that I should as well. I reel another bite of linguine onto my fork and eat, waiting for him to push on with the conversation.

When he doesn’t continue, though, I pick up his train of thought. “What makes you think you can’t have both? Maybe you just haven’t found the right woman yet. And what makes you think I’m a better candidate than Cassidy or Isidora?”

He stops chewing and makes direct eye contact with me.

“Ah. It’s because I already have land, or could have my land back?” When he says nothing, I continue. “Right. Well, it does make a lot of sense. If I get my farm back, it’ll be something we could both benefit from.”

I set my fork down and sit back in my chair.

“If?” he asks.

“Yes, if.” I shrug and try not to show my unending worry. “There are a lot of things that could go wrong between now and the auction, which is only about two weeks away.” I wince at this. “Time is not on my side, and I don’t have all the funds I need to bid.”

Mat’s demeanor has cooled significantly.

“Sorry,” I say, pushing my meal to the side. “Talk of money isn’t the most romantic thing in the world.”

“No, it’s fine. We should talk about it. If I were in danger of losing this place, I would do everything I could to keep it. Or get it back. Do you know how much you need?” he asks before reaching for his wine glass.

“I do.” I swallow and wonder what he’ll think of this. “More than a million credits.”

When he doesn’t respond, I turn and look out the window at his beautiful vineyard. So many people would give anything for a place like this. I draw in a sharp breath at my memories of those boys I left in Gai Reis’s apartment. What about them? Will they have a future at that academy they’re going to? Will they find love and a life there?

I have no idea.

“What’s the matter?” Mat asks, after waving to catch my attention.

“Nothing. I was just thinking of something else.”

Looking down at my dinner, I realize I’ve left half of it on the plate while Mat has finished all of his. Typical. Even when I’m excited about a meal, I lose my appetite talking about heavy topics. The chef enters the dining room, and I dip my eyes, wishing I was anyplace else other than here.

“Was the meal not to your liking, Ms. Kawabata?” He stands ready at the table with a man I recognize as Mat’s chief of staff, Peter. I read a small bit about him too last night.

“It was delicious. I’m so sorry I didn’t eat more. I —”

Mat knocks his knuckles on the table. “It’s my fault. Unfortunately, I’m not the best conversation maker, and I upset Ms. Kawabata.” He looks at me. “Would you like something else?”

I shake my head, unable to make the words come out of my mouth.

Mat makes eye contact with Peter, and they share a silent word. I know they’re using USL, even with my head dropped.

I said I was willing to endure some humiliation for this — having to ask for money is the worst — but being in the moment, I’m not a fan. The chef whisks the plates away, and I hold back a sigh. Another meal ruined. Another time I’ll end up in my room hungry or wake up shaky tomorrow morning because I didn’t eat enough the day before.

“Let’s take the wine and sit outside.” Mat stands up and pulls my chair out. We grab our wine glasses, and I follow him out to the stone patio. A fire burns in the central fire pit, sending up sparks and warming the surrounding seats. Mat sits down and gestures for me to sit next to him. I have a brief vision of him happy, laughing, picking me up around the waist, and spinning me around. Is that our future?

I slip onto the couch and draw my sweater tight around me.

“Are you cold?” he signs. He stands up, opens a chest on the opposite side of the fire, and returns with a blanket.

“Thanks.”

We sit and sip the wine, staring into the fire, and I wonder about how we proceed from here.

“Mat, tell me about your childhood, how you came to own this land and run this vineyard.”

He smiles. “You still want to know about me?” His hands are slow, testing me.

I nod and encourage him to share his story. I know some of his past, but I want to hear it all. I’m tired, but I suck in a long breath to open my eyes and pay attention to his hands.

Mat built the vineyard up from nothing after the previous owners who both fell into ill health late in life and neglected it. He has no family, no brothers or sisters. The NV virus killed both of his parents, and he was an only child. The government raised him in an orphanage, and he worked on this vineyard as an apprentice when he was young. He loved being here, and over time, the owner began to care for him and wanted to help educate Mat. They became powerful friends, and since the vineyard owner didn’t have kids of his own, he handed the estate off to Mat once he was eighteen. Mat inherited everything and changed his name to Aravena.

He’s made a life for himself without family, without connections, without having to rely on anyone.

I can’t help but feel sickened and privileged after hearing his story. My parents were just going to hand me my inheritance without too much fuss and bother. Sure, I worked hard to be ready to take over the farm, but it was nothing compared to growing up in an orphanage and having deceased parents.

When he finishes his story, he picks up the wine bottle and fills both of our glasses in silence.

This man is the opposite of what I’ve been looking for in a network partner, and yet he’s my best bet. He doesn’t have a family pulling his strings; he’s independent. The decisions he makes are his and his alone. I don’t have to woo mothers or dodge ex-girlfriends.

But then I remember his words from the previous day. He used the sign ‘dangerous.’ There was no mistaking it. I’m a danger to him… somehow. And now that I delve into that a little deeper, I know why. I’m dangerous because I could end up just like the other women who want him for his land. And because I’m always on OEN (ugh), it would be disastrous for him if our relationship were to be made public.

Mat’s hand on my arm brings me out of my unfocused daze. I blink my eyes away from the fire to face him.

“I’m sorry about the long history lesson. I’m sure you can understand why I want you to hear everything before we continue.”

I draw up my legs under the blanket, cross them, and lay my head down on the back of the upholstered couch. “It’s fine. Thanks for trusting me with everything.”

“It’s not the way I like to entertain my guests. I’ll have to make it up to you.”

“I think I know how you can make it up to me.” I turn on my sultry voice, and it works. His eyes darken, and his chest shudders with rapid breaths.

“Anything,” he signs.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, and you can give me a tour, show me how this place runs.”

“You want the full tour?” His scrunched eyebrows tell me he’s skeptical.

“Absolutely. Believe it or not, it’s always been my secret desire to own a winery and vineyard. I love wine, and learning more about it is something I’ve dreamed about.”

He pulls back, his face settling into a frown. Oh no. That was the wrong thing to say. Yep. He’s worried about women falling for him just for his vineyard.

“But now, your farm is your main focus?” he asks, and I hold my breath for a moment before answering.

“If we were to ‘connect,’ this would always be your place, your home, your life. I would never claim it as my own if you didn’t want me to. My farm means everything to me, which is why I’m working so hard to get it back.” I nod, letting the wine and the fire relax me. “I am really interested in winemaking, though. I hope you’ll humor me and allow me the tour.”

“Of course.” He softens a little, but the worry for him is still there. I must convince him I’m interested in him, first and foremost.

He turns to look at the fire. I study his profile, his strong chin and the slope of his nose like the side of a ski mountain.

My eyes droop, the wine and food catching up to me.

“If I fall asleep,” I mumble, “just call Jinzo to come to get me. It’s his night.”

He takes my wine glass and sets it aside. Drawing up the blanket over my shoulders, he tucks it in around me. A light tapping on my shoulder convinces my eyes to open.

“I will.” He draws his index finger over my cheek, a light, delicate touch. “You surprise me, Vivian. You should demand more from men, not less.”

I let my eyes fall closed and melt into the comfort of a warm blanket and the crackle of a roaring fire.