Secrets of Bella Terra
Christina Dodd
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Teaser chapter
NOVELS BY CHRISTINA DODD
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF THE CHOSEN ONES
Chains of Fire
“The best of the series so far . . . unique—and edge-of-seat thrilling.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“The urgency of the plot ratchets up the emotional drama, giving the story an exhilarating edge.”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
Chains of Ice
“High-stakes action and high-adrenaline adventure provide the literary fuel for the latest addictive addition to Dodd’s scorchingly sensual the Chosen Ones series.”
—Chicago Tribune
Storm of Shadows
“Christina Dodd has a knack for tense, heart-pounding action with a dash of quirky humor.”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
“A well-rounded cast, an exciting story line, and a romance that’s as sweet as it is steamy. This book offers something for everyone who enjoys paranormal romance and is a must read for fans of the series.”
—Darque Reviews
“A riveting new series. . . . The action and romance are hot! I have no idea what is next in this series, but . . . the suspense is killing me.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Fabulous urban romantic fantasy . . . a stupendous thriller.”
—Midwest Book Review
Storm of Visions
“The taut, suspenseful plot, intriguing characters, and a smooth, natural style show that Dodd has earned her place on the best-seller list.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Ms. Dodd plunges readers into a fast-paced tale with intriguing paranormal elements and treats them to a deliciously steamy romance that’s sure to grab the reader’s attention . . . suspenseful, packed with danger-filled action, and never slows as the story unfolds.”
—Darque Reviews
“Definitely hooked me . . . quirky, unusual, fun, tense, surprising, sexy, and wild!”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
FURTHER PRAISE FOR CHRISTINA DODD’S NOVELS
In Bed with the Duke
“In bestselling Dodd’s triumphant return to historical romance, she offers all of the elements her fans crave: deliciously clever writing, sexy romance, and a swashbuckling plot worthy of The Prisoner of Zenda.”
—Booklist (starred review)
Into the Flame
“Alluring and intriguing.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Sizzling sensuality and dark emotions. A book by Dodd is always worth reading, but here’s hoping she ventures into the paranormal again.”
—Romantic Times
“[A]n explosive page-turner.”
—Eye on Romance
“Once again Christina Dodd weaves her spell . . . real and sexy . . . full of suspense and adventure.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“[A] stunning tale of love, of sin and redemption, of exciting adventure.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Into the Shadow
“Ms. Dodd has once again created an amazing novel.”
—Eye on Romance
“Another stellar book from a most talented author!”
—Romantic Times
“I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat . . . a gorgeous book.”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
“Sexy and . . . darkly appealing.”
—Rendezvous
Thigh High
“Offbeat characters and undeniable charm . . . a joy to experience!”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars, top pick)
“[C]harming and likable characters . . . an enjoyable read.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Christina Dodd is a master. . . . Thigh High is a winner I highly recommend.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“A MASTER ROMANTIC STORYTELLER.”
—Kristin Hannah
Touch of Darkness
“A sweeping saga of good and evil . . . this latest promises to be one of her best to date.”
—Library Journal
“Enthralling, intense.”
—The State (Columbia, SC)
“Christina Dodd demonstrates why she is such a popular writer, in any genre. . . . Readers will be riveted until the final page.”
—A Romance Review
Scent of Darkness
“The first in a devilishly clever, scintillatingly sexy new paranormal series by Christina Dodd.”
—Chicago Tribune
“[A] satisfying series kickoff . . . [a] fast-paced, well-written paranormal with a full, engaging mythology and a handful of memorable characters.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Multigenre genius Dodd dives headfirst into the paranormal realm with . . . a scintillating and superb novel!”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars, top pick)
. . . AND HER OTHER NOVELS
“Dodd delivers a high-octane, blow-out finale . . . . This romantic suspense novel is a delicious concoction that readers will be hard-pressed not to consume in one gulp.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Warm characterizations and [a] caperlike plot make Dodd’s hot contemporary romance a delight, and the cliff-hanger ending will leave readers eager for the sequel.”
—Booklist
“Dodd adds humor, sizzling sensuality, and a cast of truly delightful secondary characters to produce a story that will not disappoint.”
—Library Journal
“Sexy and witty, daring and delightful.”
—Teresa Medeiros, New York Times bestselling author of
After Midnight
NOVELS BY CHRISTINA DODD
Danger in a Red Dress
Thigh High
Tongue in Chic
Trouble in High Heels
In Bed with the Duke
Taken by the Prince
THE DARKNESS CHOSEN SERIES
Scent of Darkness
Touch of Darkness
Into the Shadow
Into the Flame
THE CHOSEN ONES SERIES
Storm of Visions
Storm of Shadows
Chains of Ice
Chains of Fire
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, August 2011
Copyright © Christina Dodd, 2011
Excerpt from Strom of Visions copyright © Christina Dodd, 2009
All rights reserved
SIGNET SELECT and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
ISBN : 978-1-101-54331-3
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
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Thank you to the family and staff at Seghesio Family Vineyards for their kindness and patience as I asked questions and stuck my nose into the operations at the winery and vineyards, for guiding me through tastings and most of all for teaching me that “fruit forward with a spicy finish” is not as risqué as it sounds.
A special thank-you to Rachel Ann Seghesio for graciously sharing your stories and histories, and giving me a sense of the family and community that I tried to infuse into the Scarlet Deception series.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Leslie Gelbman, Kara Welsh, and Kerry Donovan, my appreciation for your constant support. More appreciation to NAL’s art department led by Anthony Ramondo. To Rick Pascocello, head of marketing, and the publicity department with my special people, Craig Burke and Jodi Rosoff, thank you. My thanks to the production department and, of course, a special thank-you to the spectacular Penguin sales department: Norman Lidofsky, Don Redpath, Sharon Gamboa, Don Rieck, and Trish Weyenberg. You are the best!
Prologue
With the precision of a surgeon, he sank the screw into the aged cork, curling it around and around; his experience had taught him to go so far and no farther. Then, working meticulously, he eased the cork out of the plain green glass bottle.
Like so many things in life, these matters took planning and attention to detail; anything worth having was worth waiting for.
This was worth waiting for.
Although in this case, he had waited almost too long. . . . He was robust, yes, but not a young man. Still, at last, victory was in his grasp. And the victory, he now knew, would be so much more than he’d ever anticipated.
The wet end of the cork was dyed almost black and when he sniffed it, his nose wrinkled in dismay. This bottle on which he’d spent so much time and money was probably like all the rest he had collected throughout the years—so far past its prime as to be undrinkable. Yet tenderly he poured a few sips into the bottom of the stemmed glass and raised it to the light.
He had hoped to see a rich plum color; instead it was a faded, muddy red.
He swirled the wine in the glass, lifted it to his nose, and sniffed.
Not good. Not good at all. There should be fruit and spice. Instead there was cork taint and vinegar.
Still he persisted, filling his glass, sipping the wine, and rolling it across his tongue.
He shuddered at the taste; his eyes filled with disappointed tears.
Yes, people feared him. Yes, people tiptoed around him. Yes, rumors of treachery swirled around him. But really, he had the heart of an artist, and this . . . this setback almost broke that heart.
Another bottle, so rare as to be legendary, and it was spoiled by age and neglect. With great care, he poured the wine down the drain, watching as the liquid stained the white porcelain a reddish brown.
The phone rang, his second line . . . his secret line. He looked at the caller ID with distaste, but answered it anyway.
“Hey! Listen. There’s news I thought you should hear.” Ah, that voice. Brash, confident, a little too loud, like a cheap wine in a handsome bottle.
Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “Tell me.”
“Flores got shot dead.”
“Interesting.” His voice rasped.
“He’s out of the picture.”
“Interesting,” he repeated.
“That’s what happens when you go out of town for your talent.”
“Interesting,” he said again, but what he meant was, Insolent.
“You want me to take over now?”
He played with the cork, crumbling it between his fingers, watching as the old wine and tannins stained his fingers purple and black. And he thought.
He’d never seen his caller. No need. He knew the type, and he knew the details on this specific tool: ambitious, cruel, easily led with money and flattery. Perfect, if not for the prison time—but that was served in a foreign country under an alias, and, should it become necessary, was easily expunged.
At the silence, the tool’s confidence slipped. “I can do it. I promise. I don’t have to move into place. I’m right here on top of the action. You might as well take advantage of that. C’mon. C’mon. Give me a chance.”
There was so much at stake here. His family’s honor, stained as his fingers. And, of course, the promise of wealth that put his current fortune to shame.
He made his decision, and whispered, “Same terms.”
“Yes! Good! I like the terms.”
“Punishment for failure.”
For the first time the tool paused. “Punishment? What kind of punishment?”
“Punishment,” he whispered again.
“Okay. Okay, sure. I’ll do it. No need to worry about punishment. I can do it. When do you want me to start?”
“Now.” He drew the word out, caressing each sound with his husky whisper.
Then he hung up.
He got out a clean glass, pulled out another bottle of wine, and tried again.
Chapter 1
Bella Valley, California
As Sarah Di Luca drove along the winding road out of town and back to the home ranch, she heard the whisper of new leaves struggling to be born from the grapevines. The wind that blew through her
open window smelled like fresh-turned earth and sunshine on newly mown grass, and the cool air slid around her neck like a luxurious fur. The rows of vivid green vegetation made her smile; another year, another spring, another day. At her age, all of that carried a weight and a joy nothing else could ever replace.
She pulled up to the house, the hundred-ten-year-old homestead that stood on a rise at the far end of Bella Valley, and climbed out of her Ford Mustang convertible. She’d bought the car new in 1967. The official color was “playboy pink”; her grandsons called it “titty pink.” She laughed, figured boys would be boys, and drove more slowly every year. Reflexes, you know.
Old age was not for sissies.
She and her sisters-in-law said that every time they spoke on the phone. If only it weren’t so true.
She put her purse over one arm, fished her grocery bags out of the passenger seat, and looked up the stairs at the wide, white-painted front porch. The treads were narrow and steep, not up to the current building codes, but when the house was built, there were no codes, only tough immigrants carving out places in the heat of California’s central valleys. This house, with its tall ceilings, narrow windows, ornate trim, and root cellar, had been the epitome of the stylish farmhouse.
