The Villa

your performances are unacceptable, you will be shifted back to a lesser position. Those terms will be negotiable at that time and in that eventuality."
    As she spoke she slid two thick contracts from the files. "Ty, you will remain in residence at MacMillan, the house and its contents will continue to be available for your use. Sophia, you will be required to move here. Your apartment in San Francisco will be maintained by Giambelli during this year, for your use when you're required to do business in the city. Ty, when you're required to do business there, accommodations will be provided. Travel to other destinations for the company will, of course, be arranged and paid for by the company. The castello in Italy is available to either of you, whether your travel there is business, pleasure or a combination of both."
    She glanced up, smiled. "So far, not so bad, right? Now the carrot. If at the end of this contract year, Sophia, your performance is acceptable, you will receive twenty percent of the company, one-half interest in the castello and the title of co-president. Reciprocally, Tyler, should your performance be acceptable, you will receive a like twenty percent, full interest of the house where you now reside and the tide of co-president. You will both be offered ten acres of vineyards, to develop your own label if you wish, or the market value thereof should you prefer."
    She paused, and added the final weight. "Pilar receives twenty percent as well, if she agrees with her own contract terms. This gives like shares to everyone. In the event of Eli's or Tereza's death, their respective share passes, spouse to spouse. On that unhappy day when neither of them are with us, their forty-percent share will be disbursed as follows: Fifteen percent to each of you, and ten percent to Pilar. This will give each of you, in time, thirty-five percent of one of the biggest wine companies in the world. All you have to do to earn it is adhere to the contract stipulations during this year."
    Sophia waited until she was certain she could speak, and kept her hands tightly gripped together in her lap. She was being offered more than she'd ever imagined or would have asked for. And was being slapped down like a child at the same time. "Who decides on the acceptability of our performances?"
    "In the interest of fairness," Tereza said, "you will rate each other on a monthly basis. Eli and I will also give you performance evaluations, and these will be added to the evaluations generated by the COO."
    "Who the hell is COO?" Tyler demanded.
    "His name is David Cutter. Recently of Le Coeur, and based in New York. He'll be here tomorrow." Tereza got to her feet. "We'll leave you to read your contracts, to discuss, to consider." She smiled warmly. "Helen? Coffee?"
     
    Rene refused to budge. There was one thing she'd learned in her modeling career, during her brief stint as an actress and in her lifelong social climb. The only right direction to move is up.
    She'd tolerate the old woman's insults, the estranged wife's distress and the daughter's killing glares as long as it meant winning.
    Despising them didn't stop her from tolerating them, as long as it was necessary.
    She had the diamond on her finger, one she'd selected personally, and intended the wedding band to follow quickly. Tony was her entree into the world of the ridiculously rich, and she was sincerely fond of him. Nearly as fond as she was of the idea of the Giambelli fortune.
    She'd make certain he did whatever was necessary in the next year to solidify his position with Giambelli, and she intended to do so as his wife.
    "Tell her now," she ordered and picked up her coffee cup.
    "Rene, darling." Tony moved his shoulders. He could already feel the weight of the shackles. "This is a very awkward time."
    "You've had seven years to deal with this, Tony. Get it done, and get it done now." She sent a significant look toward Pilar. "Or I will."
    "All right, all right." He patted her hand. He preferred awkward to ugly. With a pleasant smile on his face, he got to his feet and crossed over to where Pilar sat trying to calm a mildly distressed and obviously confused Francesca.
    "Pilar, could I have a word with you? A private word."
    A dozen excuses ran through her head. She was, in her mother's absence, hostess. The room was full of guests. Her aunt needed her attention. She should order more coffee.
    But they were only that, excuses, and would do nothing but postpone what had to be