The roar of her car swallowed everything else—the wind, the distant hum of the city, even the restless thoughts that had chased her all morning. Lesley kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, fingers firm around the steering wheel, though her grip loosened every so often when her gaze drifted.
She had said she wouldn't come.
She had meant it, too—at least at the time. But something about that conversation in the garden, the way Alexandra looked at her, the way Sam didn't let anything slide… it lingered. It stayed. And somewhere along the drive, it turned into something she couldn't ignore anymore.
Denisse.
Lesley exhaled, long and quiet.
For a brief moment, her eyes flicked to the passenger seat.
The red roses rested there, vivid against the dark leather, their petals soft and impossibly alive. She reached over at a stop, brushing her fingers lightly against them, careful, almost absentminded.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
She could already imagine it—Denisse's reaction. The slight widening of her eyes, the way her smile would slowly form, warm and unguarded. The way she'd probably tease her for being dramatic, even while holding the flowers like they meant something more.
Lesley let out a soft huff.
Then she pressed harder on the accelerator.
The engine responded instantly, the car surging forward as the road stretched open ahead of her. She didn't bother holding back this time.
She wanted to see her.
—
Meanwhile, at Luneclair Moonlight vineyard, the air carried a different rhythm—slower, steadier, grounded in the quiet work of the land. Rows of grapevines stretched endlessly under the late morning sun, their leaves rustling softly with each passing breeze. The scent of ripening fruit hung in the air, sweet and earthy.
Denisse moved carefully between the rows, a basket hooked over her arm as she inspected each cluster with practiced ease. Her fingers worked quickly but gently, selecting only the ripest grapes, dropping them into the basket with soft, rhythmic taps.
"Hey, John, please bring the remaining three baskets to the winery building," Denisse called, glancing over her shoulder.
"Yes, ma'am," John replied, already moving.
Soon, she was left with the other pickers, the quiet companionship settling naturally between them.
"We are so glad you came home, Ms. Denisse," Leah said, her hands still busy as she worked along the vine.
Denisse smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Well, I am glad too, Leah," she admitted. "But it's just… sad that I was so busy at work that it took Mom getting sick for me to finally come home."
Leah shook her head gently. "Now that you're here, ma'am, she'll recover fast."
A few of the others nodded in agreement.
"She really missed you, Ms. Denisse," one of the pickers added.
Denisse's expression softened. "I missed her too," she said quietly. Then, with a small lift in her tone, "And all of you guys."
She reached up, plucking a grape from a nearby cluster and popping it into her mouth. "And of course, our grapes too."
A ripple of laughter moved through the group, light and easy.
But it didn't last long.
The sound came suddenly—a loud, unmistakable roar cutting through the calm of the vineyard. It didn't belong there. It was too sharp, too powerful against the gentle hush of the fields.
Everyone stilled.
Denisse's hand paused mid-motion, her heart giving a sudden, uneven thud. Slowly, she turned toward the direction of the entrance.
The car came into view, sleek and familiar as it rolled to a stop.
Her breath caught.
No way.
The engine quieted, leaving a faint ringing silence in its wake. For a moment, nothing moved but the leaves stirring in the warm air.
The driver's door opened.
And then Lesley stepped out.
Denisse blinked, her thoughts scrambling to catch up. What is she even doing here? The question barely had time to settle before something else rose to meet it, softer and far more disarming. Excitement. A flicker of happiness she hadn't been expecting. Just like that, the long morning didn't feel quite so heavy anymore.
She didn't call out.
Instead, Denisse slipped through a narrow gate along the vineyard fence, one easy to miss unless you knew it was there. Keeping to the cover of the vines, she followed the edge of the property until she reached the front entrance, where Lesley's parked car shielded her from view.
Ahead, Lesley stood just outside the gate, turning slowly in place, her gaze flicking from the signboard to her phone and back again as if the two refused to agree. She looked out of place and completely absorbed, too focused to notice anything behind her.
Denisse reached the back of the car and paused, a small, amused smile forming. Up close, she could see the slight furrow in Lesley's brow, the way she shifted her weight as if debating whether to leave or stay.
Quietly, Denisse leaned in just enough for her voice to carry.
"Are you lost, baby girl?" she called as she walked closer, her tone teasing but warm.
Lesley turned sharply at the sound of her voice. The uncertainty vanished in an instant, replaced by something brighter. "Denisse." Her face lit up, relief softening her features.
Denisse stopped a step away, slipping her hands into her pockets. "Hi. What are you doing here?"
Lesley hesitated, then lifted a hand and pointed toward the vineyard sign. "Are you—?"
"Yup," Denisse cut in, her smile widening just slightly.
Lesley blinked, processing. "Wait. You're telling me your family owns this place? The Luneclair Moonlight vineyard?"
Denisse gave a small nod, clearly amused by the disbelief spreading across Lesley's face.
"What?" Lesley let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "So that means the wine—the Luneclair Moonlight—"
Denisse's eyes dropped to the bouquet in Lesley's hands before she could finish. "Are those roses for me?" she asked, tilting her head. "Didn't peg you as the sweet type, Ms. Ashford."
Caught off guard, Lesley quickly moved the flowers behind her back, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Changing the subject? I think I know why."
Denisse's expression didn't falter. "Seeing your enemy and getting a chance at revenge… can you really blame me?"
"Well," Lesley said, her voice lighter now, "you've got me there."
There was a brief pause, filled only by the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of insects. Denisse studied her, the teasing edge softening.
Then she remembered that day at the vineyard with startling clarity, as if the memory had been waiting for the right moment to rise.
It had been after a seminar in a nearby town, one of those long, draining corporate events that left her shoulders stiff and her mind buzzing with numbers and negotiations. Since she was already close to home, she decided—on impulse—to visit.
The cab rolled along the countryside roads, tires crunching over gravel as endless rows of vineyards stretched beneath the late afternoon sun. The golden light washed over the fields, warm and familiar, and for the first time in weeks, Denisse felt herself relax.
She pulled out her phone and called her brother.
Drake answered on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Don't tell Mom and Dad I'm coming," Denisse said, leaning back against the seat with a smile. "I want to surprise them."
A laugh came through the line.
"You're lucky they're not home right now."
Denisse frowned. "Where are they?"
"At Aunt Marie's. Something about paperwork. They'll be back in the evening."
Perfect.
"Good. I'll be there in twenty."
"Did you bring what I asked for?"
Denisse rolled her eyes, already knowing.
"The cake?"
"The cake."
She laughed softly. "Yes, Drake. I bought your stupid cake."
"That's why you're my favorite sibling."
"I'm your only sibling."
"Exactly."
Denisse shook her head, smiling as she ended the call.
The rest of the ride passed quietly.
The moment the vineyard came into view, her chest tightened with warmth.
Home.
Rows upon rows of grapevines stretched across the land, green leaves shimmering under sunlight, the scent of earth and ripened fruit drifting through the open cab window.
It had been months since she'd been back.
Too long.
Work in the city had swallowed her whole, filling her days with deadlines and meetings until home became something distant—something she only thought about in the quiet hours.
The cab rolled up the long driveway and stopped in front of the house tucked inside the vineyard estate.
Before she could even fully step out, the front door swung open.
"Denisse!"
She barely had time to grin before Drake was already jogging toward her.
"Drakey!"
She laughed as she threw her arms around him.
God, she missed him.
Drake pulled back, hands on her shoulders, inspecting her dramatically.
"You look exhausted."
"You look annoying."
He smirked. "I missed my mortal enemy."
Denisse snorted.
"I missed you too."
Drake's eyes dropped immediately to her bag.
"Where's my cake?"
Denisse stared at him.
"That's your first concern?"
"Obviously."
Shaking her head, she reached into the paper bag and handed him the small cake box.
"There. I carried it all the way here."
Drake's eyes lit up.
"Wow. I love you."
Denisse narrowed her eyes.
"So if I didn't bring cake, you wouldn't?"
Drake considered it.
"…Depends."
Denisse slapped his arm, and he laughed.
Before she could retaliate further, the sharp roar of an engine sliced through the peaceful afternoon.
Both of them turned.
A sleek black Lamborghini pulled into the driveway, its polished body gleaming like liquid obsidian under the sun.
Drake's eyes practically sparkled. "Oh, she's here again."
Denisse glanced at him. "She?"
Drake folded his arms, clearly impressed.
"That gorgeous businesswoman Mom and Dad have been talking to. She wants a wine supply deal for her restaurant."
Denisse hummed absently, but Drake was still staring at the car like it was a divine being.
"And why are you this excited?" she asked, amused. "Do you have a crush?"
Drake scoffed.
"On her? No."
Denisse raised a brow.
"The car, though…" Drake exhaled like a man witnessing art. "Lamborghini Aventador SVJ. Nero Noctis black. Six-point-five-liter V12. Seven hundred seventy horsepower. Zero to a hundred in under three seconds."
Denisse blinked.
He kept going.
"Limited production. Carbon fiber body. Insane aerodynamics."
She held up a hand.
"Alright, enough."
Drake frowned.
"What?"
"You forget I know absolutely nothing about sports cars."
"It's not just a sports car."
"It's still a car."
Drake looked personally offended.
Denisse laughed. "Well, graduate with honors and maybe I'll buy you one."
His eyes widened. "You're serious?"
"Do your best and find out."
Before Drake could start celebrating, one of the vineyard helpers approached them.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Denisse."
Denisse turned toward her with a polite smile. "Good afternoon."
The helper looked mildly surprised to see her there. "I didn't know you were coming home, Miss."
"It was unplanned," Denisse explained lightly.
The woman hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
"The client your parents are supposed to meet with has already arrived."
Drake clicked his tongue softly. "But Mom and Dad still aren't back yet."
Then he looked at Denisse.
"You should handle it."
Denisse blinked at him. "Me?"
Drake gave an easy shrug. "Well, it's your business too."
The helper nodded. "Ms. Ashford is waiting near the entrance, Miss."
Denisse frowned slightly and glanced toward the driveway. "Wait… who?"
"Ms. Ashford," the helper repeated simply.
Denisse stilled.
Ashford.
Restaurant.
Lamborghini.
Her mind connected the pieces so quickly it made her stomach drop.
No.
Surely not—
She stepped away from the porch, careful and quiet, until she could peer past the vines toward the entrance.
And there she was.
Lesley Ashford.
Her NEW boss.
Standing beside that black Lamborghini in fitted slacks and a crisp white blouse, sunglasses perched on her face like she owned the sun itself.
Denisse stared.
Of all people.
Then.
A slow smile curved against her mouth.
Well.
Wasn't this interesting.
Memories of Lesley's ruthless demands resurfaced—the impossible workload, the impossible standards, and that infuriating coffee stunt that still made her jaw tighten whenever she thought about it.
And suddenly, this felt less like coincidence.
It felt like opportunity.
Denisse turned to the helper, her voice calm—too calm.
"Tell her my parents aren't here yet."
The helper nodded obediently, then hesitated.
"And, Miss?"
Denisse glanced once more toward the vineyard entrance, where Lesley stood in pristine clothes and polished shoes, far too clean for the dirt beneath her feet.
Her smile sharpened.
"If she wants to prove she's serious about the deal," Denisse said, folding her arms over her chest, "she can start by earning it."
The helper frowned slightly.
Denisse tilted her head toward the vineyard.
"Grape-picking. The wine process. The whole thing."
The woman blinked.
"Miss... you want the client to work?"
Denisse let out a quiet hum, almost amused.
"She wants our wine, doesn't she?"
Her gaze stayed fixed on Lesley, cold satisfaction settling in her chest.
"Then she should understand what it costs to make it."
A pause.
"And don't mention my name."
The helper hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes, Ms. Denisse."
As the woman walked away, Denisse watched from the side of the house, anticipation curling warmly inside her.
A revenge handed to me this easily?
Her smile deepened.
Enjoy the labor, Ms. Ashford.
Minutes later, after catching up with Drake and settling back inside the house, Denisse wandered toward the window with a glass of cold juice in hand.
Outside, the vineyard stretched endlessly beneath the warm glow of the sinking sun, rows of vines washed in deep gold and amber.
And there—
Lesley.
Still working.
A quiet laugh nearly escaped Denisse.
Lesley's once-pristine blouse now had its sleeves rolled unevenly to her elbows, a few loose strands of hair escaping her usually polished appearance. Faint purple stains marked her fingers from the grapes.
A basket rested against her hip as she moved through the rows.
Slower now.
Heavier.
Clearly struggling.
But still going.
Denisse leaned lightly against the window frame, taking a slow sip from her drink as she watched her.
Stubborn.
One of the vineyard helpers happened to pass nearby and immediately noticed her standing there.
"Oh, Miss Den—"
Denisse lifted a finger to her lips, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Shh."
The helper immediately lowered her voice and stepped closer.
Denisse glanced back toward the vineyard. "How is she doing?"
The woman followed her gaze and let out a small, nervous laugh. "Honestly, Miss… she's struggling."
Denisse's eyes stayed fixed on Lesley outside.
"But?"
"But she hasn't complained once."
Outside, Lesley adjusted the basket against her hip again, her jaw tightening slightly with the effort. The fading sunlight caught faintly against the sheen of sweat along her skin, but she kept moving forward anyway.
Persistent.
Denisse dismissed the helper with a small nod, though her eyes remained fixed on Lesley a moment longer than necessary.
Hours later, with evening settling over the vineyard, Denisse's satisfaction had dulled into something quieter.
She had made her point.
That should be enough.
She called another helper over.
"Tell the client we can't finalize anything today."
The helper nodded.
"Tell her she'll have to come back another time when my parents are available."
A cruel ending to wasted labor.
Petty.
Effective.
From the window, Denisse watched the message get delivered.
Lesley stood very still.
Even from a distance, Denisse could see it—that rigid set of her shoulders, the dangerous calm.
She was angry.
Furious, probably.
But true to form, Lesley didn't let it show.
Denisse smirked to herself.
How's that for revenge, Ms. Ashford?
Then the sound of distant chatter from the grape pickers pulled her from the memory, dragging her back to the present.
"Are you mad?" she asked.
Lesley crossed her arms, though the gesture lacked any real bite. "You made me pick grapes and do labors for hours—"
The rest of her complaint disappeared as Denisse closed the distance and kissed her.
It was sudden, but not careless. There was intention in it, a quiet apology wrapped in warmth. Lesley froze for half a heartbeat, surprised, then melted into it just as quickly, her hand instinctively catching the front of Denisse's shirt.
When they pulled apart, the air between them felt different—lighter, charged.
"I hope that makes up for my little revenge," Denisse murmured, her voice softer now.
Lesley's eyes lingered on hers, a slow smile forming. "I think I'm going to need more than that."
Denisse huffed a quiet laugh, her confidence returning. "You'll get it. Just wait." She gave a quick wink.
"I'll be expecting it."
The moment stretched, comfortable and unspoken, until the sharp ring of a phone broke through it. Denisse glanced down, pulling it from her pocket.
"It's my mom," she said, answering quickly. "Mom? … Okay, we'll be there." She hung up and looked back at Lesley. "Lunch is ready. Come eat with us."
Lesley nodded, then paused. "Wait—hold on." She turned toward the car, pulled open the passenger-side door, and reached inside. When she came back, she held a small basket in one hand.
"So, these are for you." She brought the roses forward at last, offering them with a hint of shyness that hadn't been there before. "And this is for your mom."
Denisse took the flowers, her fingers brushing lightly against Lesley's. She glanced at the basket, noticing the oranges nestled inside, and smiled. "She's going to love that. She really loves oranges."
"Good," Lesley said, visibly pleased.
They fell into step beside each other, walking through the vineyard. The rows of vines stretched endlessly around them, leaves whispering softly in the breeze. Just ahead, an estate house stood bathed in warm sunlight, only a short distance away.
As they walked, their shoulders brushed now and then, neither of them pulling away. The earlier tension had dissolved into something quieter, steadier—something that lingered in the space between their steps.