Their Convenient Marriage

‘You’ve mentioned America. What about the supermarkets in Britain?’

With his hand on the doorknob, Antonio paused, before turning slowly around, his dark eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

‘I hadn’t intended visiting London on this trip. But it now looks as if I may have to. I’m becoming increasingly worried about a large shipment of some of our very best wines which was dispatched to Brandon’s of Pall Mall, in England, well over a month ago.’

‘What’s the problem?’

‘I’m still not sure,’ the younger man admitted with a slight shrug. ‘For some reason, it appears to have gone missing. Needless to say I’ve been on the phone for the last two days, trying to track it down. But with absolutely no success so far.’

‘Surely a consignment that large shouldn’t be too hard to find?’

‘Which is precisely what I have been telling those English wine merchants!’ Antonio gave a short bark of sardonic laughter. ‘I know Sir Robert Brandon is an old friend of yours, Uncle, but I have to say that it looks as though his methods of doing business are still firmly rooted in the nineteenth century!’

‘You may regard Sir Robert and myself as ancient dinosaurs,’ his uncle retorted, ‘but if you do go to England it might be worth talking over your problems with him. He is, after all, one of the cleverest businessmen in the wine trade.’

‘Hmm…I’ll think about it,’ Antonio said as he turned to open the door, not overly impressed with the idea of picking the brains of his uncle’s old friend.

‘In the meantime—take care of yourself, Uncle. I should be back in my office by next Monday,’ he added with a smile, before leaving the room.

Striding swiftly down the corridor towards the front door of his uncle’s house, Antonio could only feel sorry for the elderly and infirm man, now confined to a wheelchair.

However, the brutal facts of life were that if only his uncle had resigned his position as head of the company immediately after becoming aware of his bad heart condition the family business would not now be in such a mess. Unfortunately the old man had refused to listen to his doctor’s advice, continuing to run the business his own way and only finally relinquishing control when forced to do so, after his last heart attack.

Which had meant that, instead of being able to make long-term plans for taking over the family business, Antonio had been forced to immediately abandon his highly lucrative career as an international tax lawyer in Madrid. And on his return home to Jerez he’d been faced with some fairly major problems.

The most important of which was the urgent need to bring modern organisation and technique into every corner of the business, Antonio told himself grimly as he left the house, running down the steps and across to where his sports car was parked, beneath the shade of some olive trees.

The extensive Ramirez family vineyards might produce some of the finest and most sought-after wines in the Spanish sherry trade, but his uncle had clearly never even heard of computers or the Internet. And there was virtually nothing in the way of records since his uncle had believed in handling as little paperwork as possible.

In fact, Antonio mused, drumming his fingers on the driving wheel of his car for a moment before switching on the engine, the meeting with his bankers this afternoon should, with any luck, help to solve most of his problems. Because the sooner he could start completely overhauling the family business the better!

Turning around his wheelchair, and gazing out through the open window as his nephew’s black Porsche disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust, Emilio sat buried in thought for some time.

He was well aware of just how difficult it must have been for Antonio to give up his highly successful career. Not that the younger man had ever complained, of course. But it must have been a wrench to be forced to suddenly abandon his friends, colleagues and that glamorous apartment in Madrid simply because he was the only one in the family capable of running the business.

He clearly had no way of lightening Antonio’s heavy burden, of course. But maybe…maybe there was something he could do about the financial problems facing his nephew…

While he might be stuck in this damned wheelchair there was still life in the old dog yet, Emilio told himself with a chuckle, before spinning around to pick up the phone on his desk.

‘Sí…’ he said as his call was answered at the other end of the line. ‘Señor Don Roberto…por favor…’

At approximately the same time, although many hundreds of miles away, Georgina Brandon was muttering furiously under her breath as she slammed down the phone.

She’d never got on with the manager of the company’s headquarters at Pall Mall in London. And it was just like the slimy two-faced man to try and blame Gina and her staff for his own shortcomings.

Besides, exactly why he seemed to think such a very large, valuable consignment of top-class sherry would have been sent to the Ipswich branch office, here in Suffolk, she had absolutely no idea. Surely it was far more likely to be found at their other warehouse, in Bristol? Or most probably tucked away in the vast dusty cellars in Pall Mall.

But the loss of such a valuable shipment seemed the very least of her worries at the moment. Because—while she might enjoy hearing that the head of the world-famous Bodega Ramirez had well and truly chewed the ear off that creep in London—she’d been utterly devastated to learn exactly who was now the new Chairman and Managing Director of the Ramirez company.

‘Antonio? Antonio Ramirez?’ she’d gasped down the phone, just a few moments ago.

‘Yeah. Surely you must have heard that he’d taken over the business from his old uncle Emilio?’

‘No…no, I didn’t know…’ she’d muttered, her trembling hands almost dropping the phone as she’d tried to get her head around this startling and highly alarming piece of information.

‘Well, well! Fancy clever Miss Georgina Brandon not being up with the latest news in the wine trade! I expect that’s what comes of being stuck out in the boondocks of Suffolk,’ the London manager had added with a slight laugh.

Feeling far too shattered to even try and cut the awful man down to size, she’d remained silent as he’d admitted that her grandfather was not at all happy about the situation.

‘With Antonio Ramirez well and truly on the war-path, Sir Robert says that we’ve got to find that shipment, as fast as possible. Apparently the guy is a lawyer. And you know what they’re like—never happier than when suing the socks off rich companies like your grandpa’s! So, you’d better go through all the bills of lading with a fine-tooth comb. Or it could be you for the high jump,’ he’d added with relish, before putting down the phone.

Still feeling stunned by the news of Antonio’s direct involvement in his family’s huge wine-making business, Gina took a deep breath.

It was no good sitting here at her desk in a complete daze, feeling as if she’d been suddenly hit very hard by a blow to the solar plexus, she told herself, brushing a shaky hand through her long, pale blond hair. She was really going to have to pull herself together—and try to get a firm grip on the situation.

After all…it was eight years since she’d seen hide or hair of the man with whom she’d fallen so desperately in love. But she’d been only eighteen at the time, for heaven’s sake. And young girls were always falling in and out of love, with the most unsuitable men. It happened all the time. Besides, she’d had lots of boyfriends since then. And if none of them had ever caused the slightest dent in her heart? Well, she had plenty of time in hand before she needed to start worrying about finding Mr Right!

As branch manager of a large wine merchant’s business she was used to dealing with the various fine sherries bearing the Bodega Ramirez label. So why get in such a panic just because this was the first time she’d heard any mention of Antonio’s name?

What was more…if she’d ever stopped to think about it she ought to have known that sooner or later he was bound to succeed his uncle in the business. Just as she was due, eventually, to take over her grandfather’s large, prestigious business.

Founded in 1791 by her ancestor, Captain James Brandon—who, after retiring from the navy and marrying a rich Spanish widow, had begun importing and blending high-quality sherry and wine from her family’s vineyards near Cadiz—Brandon’s of Pall Mall was now one of the oldest and most successful wine merchants in the country. Moreover, the ever-increasing value of the property owned by the family, particularly the large buildings situated in such an expensive area of London, was now enormous.

Handed down over the generations from father to son, the chain had been cruelly broken with the tragically early death of her parents in a car accident, when Gina had been only a little girl. Since her father had been an only child, she’d been raised by her grandparents, always knowing that she was the sole heiress to the family business.

Unfortunately, her increasingly desperate prayers each night—that her dear grandfather would remain at the helm for many years to come—were looking increasingly unlikely to be answered. He’d never really recovered from the death of her beloved grandmother, five years ago, and appeared to be growing more frail in body, if not in spirit, with each passing day. And she dreaded the prospect of having to take over the running of the business in the near future.

On the other hand, her grandfather had certainly done all he could to give her a good grounding in the wine trade. He’d been pleased when she had developed a good ‘nose’ and palate, and delighted when she’d passed the necessary exams to become a Master of Wine. And now, with her recent appointment as manager of the firm’s Ipswich shop and warehouse, she was in the process of gaining valuable business experience.

But there was no getting away from the fact that she was only twenty-six. And there was a world of difference between running a small branch and managing a large international corporation.

However, all that lay in the future. In the meantime she had to do her best to try and forget her past, very brief relationship with Antonio Ramirez—and start looking for his missing wine shipment!

But as it turned out that was easier said than done.

Four days later, and despite an exhaustive search of the shop, warehouse and old cellars, Gina still hadn’t found any trace of the Spanish consignment. Moreover, having checked and double-checked the current bills of lading, she’d drawn a complete blank there, as well. So, wherever the missing shipment had got to, it definitely wasn’t in Suffolk!

Unfortunately, it seemed that the news about Antonio Ramirez had prompted the return of that utterly hideous dream…the dreadful nightmare which had repeatedly plagued her late teens and made her life a misery for such a long time. For the past few days she’d found herself waking up after a disturbed, restless sleep, drenched in perspiration and trembling with deep shame and embarrassment.

Goodness knows, she’d done her best to bury those unhappy memories of when she’d obviously been far too young and innocent to understand the harsh realities of life. Which made it all the more maddening now to discover that Antonio’s dark, highly dangerous figure had only been lurking just out of sight—hidden for the past eight years, somewhere within her subconscious, so that merely the mention of his name had brought him—and total recollection of that time in her life—sharply back to the surface of her mind once again.

Which was utterly daft! She’d got over him years ago. To let herself get into such a state was totally pathetic, Gina railed at herself angrily. But, although talking sternly to herself hadn’t yet solved the problem, she knew that sooner or later the dreams would stop, and she could get back to her usual, mentally well-adjusted way of life.

All of which was sensible advice, Gina was telling herself firmly, late on Thursday morning, when the phone on her desk gave a sharp ring.

‘Hi, Grandpa… Yes, yes, everything’s fine,’ she quickly assured the old man. ‘No, I’m sorry. There’s no trace of that shipment. I’ve been through every scrap of paperwork here in the office, and I can’t find anything at all.’

‘I’m afraid that’s irrelevant now, since a representative of the Spanish firm is insisting on checking the stock in the warehouse,’ Sir Robert Brandon’s thin, reedy voice informed her.