The harvest festival at Villa d’Oro was in full swing, but Maria had no interest in the revelry. She was here for the blind tasting competition—a chance to prove her palate was sharper than anyone else’s. But when she arrived at the check-in desk, the clerk gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, signora, but there’s been a mistake. We only have one room left.”

Maria’s jaw tightened. “I reserved a single room three weeks ago.”

The clerk shrugged. “The festival is busier than expected. The only option is a suite with two beds. You’ll have to share.”

Before she could argue, a familiar voice cut through the lobby. “Don’t tell me you’re my roommate.”

She turned to see Leo, her rival from the competition circuit. He was tall, with dark hair that fell just over his brow and a knowing smirk that never seemed to leave his face. They’d clashed over vintages and tasting notes for years, and the tension between them was as sharp as a Cabernet’s tannins.

Maria: “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Leo: “Believe me, I’m not thrilled either. But unless you want to sleep in the vineyard, we’re stuck with each other.”

The room was small but elegant: two beds separated by a nightstand, a window overlooking the moonlit rows of vines, and a single bathroom. Maria dropped her bag on the bed nearest the door, already regretting every decision that had led her here.

Maria: “Fine. But we keep this professional. No games.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, that smirk still in place. “Professional? You’re the one who always makes it personal.”

She ignored him, pulling out a bottle from her bag—a Barolo she’d been saving for the competition. She set it on the nightstand as a promise to herself: she’d win tomorrow, and then she’d never have to see him again.