TWENTY-SEVEN
ISABELLA
As I flitted around our family’s elegant Gramercy Park townhouse, the flurry of preparations for tonight’s wine-tasting event enveloped me. It was the first official event under the banner of WanderLand, and my stomach was a knot of excited nerves.
In the six weeks since the Mirage Guild had opened, I’d poured myself into getting WanderLand off the ground. Amidst all the business, my mom asked me to orchestrate a wine-tasting event at our family’s Gramercy Park home, a gathering aimed at bringing together the influential and dynamic women who, like her, held positions on various boards across the city. The event promised an evening brimming with the kind of energy and empowerment that only a room full of powerhouse women could generate.
The prospect of Max’s involvement in the event had stirred a complex whirl of emotions within me. On one hand, his expertise in wine was unmatched, making him the obvious choice for ensuring the event’s success. On the other, the thought of seeing him again, especially here, in the home that held memories of our past interactions, filled me with a blend of nervous anticipation and excitement.
Over the last six weeks, we had maintained the careful distance we’d agreed upon, a boundary that had not once been breached. Yet, his impending presence tonight threatened to blur those lines and reawaken feelings and tensions we had both worked hard to navigate.
Now, the house bustled with beautiful chaos. Caterers, florists, and lighting technicians streamed in and out, each contributing to the transformation of our stately home into a luxurious venue for the evening.
“Isabella, everything looks fantastic!” My mom’s voice floated down the grand staircase, her tone infused with pride and a hint of awe. I glanced up, offering my grateful smile. The house, already beautiful in its own right, was now adorned with delicate floral arrangements, soft glowing lights, and elegantly arranged tables, each element melding into a harmonious vision of sophistication and warmth.
“Thanks, Mom! I just hope everything goes smoothly,” I replied, smoothing down my blouse, a stylish silk number that struck the perfect balance between professional and chic.
As I adjusted a vase on the main table, the doorbell rang. I rushed to answer it, my heart skipping a beat. It was Max, arriving with his sommelier tools and a selection of wines cradled in his arms. Our eyes met, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to pause. The air between us was charged with an unspoken connection, a current that neither of us had yet dared to fully acknowledge.
“Hey, Max. Come on in,” I said, stepping aside to let him pass.
“Isabella. Good to see you,” he said with a smile.
“Max!” my mom called out. “So good to have you here tonight.”
Max responded with one of his gorgeous smiles. “I’m honored to be a part of tonight, Ms. Esposito.”
“The wine cellar is all ready for you,” I said, my voice betraying a hint of the fluttering in my chest. He nodded, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he stepped inside.
“Great,” he said with a smile. “Is there perhaps a table down there, large enough to hold the wine I brought?”
Heat flooded my cheeks and I cast my eyes down to avoid the smirk I knew he was delivering.
“Oh yes,” my mom replied totally oblivious to Max’s silent teasing. “It’s strong enough to hold whatever you sit on it.”
My throat hitched and I tried to mask it with a cough. I walked to the kitchen for a glass of water and Max whistled as he walked to the stairs that led down to the cellar. Tonight should be interesting.
As the evening unfolded, the house transformed under the skilled hands of various vendors, each adding a layer of elegance and ambiance to the event. The florist arrived with armfuls of fresh blooms, their sweet fragrance filling the air. Delicate roses in shades of blush and cream, intertwined with sprigs of eucalyptus and soft lavender, were artfully arranged in vases of varying heights, adding a touch of natural beauty to each table. The floral arrangements were strategically placed around the room, some on the mantelpiece, and others on side tables, creating a cohesive, garden-like feel throughout the space.
The lighting technicians worked their magic, enhancing the mood with strategically placed lighting. Lanterns filled with flickering candles were scattered around the room, casting a warm, inviting glow. In the garden, twinkle lights were strung amongst the trees and along the pathways, transforming the outdoor space into an enchanting, fairy-tale setting. The soft light from the lanterns and twinkle lights created a magical atmosphere, perfect for an evening of wine tasting and intimate conversations.
As I oversaw these final touches, a sense of satisfaction washed over me. Everything was coming together as I had envisioned. The blend of elegant florals and warm, ambient lighting created an atmosphere that was both luxurious and inviting—a perfect backdrop for Max’s wine-tasting expertise.
My attention was momentarily caught by the garden. The way the lights twinkled in the dimming light of the evening gave the space a dreamlike quality. I could already picture the guests stepping out into the garden, wineglasses in hand, enchanted by the beauty of the night.
Returning my focus to the interior, I made my way through the house, double-checking every detail. The warm glow of candle-lit lanterns added a sense of intimacy to the space. Each flicker of their flames seemed to invite guests to relax, to indulge in the sensory experiences that awaited them.
As more guests arrived, the energy in the room shifted. The blend of lively conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the soft background music created a symphony of sounds that was music to my ears. Everything was just as I had hoped—perfect, yet effortless. It was the ideal setting for an evening of exploration and enjoyment, a testament to the hard work and passion I had poured into WanderLand.
And through it all, my thoughts kept drifting back to Max. His presence added an undeniable spark to the event, his expertise and charm enhancing the entire experience. I found myself eagerly anticipating our next interaction, curious and slightly apprehensive about the chemistry growing between us, a chemistry that was both exciting and unnerving.
At one point, as I navigated through the crowd to check on the catering, our paths crossed in the narrow corridor leading to the wine cellar. We both paused, the close proximity sending a jolt of electricity through me. For a second, we were the only two people in the world, caught in a moment of intense connection.
“Everything’s going great, Izzy,” Max whispered, his voice low and husky. His gaze lingered on mine, filled with an unspoken question, an invitation to something more.
I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my throat. The air around us felt thick, charged with a tension that was both exhilarating and terrifying. I wanted to lean into him, to close the gap between us, but I hesitated, the weight of our unacknowledged feelings heavy in the air.
“Thanks, Max. You’re doing amazing,” I managed to say, stepping back to put some distance between us. The moment passed, but the lingering heat of it stayed with me as I returned to the hustle of the event.
