Chelsea Bright has always played her part perfectly: the glamorous noblewoman, the social butterfly, the dutiful daughter.

But after a series of empty parties and hollow promises, she craves something real, something that doesn’t require her to hide who she truly is—a painter at heart, longing for love and passion.

Just when her world seems to be heading down a predictable path, a life-changing accident catapults her into Alexandre Travers’s vineyard, and her heart is set aflame.

Alexandre Travers is determined to prove himself.

Half-French and fully committed to modernizing his late father’s vineyard, he’s on the verge of a major breakthrough that could secure his legacy.

The last thing he needs is a beautiful but troublesome blonde crashing into his fields—literally.

Yet, as he saves Chelsea from the flames and she finds herself drawn to his world of vineyards and hard-won dreams, sparks fly, and both must decide if love can blossom among the vines.

With autumn’s harvest, family expectations, and the pressures of two very different lives, can Chelsea and Alexandre find common ground—or are they destined to remain worlds apart?

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Chelsea Bright flipped her long blonde hair back, adjusted her large, designer sunglasses over her face and strutted onto the lawn of Bei Giardini manor for her nephew’s baptism party—chic in a pink sheath with matching pink jacket. Any man here would be lucky to have her.

The fact that the Earl of Sky had ever been on her list of potential husbands made her pause as she saw how Remington Burke doted on her sister, Cassidy, and their son, Cristian.

Cassidy seemed at ease among the family and visiting royalty present for the reception and had flourished in her duties during the past year. Chelsea took a champagne glass from a passing waiter and tried to calm her racing heart.

No more delaying the inevitable. No more painting to express herself. She needed to get married and support her parents so all of them fit in with the royals of Avce.

In Paris last month, her mother had pointed out that they were living on borrowed time thanks to her sister’s match, but it was now up to Chelsea to ensure the Brights had a future.

She’d not let anyone down.

Scanning the party, Chelsea didn’t see any single, eligible rich men of consequence. Cassidy waved her over to where she stood with her baby boy, both of them dressed all in white. “Chelsea, there you are. Come take a family picture with us.”

Chelsea, her freedom about to be cut short, had lost herself in painting all morning. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Her sweet, smart older sister was lucky, too. Chelsea saw that now. Cassidy had married her best friend who happened to be one of the richest men in the country. Chelsea put her champagne glass, untouched, down at the family table and headed over for a photo where someone snapped their picture.

Despite the bright sun overhead in the sky, the afternoon was almost over, and she’d missed most of the party. Her sister hugged her with one arm, the other holding baby Cristian on her hip, and for a brief second, Chelsea wished they could really talk.

However, Remington, dressed in suit and tie, turned Cassidy to shake hands with the Queen, who was saying her goodbyes.

Chelsea kept her head bowed until the Queen left.

Cassidy nudged her. “Will you stay and have a good time, sis?”

“I just wanted to say congratulations, but I have another obligation.” Chelsea adjusted her sun glasses.

Cassidy bounced the baby in her hands. “Mom tells me you all are headed back to Paris tomorrow.”

“It’s time to do my part.” Duc Astorre Manfredi was her mom’s favorite bachelor in Avce, and it was past time she set out to meet the man who would likely be her husband.

Cassidy pursed her lips, clearly holding her opinion to herself, which Chelsea appreciated.

Chelsea glanced at the outdoor spread of white tables and white chairs with tasteful flower centerpieces in Avce’s royal colors. The royal family drank champagne and visited with her brother-in-law, like they were old friends. Everywhere royals and nobility of Avce picnicked in celebration of one of the newest members of society, her pink-cheeked nephew. Chestnut curls like his mom, and his dad’s brown eyes, Cristian was already one of the richest men in Europe, despite being less than a month old. “He’s adorable. Can I hold him?” She held her arms out for the happy baby.

“Of course.” Cassidy handed him over. “You are his godmother.”

Right. Her sister actually thought she’d be a good replacement for her? Impossible. Cristian smelled like baby powder and felt like warm sweetness in her arms. Her sister and brother-in-law clearly made beautiful children, and holding Cristian brought an ache to her own heart.

She’d probably never a baby of her own, not if she married her mother’s choice. Children were unnecessary, and her sister’s belief in true love wasn’t possible even if she now profited from her beliefs. Cassidy’s computer program to find true love for the nobles of Avce had gained international recognition and people were willing to pay top dollar. Now that Cassidy was a countess and she’d opened her online business, her money troubles were over.

Her sister had no idea that their father had lost the money he’d gotten for Cassidy’s marriage to Remington and he refused to talk to Cassidy and Remington about bailing him out of a jam. This was why their mother was now pushing her to charm the Duc Astorre Manfredi, Duc of Modena, into marriage.

Cristian cooed in her arms. Maybe after she married, in the off chance she had a baby, she’d finally fill the emptiness in her soul. The baby’s sweet cooing was almost as beautiful a sound to her as the feeling she had when she visually expressed her version of beauty on a canvas.

After Paris, she’d make some time to paint her godson before he got too much older. Her heart filled with his brightness and made her happy, but she gave him back to her sister. “I have to go, sis.”

“Hot date?” Cassidy asked. “I know the single nobles of Avce were all too busy to come today so I assume there is some big event.”

“You know me,” Chelsea said with a wink. “The life of a party.” She sashayed off like she always did aware that she sounded stupid.

No one said goodbye to her as she went around the conversing guests to the patio door and through the house to leave.

Her older black Mercedes sparkled, newly waxed to look perfect for tonight’s party shone from the lights that just turned on. Near the door, the Duke of Oakley kissed his wife as they waited for their car. Cassidy’s program had matched the couple who seemed truly in love.

In another life, Chelsea might have believed that love existed but in her current state it didn’t matter. She’d kiss a frog, hold her nose and just get over herself.

Dreams had never been worth even a penny. Her mother hadn’t pushed her own paintings and instead when they weren’t nobles, she’d helped their father with his advertising campaigns. Cassidy valued hard work as the means to financial success. So Chelsea understood that her own paintings weren’t worth much to anyone except her.

The valet brought her car around and she got in, the sun setting behind her, making her sister’s estate shine like gold in the mirror behind her. Going from light to dark, she drove toward the notorious Matteo Korbel—home to the Count of Golchin. Her spirits sank but she kept her head up—she’d promised to make an appearance.

Music pierced the air as she made the last turn toward the house. She tugged off the fitted suit jacket she’d worn to the reception to reveal her properly inappropriate low-cut pink dress.

She pulled up in front of the mansion and put the car in park. With a fluff to her straight hair, she stepped out of the car and tossed the keys to the waiting valet.

Instantly her gaze locked on the Marchese of Normanni, Stefano Durnovo. He had one heel on a Roman column as he smoked his cigarette, but he tossed it the second she joined him at the front door. “You look sweet enough to eat tonight, Chelsea.”

“I’m not on the menu.” He was the closest male friend she had but no way could they get married. He went through women like desserts to sample at a buffet. “I can totally ask my sister who your true love might be, so stop ogling.” She rolled her eyes and peeked into the party going on, hoping she’d find someone she’d overlooked, so she didn’t have to run off to Paris.

He made a kissing sound with his lips, so she turned toward him. “You’re the one putting them out there on display for me and every other guy to notice, Chels.”

If only she was attracted to Stefano. But honestly, he was too handsome, and he’d never be faithful to any woman. He wasn’t born to commit. He and Matteo, the owner of the house, had always known where to find trouble. While her sister had been the good girl, Chelsea preferred to spend her time with those who didn’t care about anything but blowing their inheritances, not that she had one to blow.

Stefano pushed off the column and together they walked into the mansion that hosted the nightlife of Avce’s rebellious young nobles.

Chelsea heard Olivia’s sultry laugh at the bar where she sat with two men on either side of her. One shook a silver cocktail shaker and topped off her glass while she teased the other with an olive on a toothpick, rubbing it across his lower lip. At boarding school, the only girl who hadn’t bothered with any of this was Sheena, as she valued her art and intended to be taken seriously as an artist. Chelsea stayed close friends with her, wishing she was that determined, but more often, she spent her weekends with Olivia and these people.

And once again, everyone played their parts and Olivia did her stupid trick of tying the cherry stem in a knot in her mouth.

Chelsea kept walking past the dance floor and finally saw Matteo, with his arms wrapped around some redhead who was so white, she’d burn in the Avce sun. Or she’d burn up Matteo’s mattress tonight. She wouldn’t interrupt his clear plans for the evening to ask if anyone new was here.

She glanced behind her to where she’d left Stefano. Some dark-haired woman with rather large breasts had stopped Stefano from joining her, but that was fine. Good for Stefano—unfortunately, the invited men seemed to be guys she knew.

A waiter in black offered a tray of shots in chilled glasses. She chose one and sipped. Vodka—always Matteo’s drink of choice. Wine seemed too tame a drink for this type of party, but Chelsea found the vodka too sour.

Olivia laughed from the bar as one of the men refilled her glass—again.

This was her life. These were her people. She glanced around the room. Matteo kissed the red-head and would soon take her to one of his bedrooms. She’d painted half of these people already in one way or the other as dark creatures longing for something more.

Not that anyone would ever see her paintings.

Not that she wanted them to. The last thing she needed was their opinions about how she saw them, but the truth was, she no longer needed to rebel. Before she was a noble, she’d gone to elementary school in California where her friends had all been different than this crowd she surrounded herself with now. Part of her wished to return to Cali and just start over again.

She took a tiny sip of her sour vodka and her arms ached as she remembered holding Cristian—he’d been so sweet. Good was supposed to be in this world too and not just these mindless games where people didn’t matter.

Her heart pounded a warning that she no longer belonged here. Chelsea put her glass down on a table and decided to leave.

Tonight was her last night before she transformed herself into whatever this Duc Astorre Manfredi, Duc of Modena, wanted her to be. She’d figure that out once she actually met him. She could play any part.

But for now, it was best to go. She kept her shoulders high, smiled and made her way out the door. Stefano was too busy with the new woman to say goodbye, not that it mattered.

The valet hadn’t even moved her car yet. Perfect. She slipped him her last five euros and took her keys back.

As she turned on her ignition, she realized no one even noticed her departure which was probably for the best. But it felt empty too, just like when she’d left her sister’s party.

Her parents would be at her sister’s for hours still, and the night was young. Chelsea needed to remember Cristian’s coo in her arms, and the emptiness her friends made her feel. Tonight, she’d find a way to express that in a painting no one would ever see.

Perhaps then she’d find a way to let whatever bothered her go. Life wasn’t supposed to be empty like it was now. At least not hers. Somehow, she’d have to fix whatever was wrong with her.

Chelsea’s easel and paints waited in her hidden studio, in a part of the mansion that hadn’t been repaired. She prayed that the emptiness inside wasn’t part of her soul forever. Was she one of the lost that she was about to paint?