Chapter Text
In Vino Veritas: A Nessian Story
“In wine lies the truth”
Chapter One: Cheval
Nesta Archeron had worked hard to get to where she was. She’d helped raise her sisters before putting herself through college and law school, and as a young associate she’d stayed at the office long after her contemporaries gone home. As a reward for her sacrifices—and the success they’d awarded her—Nesta always treated herself to the best of everything. She wore the best clothes, dined at the best restaurants, and—of course—drank the best wine.
That’s why she only ever bought from Merchant of Vino. Sure, it was a stupid name, but she’d done her research, and it was undoubtedly the best wine vendor in the Bay Area. They sold all her favorite Napa reds, and the owner was a man named Devlon who knew his stuff and never tried to look down her blouse.
Nesta was a person who thrived on routine—on ritual—and going to Merchant had become one of her favorites since arriving in San Francisco the previous year.
That was, until the day said ritual was disrupted.
It had started out like normal: she got out of court in the early afternoon and battled traffic to North Beach, already considering what she would order. She hadn’t bought Spring Mountain in a while, and after the day opposing counsel had given her, she was in the mood for something thorny.
The quaint little bell dinged when she stepped inside, and she took a minute to admire the familiar racks before glancing to the bar...
She frowned.
“You’re not Devlon,” she said in greeting, and the man behind the counter—who looked to be in his late twenties— glanced up from the where he’d been shelving bottles and laughed.
“Very astute; I’m not.”
She crossed her arms across her chest. She didn’t like to be teased. She felt a stab of annoyance when he reached up to shelve a final bottle and she caught a glimpse of his ridged stomach and the making of an Adonis belt, visible above the waistband of his low-slung Jeans. She especially didn’t like being teased by attractive men. As an attorney, she got enough of that in her day job.
“I’ve never seen anyone else work here,” she clarified.
She didn’t bother to sound polite, but if her tone bothered the stranger,he didn’t show it.
He only shrugged, gesturing she take a seat in one of the well-loved leather barstools before leaning his forearms on the counter. They were as corded as the rest of him, and covered with what she recognized as Māori tattoos.
“Then I guess it’s your lucky day: I know more about wine than Dev could hope to learn in ten lifetimes.”
When she only responded by pursing her lips, the stranger’s grin widened. Nesta fought not to admire him as leaned a fraction closer.
With long hair tied back in a bun at his crown and heavy gold hoops in his ears, he was nothing like the clean cut and classically-handsome guys she usually went for. Still, she couldn’t deny he was rather devastating.
He was tall and broad, his powerful chest and tapered waist cutting an inherently masculine silhouette which—much to her chagrin—Nesta couldn’t help admiring.
His bronze skin and glossy dark hair spoke to the island heritage his tattoos had already hinted at, and his eyes…
Nesta didn’t want to dwell on how much green they had running through the ribbons of hazel, or how they glittered as they continued to study her.
She sniffed and glanced down to adjust the watch at her wrist, if only to escape the fact she’d been checking him out, hard.
“That’s a rather lofty assessment,” she said finally.
He shrugged.
“It’s true.”
“Jury’s still out,” she shot back.
He gave a throaty laugh, taking the opportunity to look her up and down. However, it wasn’t in the leering way she’d grown accustomed to, as if she were a cut of expensive meat. He seemed to be taking her measure instead. From the way he smiled—teeth diamond bright against his full lips—it was clear he’d been satisfied by what he’d found.
“Challenge accepted. I’m more than happy to blow your mind, free of charge.”
She snorted, ignoring the potential double meaning. This felt dangerously like flirting, and if there was one thing Nesta Archeron never did, it was flirt.
“You really think I’m that easy?”
His grin widened, and she rolled her eyes. Okay, fine, she’d walked into that one. Still, she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, and everything about this guy seemed to suggest he’d be a worthy opponent.
“Okay, maestro,” she said, setting her bag down and finally taking a seat. “If you’re so smart, pour me a glass of something you think I’ll like.”
He considered, biting his annoyingly-plush lower lip as he surveyed her again. It was more openly appreciative this time, but still never strayed below her chin.
“What do I get if I guess correctly?”
She gave him a deadpan look, the kind her male colleagues had suggested could melt flesh from bone.
“A tip.”
He bubbled his lips in dismissal.
“Woman, I don’t work here for the tips. I’d rather have your name.”
She considered, hating how much she was enjoying this. It had been ages since she’d had a decent sparring partner.
“Fine,” she said. “But know that if you’re wrong, I’m not giving you either.”
He only laughed before grabbing three glasses from where they hung on the rack and lining them up on the bar top between them.
“I’ll take my chances.“
He glanced back at her, drumming his fingers against his lips as he considered. He then pulled out three bottles, a white and two reds. When he’d poured a taste in the first two glasses and two fingers-worth in the third, she frowned.
“This is cheating.”
He only laughed again, eyes alight beneath his devilishly arched brows. They made him look dangerous in a way Nesta refused to admit suited him.
“Trust the process,” he said, gesturing to the glass of white.
“Now, this is what you think I think you like: Rombauer Chardonnay out of the Napa valley. Aged in French oak with notes of vanilla and an earthy, buttery finish. Too rich to make a good sipping wine, but still an inexplicable go-to choice for mansplainers trying to impress their female friends.”
He paused to give her a roguish smile, which she rewarded with a shrug. He was right; she hated buttery chardonnays, but it was still what men always assumed she’d want.
He swished the the Rombauer before swallowing the small measure in the glass and moving to the next, a plum-colored red.
“This is what you think you want: Nickel and Nickel Cabernet. It’s complex and beguiling and just the kind of fleshy, bold California red a power broker like yourself is conditioned to love.”
She ignored the jab and picked up the glass, bringing it to her nose. She was greeted with the smell of dark berries and cassis, and it made her mouth water.
“You should have quit while you were ahead,” she said, throwing back the small measure and letting the taste envelop her palate. “Far Niente is one of my favorite vineyards.”
He just smirked, gesturing to third glass.
“Not so fast, because this is what you actually want. Chateau Cheval Blance from the St-Émilion appellation in France. A light structure, perfect in its tension between floral and mineral notes. Truly, this is terroir at its finest.”
She gave him a tight smile.
“I’m not a Old World wine person,” she said, pushing the empty Cabernet glass towards him in silent request he refill it. “Better luck next time on the tip.”
He responded by pushing the French blend towards her instead.
“Humor me.”
She pursed her lips before picking up the glass. She could smell dark cherries and wood smoke, and something floral that she couldn’t place but that was all the more tantalizing for its elusiveness.
Begrudgingly she took a sip, and it was an effort not to let her eyes roll back in her head. It was silky, but not in the cloying way that Chardonnays sometimes were, and the flavor seemed to blossom, sweet plum giving way to dark berries and something earthy that had her toes curling in her expensive Louboutin heels. Truly, she wasn’t sure she’d ever tasted anything so divine.
He studied her reaction before flashing a wicked smile and leaning in.
“So what’s your name, Gorgeous?”
Struggling to compose herself, she hastily set down the glass.
“I have a boyfriend,” she snapped.
The man seemed undaunted by her declaration though, and if he noticed her sudden unease, he didn’t comment. Instead, he re-filled her glass before pouring one for himself.
“I have no doubt,” he said, touching his glass to hers so the crystal sang. “But that isn’t what I asked.”
She watched him as he took a sip, his throat working as he swallowed. Good Lord, he was handsome.
She mentally slapped herself. She had a boyfriend, and perfect taste in wine aside, she shouldn’t be indulging this stranger in whatever game he thought he was playing. Tomás would be furious if he found out.
This in mind, she settled for scowling.
The stranger laughed.
“It’s not like it matters,” he said, twirling the stem of his glass between long fingers. “Unless you’re a drug dealer who plans to pay cash for the case of Cheval of you are so obviously going to be buying, I’m going to see it on your card anyway. Besides, no one likes an oath breaker.”
She took another sip of wine to hide her smile. They weren’t flirting, she assured herself. They were just...talking. Talking was perfectly innocent. Tomas couldn’t get angry at her for talking.
The man waited, and eventually she relented.
“Nesta.”
“Nesta...?” He prompted, and she rolled her eyes.
“Nesta Archeron.”
He extended a hand.
“Cash.”
“Please tell me that’s a nickname.”
He only laughed in response.
“Are you always this charming, Nesta Archeron?”
His hand remained between them, and after a beat of hesitation she took it. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm the minute they touched, and she found herself fending off a flush as she tugged her hand back. Still, they remained close. Closer than she knew she should allow, even as she failed to pull back to a safer distance.
He watched with keen interest as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before meeting her gaze again and saying, “yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, it’s a nickname. Cash is short for Cassian, though I don’t think anyone’s actually called me that since my mom died.”
A pang hit her, a familiar ache that still wrenched at her ten years later.
Without fully understanding why she was doing it, she blurted, “my parents are dead, too.”
He frowned for the first time since they’d met.
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
It was an automatic response, the one she always gave to avoid people asking more questions. It didn’t feel like a long time ago, though. At least, the pain hadn’t dulled the way it should have. Some night she still caught herself wishing her mother were there to tuck her into bed.
“I’m still sorry,” Cash said, brushing her ring finger with the tips of his.
It was a feather-light touch—a gesture of comfort and solidarity—but it still had Nesta’s stomach knotting. She pulled her hand away and he didn’t fight her on it, glancing up to give her a soft look instead.
“I know how hard it is, being on your own.”
Nesta bristled.
“I’m not alone. I’ve got two younger sisters, and my—“
“—boyfriend,” he said, leaning back even as he smirked. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”
She couldn’t help it; this time, she flushed. However the look gave her said he had no intention of pushing the issue.
She imagined what Elain would say were she there, and she grit her teeth before forcing out, “I didn’t mean to imply that you—“
“Don’t apologize,” he said, eyes glittering as they skated over her face again. “Beautiful girl like you, it...wasn’t a bad assumption. Still, you have nothing to worry about from me, I promise.”
She nodded, surprised to find a twinge or disappointment. She attempted to bury the feeling by shouldering on.
“So where is Devlon?”
Cash shrugged, folding his toned arms across his chest in a gesture his white T-shirt struggled to accommodate.
“He had to go back home to handle some stuff and I’d just gotten back to town, so I told him I’d watch the shop for awhile.”
“How long will he be gone?”
Cash grinned, taking another sip of wine.
“Sick of me already, Archeron?”
She only pursed her lips in response, and he laughed.
“I didn’t ask. But long enough that you’ll get to see me again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His grin was a slash of white across his tan face, and she looked away to avoid blushing again. This was definitely too close to flirting for Nesta’s comfort. One more glass and she might—
“I should go,” she said abruptly, draining the last of her wine. “It was nice meeting you, Cassian.”
She picked up her bag and was halfway to freedom when he laughed.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
She turned back, and he gestured to the racks of wine all around them. When they made eye contact, his grin grew wicked.
“Or did Dev already tell you his gorgeous nephew was taking over the shop, and you just came to check out the goods yourself?”
She grit her teeth, trying not to admire said...goods, especially the ones she could make out through his thin t-shirt and fitted jeans.
“You’re an ass,” she growled, stalking back towards him.
“C’mon, you love it.”
“Don’t make me gut you will my shoe. It’s impossible to get blood out of suede.”
He only laughed.
“Why do I get the sense you’d actually do it, too?”
“Because I don’t make idle threats,” she snapped.
“I’ll believe that,” he said, eyes alight. “Alright, enough teasing, then. What are you looking for? Besides the Cheval, obviously,” he added, winking.
She debated ordering three cases of Nickel and Nickel just to wipe the smirk off his face. However, she quickly decided it was an exercise in futility; he’d know why she was doing it, and the Cheval really was too divine to pass up.
“Yes, you insufferable bastard, I will have a case of the Cheval.” When he grinned in reply, she added, “And a bottle of Ferreira Garrafeira.”
He gave a low whistle.
“That’s expensive stuff. And I thought you said you didn’t like Old World wine?”
“It’s not for me; it’s for Tomás.”
She could decide if she felt pleased or guilty when his smile slipped a fraction before recovering, too bright to be wholly genuine.
“Ah. the famed boyfriend, I presume. He’s certainly got...interesting taste.”
When she bristled, he went on hurriedly.
“In wine! Obviously his taste in women is...” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh.
“Yes?” She said archly, not wanting to admit how much the comment had stung.
With sisters like Elain and Feyre, Nesta was used to being dismissed as the frigid, uptight sister. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
However, Cash wasn’t looking at her in that way men often did, as if she were some poisonous insect he was afraid might sting him. His expression softened.
“Impeccable,” he finished, and it was so unexpected she flushed.
He cleared his throat before going to the computer behind the bar to consult the shop’s inventory.
“We don’t have the Garrafeira in right now, but I can order it for you. The Cheval is in the back.”
“Don’t worry about the port,” she said, regretting the outburst now. “He’ll—live.”
Cash turned, brows furrowed.
“Are you sure? I can—“
“It’s fine,” Nesta repeated. “Thank you.”
Cash nodded and disappeared into the back before reappearing with a wooden crate a minute later. The strain of holding it was doing glorious things for his arms, and she cleared her throat.
“Thank you,” she said, making a great show digging in her bag for her wallet to avoid looking at him again.
“Where are you parked? I don’t want you snapping your neck walking on those pencils you’re calling shoes.”
She pursed her lips.
“You’re hilarious. How much do I owe you?”
However, he was halfway to the door already.
“I have a friend who distributes for Cheval. This one’s on me.”
“No!” She called, following after him. “Cassian, come back! I don’t need your charity!”
Cash turned to smirk at her over his shoulder.
“With that handbag? I’d say not. Besides, this isn’t charity. It’s...an investment.”
She scowled at this, and he gave an exasperated laugh.
“Don’t get thorny on me, Archeron. I just meant—“ he broke off, laughing again. “Think of it as a perk for being a regular. Buy ten cases, get one free.”
“This isn’t Jamba Juice,” she said, deadpan. “And I don’t like owing people.”
“Look,” he said. “I wasn’t lying about my friend being a distributor. It’s not going to cost the shop anything. Now, where is your car? I think my arms are going numb.”
She bit her lip, debating what this might end up costing her. She didn’t believe in “free”, and she didn’t like feeling like she owed someone; she’d had enough of that from people when she’d been taking care of her sisters after their parents died.
Then again, she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him...like that, and she’d certainly bought her fair share of wine here over the last few years...
“Fine,” she said, gesturing to her Land Rover. “But take this, at least.”
She pulled out a fifty from her wallet, and Cash rolled his eyes.
“I’m not the pizza delivery boy; I don’t want a tip. Just, promise not to call me Cassian again. That’s all the payment I require.”
She didn’t move, the bill still outstretched. He heaved the crate into her open trunk before shutting it.
“I swear to god, woman, put that away before I shred it to ticker tape. I don’t need your charity, either.”
She relented with a huff, and he laughed.
“Thank you,” he said.
“I should be the one thanking you,” she admitted, and he smiled, leaning against her car.
“No one is stopping you.”
She grit her teeth, irritated and flustered in equal measure.
“Thank you,” she finally managed. “For the wine.”
“‘And for blowing my mind’,” he prompted, and she flipped him a foul hand gesture, civility forgotten.
“If you think that’s all it takes to blow my mind, you have a lot to learn about women.”
He bit his lip, eyes full of amusement as he peeled himself off the car.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, flashing her a quick wink. “Until next time, then, Nesta Archeron.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but for once words failed her. She instead stood, gaping like a landlocked fish as he sauntered around her and back into the shop.
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Cash was distracted for hours after Nesta Archeron left. Even as he met with reps and worked on organizing his uncle Devlon’s pathetically arcane inventory system, he found his eyes kept wandering to the door, as if she might come sauntering back in. Damnit, why hadn’t he told her the Cheval was out of stock? Then at least he would have had a guarantee of seeing her again. Depending on her drinking habits, it could be months before she came in again. Fuck, he was so stupid.
Not that it mattered, really. How many times had she managed to force her boyfriend into the equation? Twice? Three times? Definitely enough that he knew he should get the message. And he understood; he really did. Like all guys his age, he’d been raised on a steady diet of “if she’s not interested, try harder”. It hadn’t been until he’d gotten into his twenties that he’d realized how fucked up that was. When women said no, men needed to respect that and not keep pushing.
The problem was that despite all the clumsy mentions of her boyfriend, she’d still stayed when she easily could have left. Besides, if she thought he hadn’t seen her checking him out, she was insane. Not that he blamed her, obviously. If he was a woman, he’d want to fuck him, too.
Before he could catch himself, his lizard brain was imagining what being in bed with her would be like. His pulse thrummed. It wasn’t so much the idea of sleeping with her as it was imagining what a courtship like that would be like. She was definitely hot, but her body had nothing on that gorgeous brain. It was clear she was a woman of supreme intellect; he’d have to seduce her mind if he ever wanted to earn something physical.
It was the kind of intellectual challenge he craved, and one he hadn’t had in ages before she’d come in. He wanted someone who could dish it back, and Nesta Archeron clearly knew how to give as good as she got.
His phone rang, and he glanced at the caller id before huffing and picking it up.
“If you’re calling to ask if the shop has burned down yet, the answer is no.”
His uncle Devlon laughed.
“That place is the closest thing I’ll ever have to a wife; I just want to make sure you’re treating her right.”
“I’ll show her a good time while you’re away,” Cash promised, pouring himself a glass of a new Rioja the rep had dropped off that afternoon.
“Don’t make sex jokes about my baby,” Dev said. “And stop drinking my merchandise!”
“I’m not!” Cash said, setting down his glass. “Relax, old man. And is Merchant your wife or your baby? You should probably decide; you’ll freak people out if you keep using them interchangeably.”
“Very funny, wise ass. How’s it being back?”
“This place hasn’t changed a bit in ten years,” Cash said, looking around appreciatively. “But you need to get a decent table in here so you can host tasting. Why didn’t you call my friend Az like I told you to? He does gorgeous work.”
“You must think I’m a lot richer than I am,” Dev said. “I’ve seen his designs; you think I can afford a ten thousand dollar table?”
Cash rolled his eyes.
“He said he’d do it at cost. Why are you being so stubborn?”
“I’m not going to prey on your fancy friends. Tell him thank you but I can’t swing it.”
“Fine.”
Dev sighed.
“Why do I feel like you’re just going to do it anyway?”
“Because I’m as stubborn as you. How’s Koro?”
“Not a spry as she used to be, but she’s managing just fine. She wants to know when her favorite grandson is coming back. She says the Ritz on Maui is looking for a sommelier.”
“Tell her my days of working for rich white assholes is behind me,” Cash said.
Dev considered.
“You could open your winery here, you know. Volcanic wine is popular with the haoles.”
“Didn’t I just say I was done with rich white assholes?”
“Fine, fine.”
There was a pause in which Cash weighed his options before he added in what he hoped was a casual tone, “If I said the name Nesta Archeron, would that mean anything to you?”
“The lawyer? Sure. She comes in about twice a month. Nice girl, once you get past her prickly side. Why?”
Cash swirled his wine.
“Just wondering. She came in today.”
Dev gave a gravelly laugh.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree. She’s got a boyfriend.”
“So I’ve been warned. Have you met him?”
“She’s brought him in once or twice. Portuguese dude.”
“Nice?”
“Not particularly. He’s very possessive of her. Really rubbed me the wrong way.”
Cash felt a prickle of irritation himself. What was a brilliant, fiery woman like Nesta Archeron doing with a controlling prick for a boyfriend? She should be with someone who respected that sharp tongue, someone who could—
“Don’t even think about it, Cash. She’s one of my favorite customers. I don’t want you to scare her off with your panting.”
“I don’t ‘pant’. Also, can you blame me? Man, those legs, and her eyes—“
“I mean it,” Dev interrupted, voice firmer this time. “If she brought up her boyfriend, it means she wants you to fuck off.”
“I’m not going to bother her. I was just....curious.”
“Well don’t be. That creepy boyfriend will nail your balls to the wall if he finds out you’re trying to move in on her.”
“I respect her choices, but I don’t give a shit about him. He can suck my co—“
“I think you’d better accept that no one in that relationship wants your tiny pecker.”
“Tell that to the way she was looking at me today.”
“Just because you’ve got a cute ass doesn’t mean she likes you.”
Cash groaned.
“Fine, forget I said anything.”
Dev chuckled.
“Don’t be sulky. I’m sure there’s plenty of women in the Bay Area that would be happy to take her place.”
He was right, but somehow it didn’t make Cash feel any better. There was no shortage of beautiful women in San Francisco, but none of them interested him quite the way she had. There’d been no denying the wrenching disappointment when he’d realized she wasn’t single. Then again, had he really expected someone like her to be? And she was lawyer to boot. He gave a huff of amused appreciation. He should have known.
“Right,” Dev said, interrupting his reverie. “Well I just wanted to check in, sounds like everything is fine there. I will tell Koro you said hi. Remember, I’m charging you for any of my wine you drink.”
Cash snorted.
“You’re getting my expertise for free. I’ll drink all the wine I want.”
“Fair enough. Take care of yourself, pōtiki. And no more hitting on my customers!”
“I wasn’t—“ Cash began, but the line clicked off, and he swore, even has he caught himself laughing a little.
He’d been second-guessing the decision to come back from London since he’d arrived two weeks ago. Today, for the first time, he felt he was exactly where he was meant to be.
He’d thought he might owe Nesta Archeron another case of wine for that, boyfriend or no. He just hoped she wouldn’t make him wait too long for the opportunity.