Vi Keeland already has our summer reading covered with her up-coming release, The Summer Proposal, but now she’s getting us ready for what comes after with the ultimate read that will have your booking a flight to the Italian countryside ASAP. After all, a good author is always here to offer you a dream escape and there’s no doubt that she’s done it yet again with her next novel that brings us straight to fall.
Cosmopolitan has an exclusive first look at Vi Keeland’s The Fall Affair, which is set to be released on August 18, 2026. A woman’s journey to Italy to settle her grandmother’s affairs turns into a surprise test when she finds a special clause in the will that prevents her from getting her inheritance right away. All of sudden, what was supposed to be her dream escape suddenly becomes her new home and the hot local winemaker shows her the magic that wine and Tuscany. Talk about a dream trip! Here’s some more info from our friends at Bloom Books:
She’s counting down the days until she leaves Tuscany. He’s counting on making her stay.
Some people go to Tuscany to find themselves. Allegra Bianchi goes to escape—New York, her ex’s new relationship, and a career that derailed the moment she was passed over for partner.
Her plan is simple: settle her eccentric Italian grandmother’s estate, sell whatever isn’t nailed down, and return to the life she’s worked too hard to lose.
Instead, she walks into a mess—a crumbling antique shop, two hundred acres of leased vineyard land, and one infuriating clause in the will: live and work in the shop for three months, or inherit nothing.
Then there’s the neighbor she clashes with instantly. Matteo Lucchese is the infuriatingly handsome winemaker who leases her family’s land and refuses to be impressed by her credentials—or her attitude. He’s rugged and stubborn, stuck living in a time that feels long past, and the word rush isn’t part of his vocabulary. Basically, they’re exact opposites.
But as the days stretch into weeks, Tuscany chips away at the armor Allegra doesn’t realize she’s wearing, and Matteo shows her the appeal of slowing down, of staying rooted, of wanting something other than climbing the corporate ladder.
She goes to Tuscany to escape.
But now that the countdown to going home is on, Allegra isn’t sure she’s ready to leave.
And the life she’s falling for comes with a looming expiration date.
Grab a glass of your favorite wine and get your shelves ready for a stunning new addition, because you’re going to want the deluxe edition of The Fall Affair on your shelves as soon as it drops. Not only do you get your first glimpse at Allegra and Matteo on the cover, but the book’s sprayed edges hint at a special moment that will no doubt have us swooning.
Your flight to Italy is already booked for August 18, 2026, but you can get a sneak peek at what you can expect in the exclusive excerpt below. Just make sure to pre-order The Fall Affairso you don’t miss your trip and check out Vi’s other reads to pack in your bag!
Chapter 1
Allegra
“Can you do me a favor and pick up calamine lotion on your way in?”
“Oh no.” My assistant sighed. “Again?”
Her husband’s voice grumbled from somewhere behind her. “Hang up. It’s six o’clock in the damn morning.”
It sounded like Cassie covered the phone, but I could still make out her words. “Allegra’s freaking out about the partnership announcement.”
“Sucks. But she’ll still be freaking out after the sun comes up. I have a twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse starting in a few hours.”
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll go in the other room.”
There was a brief pause, followed by the creak of a door opening and shutting, before she came back on the line. “Seriously, Allegra, you’ve got this. You’re worrying for nothing. You billed over twenty-eight hundred hours last year, more than anyone at the entire firm. And the partners give you all the high-profile cases.”
My paralegal was right. I deserved to be made partner after six years of working my butt off. Eight associates had started the same day I did, and only three of us were left now. Three had gotten fired within the first year, and two had left to start their own practice together. The only other remaining associates were Dale and Sierra, and they weren’t much competition. Dale was smart and hardworking, with a ton of potential, but he was a disorganized mess and had recently blown a filing deadline that led to the client suing our firm, Kasoff, Faust & Moore, for seven figures. And it wasn’t the first time he’d missed an important date. It was just the first time it had come back to bite him in the ass.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” I said. “I didn’t realize it was so early. I’m on my way to the office to run my cross by Will before I go to court to annihilate Mr. Whittaker, and I was almost there before I noticed the bumps starting on my chest.”
“It’s fine. I should’ve been awake already, but I stayed up late bingeing some stupid reality TV show. I’ll pick up the lotion on my way in and leave it on your desk, in case we miss each other. I have to run to Brooklyn family court to pick up the sealed records you need for the DeLaurentis case. Good luck today. Not that you need it—in court or at the partnership announcement tonight.”
“Thanks, Cass.”
I swiped my phone off as I arrived at the office. Most days I rushed in and out without giving the building any thought, but this morning I slowed and took in the full glory of 625 Lexington Avenue. The rising sun cast a shimmery glow across the face of the iconic skyscraper, giving it a majestic feeling. Six years ago, this very day, I’d stood here with my hands shaking, nervous about my first day at one of the biggest law firms in New York City. This time tomorrow, I should be a partner—I’d better be, considering how much I’d given up to get here. Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the front door and then the turnstile, saying good morning to the security guard before heading to the elevator bank.
As usual, the halls were empty when I stepped off on the fifty-seventh floor. Sometimes an associate or two was in at this hour, but never the support staff, and it was a rarity for any partner to show up before seven. Well, except for Will Stevens, who had been my mentor since I started here. Whenever I was on trial, he came in early so I could run my opening or closing by him—or practice a cross-examination, like I planned to do today.
I pushed through the sleek glass double doors to the firm’s reception area, which looked more like the entrance to a designer showroom than a law office. Minimalist furnishings, white walls lined with abstract art and gallery lighting, and an oversized vase of fresh flowers greeted visitors. It was impressive, at least until you went up to the top floor where all the partner offices were. There you were met with all the same fancy décor and sweeping, floor-to-ceiling views of Manhattan. I caught myself momentarily distracted, wondering what kind of budget I might get to decorate my new space once the formalities of making partner were finally behind me.
Inside my office, I tucked my purse in a drawer and grabbed the stack of index cards I always used to prep for trials. Then I stopped in the coffee room for a much-needed caffeine fix. By the time I went upstairs to the partner floor, it was six thirty, exactly three hours before I would tear Mr. Whittaker apart on the stand. I was going to enjoy wiping the smug smile off that cheating jerk’s face.
Will’s office was two from the end of the hall. I walked down, reading my first question from the top index card while mouthing the words to myself as I passed a dozen empty offices. At least I thought they were all empty until I heard a noise that sounded like a man in pain coming from somewhere behind me. I stopped and looked back, noticing that Harry Kasoff’s door was slightly ajar. The hall was now pin-drop quiet, though, so perhaps I’d imagined the sound. I raised my foot to keep going, but as I touched the pointy toe of my pump to the carpet, there was another noise—a groan, and this time the sound was louder.
Panic washed over me. Was Harry in there having a heart attack? My own heart pounded as I turned around. Every instinct told me to rush into his office and make sure he was okay—damn, I hope I remember the CPR I learned in middle school. Yet something… Something stopped me. Not fear, but a pulse of doubt. Like my heart knew what I was about to walk in on before my brain could admit it.
Instead of blasting the door open, I held my breath and peered through the crack.
And there was old Harry Kasoff, white-knuckling the arms of his chair. His head was tipped back, and his mouth hung unattractively open. My already-wide eyes bulged as I noticed a set of feet sticking out from the side of his desk.
Feet with shoes.
Women’s shoes.
Louboutins, to be exact—the So Kate black patent-leather pumps with shiny red bottoms. I had a pair myself, which sort of freaked me out at the moment. I’d never worn them to the office, of course. Stilettos that high were reserved for date nights that didn’t involve a lot of walking.
But those don’t look like the 120 heel size. Do they make the So Kate in a lower heel now? Mine are matte black, not the shiny patent leather. Wonder if I’d get more use out of them? For a few seconds, I stood there thinking dumb thoughts about my shoes rather than fully comprehending that one of the senior partners at my firm was getting a blowjob at his desk. The image didn’t seem to process, like my brain was busy buffering and couldn’t spit out the answer to what was going on. Once it finally did, I clamped a hand over my mouth, stepped back quietly, and hurried the rest of the way down the hall.
Will, the partner I’d been coming to see, stepped out of his office—the one now behind me—and into the hall.
“Allegra?”
“Oh… Um, hey.” I forced a smile.
He furrowed his brow and pointed inside his office. “Weren’t we meeting in here?”
I swallowed. “Yeah, of course. I was just going to…” I pointed ahead of me and pulled the first thing I thought of out of my ass. “Run to the bathroom.”
The crease between his brows deepened. He pointed in the opposite direction. “The ladies’ room is that way.”
Crap.
I closed my eyes briefly. “Right…right. Sorry. I’m still half asleep. I should’ve picked up coffee before coming in.”
Will’s eyes pointed down to the cup in my hand. He smirked. “You really are sleepy this morning.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, yeah. I just need a minute.”
He held up a hand. “Take your time. I’m sure you’re overprepared and don’t even really need to do a run-through.”
“Thanks. I’ll, uh, be back in a few minutes.”
I started to walk again and realized I was still going the wrong direction, which Will had just reminded me. When I turned around, he looked amused, but said nothing else as I made my way to the other end of the hall.
I couldn’t bear to look toward the door as I passed Harry Kasoff’s office. The vision of his wrinkly face in ecstasy was already going to haunt my dreams. I spent a full ten minutes in the ladies’ room, attempting to get my head back in the game. But it wasn’t easy. Those were not shoes Harry’s wife would wear, even if she hadn’t had back surgery only two weeks ago. And I didn’t think the sixty-five-year-old appellate court judge frequented the office at dawn to give her husband of thirty-odd years a blowjob at his desk. No… Harry Kasoff, the founding partner of Kasoff, Faust & Moore, was definitely having an affair.
***
Being in court did something to me. It sharpened my focus, making everything else fade into the background. Even the horror show I’d unwillingly been subjected to this morning slipped out of reach. And for that, I was hella grateful.
I spread my index cards on the counsel’s table, though I probably wouldn’t need them. I hadn’t looked at them during my run-through with Will this morning, but I liked to be overprepared in case something caused me to go off track. Parker Whittaker, my client’s soon-to-be ex-husband, sneered in my direction as he passed through the swinging wooden half door that separated the spectators from the players. Normally I would’ve growled right back at him, but today I offered an over-the-top smile in return. It wasn’t difficult to conjure up. I just had to think about what his expression was going to look like when I pulled out the photos of him and his best friend’s wife sucking face. Not only would that cause a large penalty from his prenuptial agreement to kick in, but it should help with my cross-examination of the character witness he’d presented—his best friend.
Nolan Pierce, Mr. Whittaker’s attorney, was someone I’d been up against before. He only represented men, and it was pretty clear why based on the way he treated the female population in general. He spoke to my chest and underestimated me every single time, even though I’d kicked his ass on all but one of our cases together. Considering he himself had been divorced four times and was only in his forties, I’m sure he didn’t have to dig too deep to locate the bitterness and contempt he always showed for the opposition.
Yes, today is going to be a very fun day after all.
Judge Harrison came out from his chambers, and the court officer instructed everyone to rise. His Honor took his seat on the bench, motioned for everyone to sit, and fitted his reading glasses on the tip of his nose.
“Ms. Bianchi, are you ready to begin your cross?”
I nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”
Opposing counsel raised a hand. “Judge, we actually have one more witness we’d like to take the stand.”
My eyes narrowed. “There aren’t any more witnesses on their list.”
Nolan held up a manila folder—the exact type I had sitting on the table in front of me that contained the compromising photos of Mr. Whittaker. “I apologize for the late add,” he said. “My team was only able to identify the witness yesterday. We’d also like to enter some new photos into evidence. The additional witness will testify as to their authenticity.”
My stomach dropped. What did this little shit have up his sleeve? I looked over at my client for help, but Mrs. Whittaker merely shrugged. Yet for some reason, my gut told me to fight tooth and nail to not let this witness in.
I stood. “We adamantly object, Your Honor. Counsel had his chance to put on his case. The petition for divorce was filed fourteen months ago, and Mr. Pierce has spent the last two weeks putting on an elaborate dog-and-pony show, dragging my client’s name through the mud. If whatever this is was relevant, it should’ve been disclosed during discovery. We’ve had no opportunity to see this surprise evidence, nor prepare for whatever new tactic he’s trying to spring on us.”
I glanced over at Mr. Whittaker. His smile was so wide, it looked like his face might crack. What the hell is going on?
Judge Harrison extended his hand, palm up. “Let me see what kind of evidence we’re talking about here.”
Opposing counsel handed the envelope to the court officer, who brought it to the bench. I watched as the judge bent the prongs holding the envelope closed and slipped out an eight-by-ten photo. I couldn’t see the picture from here, but watching his brows jump to nearly his hairline was definitely not a good sign. He tucked the photo back into the envelope.
“I take it you haven’t shown these to Ms. Bianchi or her client yet?”
“No, Your Honor.”
He nodded and held the envelope out to the court officer. “Frank, give these to Ms. Bianchi, please. I’m going to allow the witness and the new evidence, but I want a full explanation as to why this person couldn’t be found sooner. If I’m not satisfied that you aren’t playing games, I’ll throw out the testimony and pretend this mess never happened. Do you understand, Mr. Pierce?”
“Yes, Judge. Thank you.”
I took the envelope from the court officer and spoke up. “Your Honor, I’d like to request—”
Judge Harrison held up a hand and cut me off. “I know, I know. You want a recess. We’ll take one hour for you to talk to your client about the new evidence.” He lifted his gavel and slammed it down. “You’re gonna need every second of that time.”
***
Today had turned into the day from hell.
I sat on the subway at 5:45 in the afternoon, sweating my ass off in a jam-packed car. We hadn’t moved in nearly an hour, and the air was thick and sour. Seriously? What the heck else could go wrong? First, I’d walked in on old man Kasoff getting a blowjob, then my case blew up in my face when my client’s ex somehow got pictures of her sleeping with their eighteen-year-old son’s best friend, and now I was going to have sweat rings when I arrived at the partner announcement—if I even made it before it ended. This day couldn’t get any worse.
Or so I thought…
Twenty-five minutes later, I arrived at the office and made a beeline for the executive conference room. I would’ve liked to freshen up in the ladies’ room first, but there was no time. As I pushed open the glass door, all heads turned to me.
“Sorry,” I said softly. “Train got stuck.”
Harry Kasoff frowned and cleared his throat before continuing with the same speech I’d heard for the last two years, since every fourth-year associate and older attended the annual partner announcements. I was ten minutes late, yet he continued to drone on about the history of the firm for another twenty. At least that gave me a little time to cool off, and now my forehead would be dry when they called my name.
Jonathan Faust, the second named partner of the firm, spoke after Harry finally shut up. I recognized his speech as almost word for word from last year, too. His bit focused on what they look for in potential partners—the qualities of leadership: integrity, drive, resilience…blah, blah, blah. While he rattled on, I scanned the packed room. There were probably eighty senior associates and partners crammed four rows deep around the twenty-seat conference table. I spotted two of the associates who were a year ahead of me and I thought might be granted partnership this time around. I’d been surprised last year when they weren’t named. As I rounded the circle back to where the partners stood, my eyes landed on Sierra Wells. She’d definitely put on a fresh coat of lipstick and fixed her hair before the meeting. And was that…was that a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth? It seemed like she was trying to hide it, but the dimple denting her cheek and the glint shining in her eyes gave her away. She couldn’t possibly think she was going to be made a partner this year, could she?
It certainly looked like it. In fact—my eyes lowered to her outfit—even that screamed it. Normally she wore slacks and a blouse like most of us did, but today she had on a little black dress, the kind you might wear out to dinner or to some sort of a celebratory occasion.
A flicker of doubt seeped into my stomach. Could I not make partner and Sierra would? Was that remotely possible? I hadn’t thought so before this moment. But suddenly, something I believed in, something I’d been counting on, felt very fragile—like any second my world could shatter.
Jonathan finally finished his speech, and the last of the three named partners stepped forward. Rich Moore was the youngest and friendliest of the trio.
“You’ve all been waiting very patiently for my partners to shut the hell up.” He smiled and laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “No offense, boys. But you can really go on and on.”
Everyone laughed, and Rich took out a folded piece of paper from his pants pocket. He spoke as he opened it. “There are six names this year. I swear I know them all, but I’m going to read them from this paper just to make sure I don’t screw this up.”
He held the paper out once it was fully unfolded.
“Congratulations to the following associates who are being offered partnership this year:
“Tom Walker.”
Everyone clapped.
“Hunter Razaul.”
More claps.
“Malik Hayes.”
Claps and a few cheers. Malik was one of the two I thought should’ve gotten partnership last year. He deserved it.
“David Takashi.”
A quieter round of claps. David could be a real dick sometimes.
“Christian Wendell.”
Oh God. He’d named five of the six new partners and still hadn’t named Ken Bauman, the other attorney I thought should’ve been granted partnership last year. I suddenly felt sick and started to scratch at my chest.
“And last, but not least, congratulations to Sierra Wells.”
My jaw dropped open. You’ve got to be kidding me! I could see losing to Ken—don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have been happy about it—but Sierra? Sierra freaking Wells? Why the hell would they ever pick that woman over me?
I stood in shock as a murmur grew around the room and people formed a line to congratulate the newest partners. I seriously couldn’t believe it. I’d billed eight-hundred hours more than she had last year, first-chaired double the number of cases she had, and was granted the Root-Stimson Outstanding Community Service Award by the New York State Bar Association. I didn’t have an ounce more left to give.
After some amount of time—I had no clue how much had passed while I stood there rooted in the same spot—people eventually started filing out of the room. I heard footsteps and murmured congratulations, people talking about going to the cocktail hour that always followed the announcements, but I still couldn’t move. I kept replaying Rich Moore saying the name Sierra Wells over and over, like a record skipping in my mind. Attorneys had to walk around me to get to the door while I stared across the room at the partners. My vision was a bit hazy, almost as if I was seeing everything from underwater—at least until a flash of blonde hair snapped my vision back into focus. Everything sharpened as Sierra Wells walked over to Harry Kasoff. She leaned in and gave him a hug, kicking up one of her legs Marilyn Monroe style.
That’s when I saw it.
The So Kate black patent-leather pumps with shiny red bottoms.
Copyright © 2026 by Vi Keeland
The Fall Affair,by B.K. Borison will be released on August 18, 2026 from Bloom Books. To preorder the book, click on the retailer of your choice:
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