Page 1 of Last Shot

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Grey

A woman’s scream filled the hall, and Greyson’s hand shot to his firearm. A movement he quickly disguised as a shoulder stretch when it became clear the only gun threat was the two bulging through Luca Barbarani’s shirt as he rolled up his sleeves. Earthquakes and violent beheadings had received calmer reactions.

The screamer was one in a crowd of too many for Grey’s liking. He could barely see Luca through the stiletto and satin thicket of ravenous ticket holders.

The people of Ancient Rome had a traditional torture method calledpoena cullei. Normally reserved for murderers who’d knocked off a father or a spouse, the accused was forced into a bag filled with a monkey, a rooster, a snake and a dog, and tossed into a river.

Some might argue hosting the inaugural ‘Battle of the Strippers’ in your father’s winery was not exactly on par with murdering a family member. But unfortunately for Luca, his father – wine mogul Giovanni Barbarani – was not ‘some’. What Giovanni was came down to two things: traditional and Italian.

So, instead of a river, Luca had been tossed into the Bindi Bindi Town Hall, and instead of a mixture of starved, violent animals, he was facing a prison of horny, single women with sharp acrylic nails, all writhing and scratching to place the winning bid at tonight’s bachelor auction. Grey was not allowed to have opinions on matters like this but having served the Barbarani family since he was a child, he had enough insight to know that given the choice, Luca would have gone with the bag.

Luca shot Grey a fleeting look of pain from the centre of the hall as his perfectly straight bowtie was ‘fixed’ yet again by a set of shimmery talons. But whatever Grey’s opinions were about Luca’s expert straddling of the barbed-wire border between empowerment and objectification that had landed him in this position, his job was to make sure those opinions – and any lukewarm sympathy that may be bubbling up – were buried with him. A burial that might be happening sooner rather than later if Grey failed to get Luca to cross the finish line of Giovanni’s auction punishment.

Grey picked a scale of glitter from under his nail. The floor and all other porous surfaces back at the Barbarani Winery would be shimmering for weeks following Luca’s stripper dance-off the previous night. Giovanni had likely already ordered the floors to be lifted and replaced with new ones. The funds would be deducted from Grey’s next pay cheque.

He followed the orbiting women as Luca rotated through the crowd like the sun, Grey taking his natural position as the omniscient non-denominational observer. It did give him some satisfaction to see Luca so clearly uncomfortable. After all, it was Grey’s night off, and here he was, stalking a 24-year-old Italian man with a biological affliction that made every straight woman within a fifty-mile radius ruin their underwear.

The lesson Grey was meant to take from his loss of vacation privileges was that he should have foreseen the desecration of the winery and put a stop to it. After all, as the ‘Fixer’ it was his job to save the Barbaranis from external threats to their reputation and their lives (in that order), but also from themselves.

As he leaned back against the wall, his phone vibrated, likely at his audacity to angle his body in any position that could be considered the beginning stages of relaxation. Incoming call:Tomaso Barbarani.

Ignore.He wasn’t subjecting himself to the aTOMic bomb until he’d done his research. Stories like the one infecting certain corners of the internet right now usually didn’t go much further once the Barbarani Fixer cut them out; it was his job to deal with them before they metastasised into a full-blown PR emergency.

The facts:

a) Poppy Raven, a university student, drank from a bottle of Barbarani Wine at a party.

b) Poppy Raven was now in ICU at Joondalup Hospital.

Leave it to the keyboard warriors and the Barbaranis’ enemies to form a military alliance to fill in the gaps with dangerous false narratives. The headlines sliced through Grey’s head as he watched Luca pose for a selfie, looking like a kidnap victim staged for a proof of life photo.

Kiss of Death: Barbarani Wine Puts Victim in ICU.

Fined Wine: Giovanni Barbarani Could be Forced to Pay Millions in Compensation Claim to Victim of Poisoned Wine.

Australian Horror Story: Dodgy Wine Could Destroy Barbarani’s Plans for Hotel.

Tom’s expectations would have Grey evaporating these headlines from the public’s consciousness within the hour. But Grey served Giovanni, and Giovanni’s priorities were:

1. Luca’s humiliation

2. Apply first aid to the attempted TikTok assassination of the Barbarani name.

‘I think he drugged me,’ a blonde girl called gleefully from the centre of the room. ‘Luca Barbarani drugged me!’

‘Hey.’ Grey pushed his boot off the wall and strode over to the girl, who was clutching the arm of a tall woman with a pixie cut, swaying like she’d just hopped off the Turbo Spin ride at the Royal Show. ‘No one drugged you. If they had, you’d know because they’d be dead.’ Her eyes lowered to his holster.

‘I was justjoking.’ She rolled her eyes. They didn’t quite make it back.

‘I don’t get it,’ Grey deadpanned. ‘Is roofying womenfunnyto you? Because it’s not to me.’

‘She’s drunk,’ Pixie-cut offered helpfully. ‘It’s the sangue talking.’

‘Yelling,’ Grey said. ‘It’s Italian. It’s strong.’

The blonde girl’s face drooped. ‘I didn’t drinkthatmuch wine,’ she said, blinking at the two empty bottles on the silver cocktail table next to them.

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