Page 112 of A Touch of Fate

Another shot was fired from behind the bar. “He fucked my wife!” The voice sounded raspy and weak.

“Weapons down! That’s a fucking order.”

The soldier behind the table tossed his gun to the center. Then nothing. I slowly walked inside as Renato’s grandfather stepped out and looked at something behind the bar. He bent down, then straightened and shook his head.

“Fuck.”

I stalked toward the guy behind the table and dragged him to his feet, but he moaned and clutched his bleeding side. “Call our doctor,” I shouted.

Renato’s grandfather picked up his phone.

“What the fuck happened here?”

He winced, holding his side. “I slept with his wife, and he found out. I came here to grab dinner for my family before the restaurant opened, and he cornered me.”

I pushed him down on a chair with force. “I suppose your wife doesn’t know you fucked around.”

He shook his head, paling more as he lost more blood. I headed around the bar where the other man had bled out from two shot wounds to his belly. I looked around. Two windows were broken, glass was everywhere, and several tables were ruined. The restaurant wouldn’t open tonight. I didn’t need word about this to spread. The mayor might try to use it against us until I’d figured out a safe way to get him under control.

“Thanks for coming,” Renato’s grandfather said and handed me a bottle of vintage Brunello, one of my favorites. I took it, then called our cleanup crew and headed back to my car. I put the bottle down on the passenger seat.

I really wanted a drink.

Emma wasn’t home yet. She was with Giorgia. She wouldn’t find out if I had a drink if I showered and brushed my teeth.

I started the car and gave the club manager another call to ask how things were going—too slow—and then I called Renato to tell him his grandparents were okay, but the restaurant wasn’t. After that, I drove to the dead soldier’s family. His wife criedover his death, and maybe it wasn’t even fake. His three kids were definitely distraught. I hated being the harbinger of bad news like that, especially when my own men were responsible for a death. I’d have to figure out how to punish the surviving soldier. He too had kids.

When I arrived home, I stayed in the car for a while, debating if I should take the wine bottle with me. I messaged Emma.

I got my favorite wine as a gift today.

It was only a small part of the story, but I knew it was enough.

Immediately, Emma’s name flashed across my screen. I took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have disturbed her. Now she’d feel obligated to return home early. I picked it up.

“I’ll be home in thirty minutes,” she said. She probably wasn’t alone.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to rush. I’ve been alone with the bottle for a while now.” My voice sounded relaxed and certain, but my insides craved that wine.

“I know it’s going to be fine.” Emma too sounded sure. I wondered if she was. “But I’ll be home soon. I’m tired.”

I hung up and grabbed the bottle, then walked into the house. I could hear pots clinking in the kitchen, but I walked straight to my office, grabbed a glass and a bottle opener, then sat on the armchair in front of the fireplace. The familiar scent of berries and tannins flooded my nose as I poured myself a generous glass. I watched the dark red liquid and whirled it around in the glass so it could breathe and really develop its aroma.

Would a drink get rid of my problems with the mayor? No. Would it help me find a just punishment for the cheating soldier? No.

But it would surely make it seem that way for a little while.

I found Samuel in his office, sitting in his armchair in a half-unbuttoned shirt and swirling a dark red liquid in a wineglass. His jacket and tie lay discarded on the hardwood floor. His blond brows pulled together as he regarded the alcohol in the glass. I stopped in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but he didn’t, only kept staring at the glass.

“Today was a shitty day. A police raid in one of our clubs because the new mayor wants to show us who’s boss.” He smiled grimly as if the mayor would learn soon enough that it wasn’t him. “A fight among Made Men because one slept with the wife of another. One guy dead, the other badly injured, of course the one who stole the woman. Now I need to decide what to do with him. They both have young children.” He finally looked up.

“Sounds stressful,” I said softly, gliding closer until I came to a stop before him. I motioned at the wineglass, my belly tightening in apprehension. Samuel had fought so hard these past three weeks. This would set him back. I glanced at the bottle beside him on the small table. It was still mostly full except for the wine in his glass. “And is it helping?”

He chuckled darkly and finally set the glass down on the small side table and took my hand instead. He kissed my palm, the hint of stubble tickling my skin. “Never, and I didn’t drink anything.”

I gave him a questioning look.

He leaned forward and kissed my lips, maybe so I could confirm that he didn’t smell of alcohol or spearmint. “I wanted to, believe me. It was a gift from the restaurant manager, Renato’s grandfather. I fucking wanted that drink after this long day, but even more than that, I wanted to be stronger than a goddamn drink. I wanted to win against the need to drink. I think I’ve been staring at the wine for close to an hour before you arrived.”

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