Page 81 of A Touch of Fate

I could tell he would be a handful to keep in check. His teenage antics would undoubtedly drive me up the wall.

He and I stayed in the office when Dad and Dante left a little later.

Leonas lifted his glass. I rolled my eyes and poured him a small sip.

“When you take over from your father, will you change how things are handled?” he asked, suddenly dead serious and not sounding like a teenager at all.

I cocked an eyebrow. “In what regard?”

“The Outfit has shown a lot of restraint over the years when we should have sought revenge, when we should have sent a bloody message.”

I didn’t say anything. “Some things aren’t for me to decide, even once I’m Underboss. That’s the job of a Capo.”

“When I’m Capo, our enemies will regret they ever underestimated us.” I didn’t think they underestimated us. They knew Dante had a more controlled approach to many things. Leonas’s green eyes met mine. “I definitely won’t stop you from getting revenge on the crazy fuckers in Las Vegas.”

My smile became hard. “We killed one of their Underbosses.”

Leonas shook his head. “That’s not enough. Don’t tell me it’s enough for what Remo Falcone and his brothers did.”

It wasn’t, but unless we did what he had done, I didn’t see how it could ever be enough. “You are young. Until you’re Capo, your perspective will change.”

Leonas smirked.

I wasn’t looking forward to August. Another wedding to attend with Renato and Giorgia’s last-minute nuptials, becoming Leonas’s babysitter, and worst of all, the anniversary of Arlo’s, Enea’s, and Domenico’s death.

Emma must have felt my darkening mood because she often regarded me in worry. I knew she wanted to help, but I didn’t see how she could. I was taking over more and more tasks from my father every day to make the switch to me becoming Underboss go as smoothly as possible, but that also meant the focus shifted more and more toward me, and, as a result, also on Emma. Our life would remain in the spotlight for a while, especially with people wondering when, how, and if we’d ever have children. I wasn’t too keen on becoming a father yet, not with the tasks ahead in the next couple of years. Emma and I had never discussed the matter of children or the prevention thereof. I hadn’t ever used protection, so I couldn’t help but wonder if Emma could conceive. We had only been married for six weeks, so it wasn’t as if it was unusual, even without protection, that she wasn’t pregnant.

Still, I was reluctant to approach the subject of children with Emma. I didn’t want to rip open certain wounds, but I alsodespised relying on the tasteless rumors making the rounds to build my knowledge.

After dinner, I had gone to my office to check the documents our accountant had sent us for the dummy corporations we upheld to launder our drug money, but now I went in search of Emma to finally broach the subject with her. I found her in the living room, huddled into a corner of the sofa with a book. Emma looked up from her book, her brows pulling together as she scanned my face.

I gave her a tight smile and sank down on the sofa beside her. She watched me curiously. “Is something the matter?”

“As you know, we’re expected to have children,” I said carefully. I was tired of the subtle and not-so-subtle comments from friends, soldiers, and distant relatives—my parents rarely bugged me with this—regarding our nonexistent chances of having children. I wanted certainty.

She put her book aside and leaned back, pursing her lips. “You want to discuss it now?”

I couldn’t determine the emotion in her voice, but she was not happy about the topic. “I think we should do it sooner rather than later. You never mentioned if the accident caused any injuries that would affect us having children and whether we might need help becoming parents.”

She tilted her head, regarding me with a quiet intensity that almost made me squirm. “Of course, it’s always good to be prepared, but what makes you think we need help?”

The way she emphasized help made it clear she didn’t like my choice of words. To be honest, I had never researched the matter and didn’t know what exactly needed to be done in our case. “Emma,” I said firmly. Despite the short time we were married, I knew she didn’t like to be reduced to her wheelchair, but we needed to face the reality of the situation. I didn’t have any detailed knowledge about the extent of her injuries from theaccident, and I didn’t trust Danilo or my mother-in-law to be honest with me. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do,” she said with a small sigh. “You think I’m infertile because I’m in a wheelchair like so many rumors are suggesting, which is another reason I was labeled damaged goods. You could have asked me instead of believing the rumors.”

Emma calling herself damaged goods made my blood boil. Nobody had dared to call her that in my presence, or they would have suffered a similar fate as the useless recruit.

She was right. My assumption was based solely on the information that had been making the rounds in our circles and that even my parents had shared, which neither Emma nor her parents had ever contradicted. “I assumed the injury to your spinal cord resulted in infertility issues.”

Fuck, I wasn’t a doctor, and like many men in our circles, I really didn’t like to think or talk about women’s issues.

“It can cause certain issues to keep a pregnancy or become pregnant at all, but in my case, it doesn’t. Of course, other issues having nothing to do with the accident might lead to the same infertility issues every woman might be affected by. I’m as fertile as a woman with working legs can be. I can get pregnant, and I can bear children, and my doctor assured me that I don’t have a higher risk of a miscarriage than any other woman does.”

“All right,” I said slowly, feeling relieved. “If that’s the case, then why didn’t you or your parents say something to dissuade the rumors?”

She smiled bitterly. “Because,” she said, “my fertility isn’t anyone’s business. You make it sound as if I should have defended myself. My value isn’t based on my reproductive organs, Samuel. I’m telling you now because you asked and because, as my husband, you deserve to know, but anyone else can just assume whatever they want.”

When she was angry like that, with her skin flushed and her hair a little messy from her agitation, she was even more gorgeous. She was always lovely, not just when she was angry, but then in particular.

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