Page 46 of A Touch of Fate

A little over a month after our wedding, Emma and I had to attend our first social event in Minneapolis: my mother’s fifty-first birthday party.

Emma looked stunning in a terracotta evening dress that accentuated her narrow waist. The neckline was low, giving me a tantalizing look at the swell of her breasts. Jealousy reared its head when I considered the view many men would get.

As usual, my mother had to invite the families of every Captain.

Sofia had flown in for one night too, but without Danilo because he was busy with business.

Dante and his family were there too, minus my cousin Anna who was in Paris.

Dante’s presence meant Dad and I could talk to him and Leonas later.

I greeted most people with a brief nod and shook the occasional hand.

Most of the guests had been at our wedding as well.

I could tell Emma felt uncomfortable under the force of everyone’s attention.

Eventually, when we settled a little to the side in the living room with glasses of champagne, I told her, “You’ll get used to it. ”

“I’m used to it,” Emma insisted. “But that doesn’t mean I like it. I keep hoping people will start ignoring me.”

“You’re the wife of the next Underboss. Nobody is ever going to ignore you. You married the wrong man for that kind of life. Will you be okay with it?”

Emma pursed her lips, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t have a choice, right?”

I shook my head. She didn’t. She’d have to attend even more social functions than me in the future to schmooze the wives of the Captains and certain politicians.

“I just wish people would stop giving me that look.”

I let my gaze wander over the gathered guests, but people were careful to keep their faces neutral when they felt my eyes on them. Still, I caught the occasional look of doubt.

“What look?”

“Like I’m a liability,” Emma muttered, her eyes full of indignation.

I emptied my champagne. “They’re ignorant. Eventually, they’ll realize they were wrong.”

When people looked at us, they pinpointed Emma as the weakness in our relationship because what people perceived as her flaw was apparent to the naked eye. My flaws were well hidden.

One of my great-aunts, who was only invited because honor dictated it and not because my parents liked her, approached us with a benevolent smile.

She stopped in front of us and supported her weight on her walking stick.

She was probably around ninety. “Samuel and his wife,” she said with a too bright smile, but her eyes were like those of a hawk. “When can we expect offspring?”

My mouth set in a tight line. Emma took a sip from her champagne, her expression pinching.

“That’s a very private question, Aunt,” Dante said as he came up behind her. She clucked her tongue but excused herself with a tight smile. Valentina and Leonas joined us a moment later.

Dante gave Emma a small smile before he turned to me. “How about we discuss Leonas’s stay now?”

“Business talk at your sister’s birthday?” Valentina asked with a frown.

Emma shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a milestone birthday,” I said. Mom had celebrated her fiftieth birthday with a huge party last year.

“Excuse us,” I told Emma and Valentina. I knew Valentina would keep Emma entertained until my mother could evade the chatty wives she was stuck with.

Leonas gave me a bored look. “Samuel.”

“Leonas,” I deadpanned.

Dante and I walked ahead toward Dad’s office.

I didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe he was already waiting for us.

Leonas trailed us a few steps, letting his cool gaze scan the crowd, but nothing caught his interest. Knowing him, he preferred a very different kind of celebration, with pot, booze, and girls.

As suspected, Dad was in his office, probably already tired of socializing. He greeted us with a new bottle of bourbon and handed glasses to Dante and me.

Leonas scoffed. “Come on, Uncle Pietro. I’m a Made Man. I fuck girls, I kill, I torture, and you refuse to give me a drink like I’m a little kid?”

Pietro looked at Dante, who had the last word on the matter.

I didn’t remember the first time I’d had a drink. Maybe after my first time when I was fourteen.

“As with almost everything, it’s a matter of moderation,” Dante drawled with a hard look at Leonas.

“Why would I want to fuck in moderation?”

“You won’t ever talk like that in front of your mother.”

“She knows I’m not a virgin anymore. There are no virgins in the mafia.” I could tell he was riling up his father on purpose. I remembered times when I was like that too.

“One drink,” Dante clipped.

Leonas winked at me. Dad handed him a tumbler, and we finally clinked glasses.

“Whoo,” Leonas exclaimed, letting out a hiss after downing the drink in one gulp.

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 also despised 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 the accident, 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.