Page 62 of A Touch of Fate

Three weeks sober and a week as Underboss, today marked the day I’d have to gather all of my strength to resist the need for a drink.

Our newest club was swarming with police officers.

On the day of its grand opening, no less.

I had gotten a call from the club manager thirty minutes ago and came as quickly as I could.

I found him talking to the famous—according to my manager—DJ we had hired for way too much money and a stash of cocaine.

I joined them in front of the back entrance where I’d parked my car.

“I can’t have bad press,” the DJ said.

“You agreed to the job, and you will give people what they want, a fucking amazing show, or the press will be all over the photos of you snorting cocaine from the tits of our best prostitutes.”

He paled, then stalked back inside the building. I shook hands with the manager, an ambitious son of one of our Captains. “The mayor is in the front, showing his face for the cameras.”

“The police won’t find anything.”

My manager nodded.

I headed inside, then crossed the huge club past dozens of police officers turning everything over.

It would take a lot of manpower to put everything back in place before the opening in six hours.

I caught the eyes of two senior officers on our payroll among a few others.

They had warned us an hour before the operation so we had time to hide any compromising material.

I found the mayor in front of the main entrance of the club, speaking to the press.

He was young, very ambitious, and had the looks that could catapult him into much higher political positions if he did it right.

“Mayor,” I said with a hard smile. “This could be considered harassment. Is this because my family supported your opponent in the last election?”

He smoothed his dark blond hair back with a fake smile. “This is me making good on my promise. I told the voters I would clean the streets, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“This is a nightclub. You won’t find anything that’ll make these streets any safer.”

“We’ll see. We both know you aren’t a mere businessman, Mr. Mione, so stop pretending.”

My smile became threatening as I stepped closer to him.

“You would know all about pretending, wouldn’t you?

” He was a hardliner and propagated traditional family values in a very adamant way, which wasn’t too far from the values the Outfit upheld, but I knew his interest in women was nonexistent.

I personally didn’t care if someone fucked guys or women, but I cared about ambitious politicians ruining my business.

Something flickered in his eyes, then he gave me a terse smile and glanced at his watch.

“I have more important matters to deal with.”

“I’m sure,” I drawled and pushed my hands into my pockets, then watched him drive away. I gritted my teeth and returned to the club.

My manager was at the bar, shaking his head over a few liquor bottles that had shattered on the floor, thanks to careless police officers. I stopped beside him but regretted it immediately when the strong odor of bourbon and martini wafted into my nose.

“I need a drink, what about you?” he asked.

I stiffened and shook my head. My phone rang at that moment, and I picked up. “There’s a big fight between Made Men in my grandparents’ restaurant,” Renato said.

“I’ll head there.”

It was only a ten-minute drive from where I was. “Make sure everything is ready for tonight,” I told the manager before I left the club. I’d have to discuss with Dad how to keep the mayor in check. I didn’t want him to start investigating more.

When I pulled up in front of the Cantina, one of the front windows was broken, and I could hear screams and shooting inside. I pulled my own gun. I hadn’t thought it was this serious. Dammit, what was going on?

I ducked my head and ran toward the front door, then peered in. Two of my soldiers were caught in a shooting match, one hidden behind the bar, the other behind an overturned table. I could see Renato’s grandfather peering out of the kitchen, a gun in hand.

“Put your weapons down now!” I ordered. “It’s me, Samuel.”

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 cried over 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. ”

“You didn’t drink. That’s all that matters,” I said. I knew more battles would follow. Most of them would get easier over time, some not.