Page 17 of Unruly

“You pay for it because that’s a risk of the business, Mrs. Donati.”

Catherine sat a bit straighter in her chair. “Sure, but what if someone else could get us that product, even at a slightly higher cost, but with guarantees of perfect, unsullied kilos? Might that be a better option for us than—”

“Your wine, sir.”

The waiter approached their table, cutting off the rest of whatever Catherine was going to say. She waited as he poured a glass for Giuseppe, and then moved to pour one for her.

“No, but grazie,” she said, putting a hand over her glass. “Water would be great, though.”

The waiter looked between the two of them.

“This is a five-thousand-dollar bottle of wine,” Giuseppe said, his expression blank as he stared at Catherine. “It comes from my own personal winery. It’s forty-year old wine I had sent in specially for this dinner.”

Catherine felt a knot rise in her throat.

She had offended him by refusing, clearly.

Problem was, Catherine didn’t drink. Not for pleasure, social convention, or in private. She simply didn’t drink because of her history with depression, anxiety, and self-medicating. She was not about to explain that to a stranger, though. She also wouldn’t drink simply to soothe this man’s desire to have his many egos stroked.

“My apologies,” Catherine said, looking up to the waiter, “but please, only water.”

The waiter nodded, and quickly left. Giuseppe wasted no time downing his entire glass of wine before setting it to the table a little harder than necessary.

“I assumed you would be enough like your mother to make this dinner worth my time,” Giuseppe said gruffly as he loosened his tie. “Unfortunately, while interesting, you are definitely not your mother, Catherine.”

This time, it was Catherine who took offense.

“Is that so?”

“Your mother would never challenge my business, never mind refuse my hospitality.”

“My mother has had no reason to challenge your business until recently, and it’s nothing more than happenstance that it’s me sitting here instead of her,” Catherine tossed back. “And choosing not to drink while I do business isn’t exactly rejecting your hospitality, is it?”

“To me, most assuredly.”

Great.

Something told Catherine this meeting was going to go downhill from here, and fast.

“Could we at least get back to discussing business, then?” Catherine asked.

The man coughed out a harsh laugh. “No, I think we’re done here, Catherine Donati. You see, I think you had a good idea with something you said to me. If you have someone else to supply your Three Families as well as your own ventures, then I suggest you take that offer. You will not find a good partner with me in Italy any longer.”

Crap.

Shit.

Fuck.

Yep.

Downhill fast.

This was exactly why Catherine had not wanted to do this meeting alone. She did not know this man’s nuances, or his preferences. Her mother’s warnings about him, and suggestions, had done nothing to help her. She still fucked it up.

“I assumed your mother knew what she was doing when she let me know you would be the one handling this meeting on her behalf when she called me yesterday,” Giuseppe said.

“Wait, what?”