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“It’s okay; you can try it.”
Everybody liked it when it was Bruno’s team’s turn to host Passione’s yearly Christmas mixer—everybody but Leone, who considered it nothing but forced socialisation.
But even worse than strangers encroaching his territory were the strange pangs of nostalgia during the evening’s bacchanalia.
Whoever put Bruno in charge of mulling the wine?
The hot, heavy hazes rising from the saucepan almost transported him to darker times, but the nutmeg and orange peel kept him grounded.
His careful curiosity didn’t go amiss.
“A little bit—in an espresso cup…”
Bruno smiled. “I promise you’re safe.”