Page 10 of Impenitent Claim

Isabella was mine.

We should be driving toward Chicago right now. Instead, I made a terrible miscalculation. Watching Isabella being trotted around as a prize made the truth painfully obvious. The Italian mobs of the East Coast would raze heaven and earth to find her.With their connections, it was only a matter of time before the Rinaldi Famiglia came to Chicago and fought me to bring her back. I couldn’t have her live like a fugitive, neither could I bring trouble to the band of men I considered my brothers. While I’d kept the bratva out of this adventure, I couldn’t keep war from their door if it descended on our city.

It was all messed up now. There could be no contact with her past—even her brother. That was likely to be the hardest obstacle, but the changes I was contemplating made it absolutely necessary.

I took out the final bag of trash, lingering as the other hired caterers hurried to their vehicles, departing in a stream out the service drive. I might be a large man, but no one noticed me working as a servant in the palace of underworld royalty. As easy as it was to move amongst them without drawing attention, it was even easier to slip away and become one with the shadows. The mundane work of serving brought clarity to my thoughts. A new plan formed from the old. I could still take Isabella back to Chicago, but only after I made sure no one would come looking for her. There was one sure way to do that. No one would look for the dead amongst the living. While it was a simple adjustment, it would take time to organize the details.

A few more days, and then we’ll be together, rusalka.

Something began to flutter in my stomach. It was as if I’d swallowed a nest of insects, and their tiny wings beat wildly inside. Was this what excitement felt like? The feeling people talked about having toward things like birthdays or Christmas? It was a new sensation, not entirely unpleasant.

Ghosting to the back of the house, I slipped into the shadows. The few guests who remained were sequestered to common areas in the front. Guards were stationed at the main exits, leaving alternative routes in and out of the palace available for use. The mostly empty duffel bag remained hidden where I’dplaced it upon first arriving at the mansion. I grabbed the box of chocolates from the bag. She might as well have these, since they were intended for her enjoyment during the drive back to Chicago.

I pushed into her room, and it was as if I were transported to another world. Like every good soldier, I believed in certain superstitions. But this place held a more powerful kind of energy. It was almost like magic existed here.

Fitting that such a being as my siren held the power of enchantment. She’d cast a spell on me, one I never wanted to escape.

While Isabella slumbered softly, I took a close look around the space. It was at odds with the glitter and flashiness of the party. The muted colors evoked a sense of calm and peace. Earlier this evening, the mafia princess of the Rinaldi Mafia had painted a breathtaking picture with her wide smile and timeless charm. But here, sleeping, this was the real beauty behind the disguise. There was nothing ordinary about this woman.

My gaze slid to the two roses in the vase beside her bed. Something about the sight of them unsettled me. The box of chocolates likewise pulsed in my hand. They were…lacking. These were the typical gifts she no doubt received from men who didn’t know her. The gesture was completely unimaginative, and these paltry gifts wouldn’t communicate my true feelings.

The muscles of my jaw tightened. I rolled my neck, the tensions snapping and popping.

No, if I wanted her to see me as a true suitor, I needed to go above and beyond what any other man had ever done.

And I had the advantage over any other man. I was here, in her room, the hallowed hall where she kept her private things. Her favorite brands and preferences were lined on the shelves for me to study. If I was going to leave a favorable impression, and show her my feelings were serious, I needed to leave a mark.

So I immediately began to remedy my mistake.

Walking around her room, I compiled a list of everything I knew about this woman.

Isabella enjoyed flowers, but the kind that were framed on her wall. I studied them, realizing they weren’t all painted, some had been real flowers once upon a time and had been squished and pressed flat to preserve their beauty. Bits of fabric, scraps of paper, and scribbled notes created a mysterious collage. Tiny, twinkly lights arched over her reading area. And the books, so many books. I pulled out several to have a sense of what she liked.

The fancy chocolates would never do, and neither would more of the red roses.

I might have blundered once, but that was because I didn’t know her well. The more time I spent haunting her, the more I realized I had to tailor these gestures to her.

Easy enough.

Isabella would see that I cared by the gifts I brought her. She would never choose to be with a monster like me. No. She’d made that quite clear by running away after a brief flirtation with the dark. She’d come here to be with the soft, pretty prince of the mafia. Well…she tempted a monster, and I’d hunted her to the ends of the world to bring her back.

There would be no escape for her.

But that didn’t mean I wanted her to feel trapped. That was where discovering the perfect gifts, giving her everything she wanted, would matter most. I might not know the details about her, but I was going to spend the rest of my life learning. Until I could fake her death and take her away from this palace, I would come back to her room as often as it took to memorize every piece of the siren’s lair. I would know her every like and dislike, how she took her morning coffee—I already knew she didn’t drink tea—what foods comforted her, and what hobbies sparkedher interest. She would find it all in Chicago, when we arrived, and she would never feel like my prisoner or captive.

But she would be mine.

The chocolates found their way into the trash downstairs, but I left the roses in the vase, because, well…they were beautiful. And she’d placed them in the principal viewing spot, the first thing she’d see upon waking. But no more. Not red roses. Other flowers, like the ones in the picture frames on her walls. I would leave whatever sweet or salty treats she enjoyed. And I would find larger, more meaningful gifts as well. I didn’t want to scare my beauty when she discovered I’d been following her. Watching her.Dreamingabout her. These little tokens of my affection would hopefully soften the shock.

Chapter 7 – Isabella

The slim bottle of white rum was empty. It had been a container I’d nursed for the last three weeks, having pilfered it at a small famiglia event. The bottle was tiny enough to hide in the secret compartment in my nightstand along with the handgun my father gave me. I’d drank the last finger of it right before curling under the covers to read a particularly spicy tale about a girl named Cara and the masked predator who haunted her during Halloween.

The dark romance novella kept me up past my bedtime with only the forbidden cocktail to keep me company.

But just because I finished the last of the rum did not mean I was toasted and imagining things.

I was wide awake now, having slept for probably forty minutes at the most. The cotton feeling on my tongue told me I probably had snored. Which was beyond humiliating.

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