Page 107 of Impenitent Claim

“Isabella looks fine; it’s the boy who looks like a damn string bean,” the don muttered to his sister. Louder, he barked, “We’ll be late. Hurry up, you two.”

I bristled. Alonzo was dedicated to weightlifting. Was it his fault his muscles stayed lean instead of bulking? But with the ever-present reputation that we all were expected to uphold, the poor boy would never be strong enough to lift his end of the weight.

The don opened the door, and that was the end of the conversation. For right now. The strega shot me a look thatpromised this wasn’t over. Just because I didn’t want to look like a puritanical lady from the 1700s with the high lace neckline to match her…I sighed. Ilya couldn’t take me away soon enough.

As I looked over my brother and fiancé, I wondered for the thousandth time what would happen to them once we were free of the famiglia. I would push for my brother to come with us. He could finish high school, and then lead a normal life. Alonzo? My monster was jealous and wouldn’t like the younger man tagging along. The best thing for him would be to enroll in a university. He could study the philosophy and other academics he was so fond of—maybe become a professor! With fake I.D.s, we could go anywhere and be anything, so long as we stayed away from the eastern cities where we could be recognized.

The best part—neither of them would be involved in the criminal underworld any longer.

Thoughts of a future where I could make my own choices, carve my own destiny, occupied my mind on the drive to the ball and while we began the tedious song and dance of rubbing elbows with the elites. There was a costume competition associated with the grand march, and only the higher ticket holders were participating in the parade to begin the evening’s festivities. Our party, of course, had one of those coveted tickets. Whichever socialite cooked up this mad idea actually showed a stroke of genius. The exclusive ticket holders were in high spirits, comparing their costumes while they waited to descend upon the less fortunate guests already in the ballroom. Our costumes weren’t bad, but we hadn’t spent nearly the insane time and money that others had to make theirs. Hollywood had been summoned for over half the participants. Mingling on the second story with groups of politicians, businessmen, and other social movers and shakers, I couldn’t help but feel relief that I would be leaving these circles.

A quiet life with Ilya.That satisfying idea was already going to great lengths to heal the part of my soul I thought was broken beyond repair.

My gaze roved over the assembly area. This historic house was normally a museum but was extra festive with the Halloween décor. What I wouldn’t give to break away, ramble through the exhibits with the low, ambient glow of a lantern as my guide. The grand architecture was the tycoon’s statement to the world a century ago, and even with my imagination, I wouldn’t picture this place as a home. Mausoleum, sure. The dead likely crawled from their crypts most nights and prowled these halls after the last visitor left to make sure their worldly legacy stayed intact. What would they do tonight, when the veil between life and death was said to be at its thinnest? Dance with us at the ball?

The fanciful thoughts occupied my mind, distracting me from the tedious wait. But imagination failed me the moment the underboss arrived. Gio broke from our group to disappear with Cosimo. They were the only young members of the famiglia here and naturally were drawn to one another.

Anger trickled through my veins, and I shuffled in place. “I’m going to go find a bottle of water,” I said, since declaring my intent to find something stronger wouldn’t go over well.

“We’ll be announced for the grand entrance in five minutes,” Cecilia snapped. “There isn’t time.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Alonzo protested. “Plus, the boys are already inside.”

The strega huffed. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to win best costume with Isabella looking as unauthentic as she does.”

I hurried away. There was a long table set up here with refreshments for those waiting to walk down the sweeping staircase and be admired by the gathering.

A voice, low and sensual, brushed across the bare skin of my arm. “‘Why do villains always wear black?’ she asked, to which the king of hell replied, ‘Better to hide the blood with, witch.’”

“Did you just quote my second favorite fantasy book?” I breathed.

A low murmur of assent brushed against me like a sensual tendril.

“Clever man, quoting my favorite things,” I teased. “You should read it, though, it’s really good.”

His voice turned to velvet. “I did. For you.”

My poor heart was going to burst from the sensation of being adored. It was all that I could do to draw in a ragged inhale. Let it go. And try for another. The bottle of water shook in my hands, a bit splashing down my chin and onto my chest. I gave up trying to drink until I had something solid to brace me.

Taking three steps backward, I placed myself in the archway, leaning against the frame. No one would see the phantasmal presence hiding behind me in the shadows, and from all appearances, it would seem that I was watching the crowd.

“What is my bewitching beauty thinking?” the darkness rasped.

“How I can’t wait to get out of this dress,” I said, barely moving my lips.

Ilya hummed, the sound deep and rough. “Really? You seemed…sad.”

Had I? What had I been thinking about when he saw me just now?Oh…right.

“Tell me,” Ilya coaxed. Although he was hidden by the arching wall, his hand came behind me to brush along the golden snake curving down my spine. “I saw this, followed it to the website, and lost myself to looking at all thefandomartifacts.”

“Is that the only book you read?” I asked a touch breathlessly.

“No,” he chuckled darkly. “I’ve been consuming the stories you like in audiobooks while I train.”

A pleasant surprise shot straight through me. I would have rounded on him, giving away this illicit encounter, if his touch hadn’t hardened against my lower spine.

“Easy,” he growled.

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