Page 108 of Impenitent Claim

My heart pattered against my ribs. Yet again, this man showed his determination to knowme. It gave me the courage to open up, to share the piece of myself that no one knew.

“You asked what I was thinking about?” I murmured, hiding my words behind the glass bottle of bubbling water. The carbonated liquid slid down my throat, teasing and tickling the words that were already struggling to find a way out into the world. “When I was nine, I told my mother I wanted to live in a little house, down by the sea. I drew out this whole future, dreaming it up. And she…squashed it.”

The spectral presence, although silent, was steady and constant. The touch slid up and down my spine, tracing the gold snake I painstakingly sewed to the gown.

“I learned that I wouldn’t have any of my dreams come true. My future was mapped out.” The story tumbled from my lips. Finally released, there was no stopping it. “I couldn’t choose where I wanted to live, how I could live, or even who I lived with. I was just a child, but my mother broke my heart. I’ve been trying to put the pieces back together ever since.”

His fingers stilled.

I summoned all the courage in my soul to push the next words out. “Finding you was the best damn thing that ever happened to me, Ilya. You’re a different path, one I chose for myself.”

Lowering the bottle of water, I turned slightly to the side and flicked a glance in his direction so that I could look him in the eye as I added, “I’m sorry you thought I was sad, but the truth is, I’ve never been happier. And I’ll choose you, every time.”

With that, I wandered away. The risk of being caught was too great. As I made my way back to the group, a shock of dark brown hair appeared next to my soon-to-be ex-fiancé. A fond smile played over my lips. Did Gio dream of freedom? Did he even know that he could? My gaze flicked over the older boy who could now pursue philosophy without fear of his father’s wrath. Alonzo dreamt of a different life, and now I would give that to him.

From the corner of my eye, I caught movement directly behind my fiancé. Heart leaping to my throat, my gaze slammed into Cosimo’s. There was an unmistakable glint that pulsed deep in those flashing brown eyes.

It chilled my blood.

Slowly, Cosimo shifted his gaze, staring at something behind me before returning a look to me. One thick brow arched. Unable to stop myself, I looked back over my shoulder.

Ilya stood beside the archway, legs apart and hand clasping his opposite wrist. The perfect bodyguard, he watched over the proceedings. There was nothing unusual about his presence, except that he was only partially in costume. Whereas his employer wore period clothing to match the theme of our group, Ilya wore a simple black and white tux with the addition of a silvery Venetian Carnival mask.

Panic made my mind jump to all sorts of terrible conclusions. But by some miracle, I slammed an indifferent front over my features. I didn’t look back at Cosimo, finding a wealthy banker to greet. This woman was richer than several small countries and had a penchant for horse racing. I rambled about the weather ruining the final races of the season. When I risked a peep back in the direction of my group, Cosimo was boasting with Gio, while Alonzo quietly tied his mask in place.

He didn’t see anything. How could he? I’d been beyond careful to conceal my lips when I spoke, or barely moved them at all.Just because Ilya appeared and rooted himself where I’d been standing meant absolutely nothing.

I rejoined our group right as we were called forward to descend the stairs. Alonzo offered to tie my mask, but I declined. My monster wouldn’t like him touching me. Alonzo’s life was spared, and I intended to keep it that way.

But my senses weren’t tuned to the boy at my side. It was the underboss’s son who I kept watching. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge me. Yet the words he’d spoken to me during that ill-fated mass, when I couldn’t control my allergies, rang in my head.

He doesn’t know I spoke to Ilya!No matter how many times I screamed it to myself, the words wouldn’t convince me. So I made a terrible, yet freeing choice: Cosimo needed to die. Immediately. If my monster couldn’t do it yet, I would find a way to take the slithering pest out permanently.

Chapter 41 – Isabella

Nothing like the stuff of fantasy books, let alone fairytales, this ball was painfully boring. Alonzo would have danced with me, but that would require close proximity and definite touching. Not wanting to evoke the wrath of the jealous spectre, I sat out the dancing, feigning exhaustion. Because of the ever-watchful strega, I couldn’t indulge in the food and drink. Parties with the rich and famous weren’t fun without booze, plain and simple.

The only thing left to do was plot.

I drummed my fingers into the table. My revenge decided on, I schemed how best to rid the world of the young Fabrizi. With the extra security measures, it would be tricky. If only I had a more deadly poison at my disposal. No one would see that coming, and the guards would be unable to save him. The underboss was paranoid, and while the don refused to show it, he was worried too. The capos were dead. Many of our soldiers had fallen. Those who remained rumbled loudly about leadership. If tonight’s social obligation wasn’t imperative, the men would be working around the clock to keep their hold over the famigliathey’d stolen. While I couldn’t prove they killed my parents—although the suspicion was sound—the crown should have gone to my brother.

Or me.

The pretenders’ rule was coming to an end. And they sensed it.

That knowledge gave me a fiendish delight.

Now if we can only dispose of the young one—here. Immediately!Cosimo and Gio disappeared shortly after dinner was served. Now it was going on midnight, and I hadn’t seen them. Cosimo needed to die. I wanted the worry of what he was saying and doing with my brother to end. And I couldnotrisk having him say anything even remotely suspicious about Ilya.

Taking a deep gulp of stuffy perfume, I blew out a long breath. This stale atmosphere, the hours of inactivity, the pinch in my stomach—tonight was taking its toll.

A jitter of nervousness buzzed through my veins. I could do it. The steak knife on the table glistened approvingly.

It was All Hallows Eve, for crying out loud. The perfect time to hunt the blackened soul of the damned.

Mind made up, I slid the knife discreetly off the table, tucking it in my purse. I retied my mask in place. There—I was the Goddess of Fury and the Queen of the Seven Circles. Rising from the chair, I excused myself from the snobby flock of hens Cecilia attracted. I pretended not to hear the strega’s questions as to where I was going but moved in the direction of the hall where the bathrooms were in case my intentions were called into question.

The noise of the gathering faded. A deep, cleansing breath filled my lungs. I realized that I was close to having a headache from the strain of pretending the whole night. Plucking a tab of ibuprofen from my bag, I reluctantly realized I had no more candy to help swallow it.

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