Page 116 of Impenitent Claim

“And you’ve been making back door deals with him!” Alonzo protested. “Father, they’re scheming. Can’t you see that?”

The don remained silent, watching the proceedings unfold.

Small details settled into place. The malicious glint in Cosimo’s eyes. The stern hatred in the don’s. They wore most of their costumes from the ball, which made me wonder what time it was. The underboss was missing, but I didn’t have time to ask where he was before the accusation was laid before me.

“She’s been having an affair with the Russian street fighter my father is obsessed with.” Cosimo lifted a challenging brow, daring me to contradict him.

“You don’t have any proof,” my fiancé protested.

“Well, why don’t you look her in the eye and ask her,” the hateful spawn dared.

Don Aldo cleared his throat, cutting off whatever outburst his sister was about to unleash. “Cosimo laid a very compelling case. You were seen in close proximity to the associate tonight. And then, for forty minutes, no one could find either of you. This is your only chance to tell us the truth, Isabella. Where were you?”

Experiencing mind blowing, soul searing passion.

No—not just passion. Intimacy. Something far more powerful; something they could never take away.

How could they understand? They would only see my actions one way, so this beautiful thing I had with the spectre of darkness was mine. Precious and undeniable. I wouldn’t let them have it.

“I took a break from the tiresome drama of society to ramble about the historical house,” I stated. “Did you know that Consuelo Vanderbilt married a Churchill?”

The boom of the don’s palm slamming into the wood of his desk reverberated through my bones. I closed my eyes, knowing my time had come. I chose myself, and now Gio would suffer. Guilt flickered through my mind, but it wasn’t as piercing as the deeper pain of knowing I wouldn’t have my happily-ever-after.

“Were you with the Russian?” the don demanded.

I met his gaze, refusing to back down. There was no point hiding who I was. They couldn’t cow me or push me around. “No, signore. I was not.”

It was a lie, but I didn’t feel like giving them the truth to twist and warp.

“My father will be here any minute with the Moskal dog in chains,” Cosimo declared. “We’ll see if he’s touched our princess as well and make an example of him.”

“He has nothing to add to this conversation. We’ve never spoken,” I fired back, enjoying the shift of unease deep in his malicious brown eyes.

“Oh, really?” the strega sneered. “Well, we have a doctor coming.”

Her words were a dash of ice to my veins. I managed to hide my surprise as I slid my gaze to her. “What for? Is someone hurt?”

“I know you were with him. The way the barbarian looked at you.” Spittle flew from Cosimo’s mouth.

“We’re going to confirm your virginity,” Don Aldo said coldly.

The hell if I was going to have some doctor prod me! That threat was the last straw. I pulled myself up straight and let another piece of the truth free. “Now, why didn’t you ask that, Signor Bruno? I would have told you that I lost my virginity a long time ago.”

The insults were like a howling storm’s sharp caress. I braced myself, letting the terrible things the three of them screamed, roared, and shouted slide off me like water droplets. It was Alonzo who I looked to, his reaction the one I cared about.

The smallest of smiles played on his lips. It was there and gone, but in that brief second, we exchanged that comradery that bound us in friendship.

“It’s safe to say the wedding is canceled,” Cecilia sniffed. “We won’t have your tainted blood mingling with ours, puttana.”

Lifting my hands, I offered her a shrug. “I don’t feel bad, and nothing you can say or do will make me. My parents would have approved of my choices, if they lived long enough. That’s all that matters.”

Don Aldo threw back a tumbler of booze that hadn’t toppled off his desk when he struck it. “Your parents were idiots.”

“Is that why you killed them?” I demanded.

There wasn’t even a flicker in his face as he looked at me. “I wasn’t part of that plot, Isabella, but seeing how things played out, I wish it had been my knife that was planted in your father’s chest, not the impact from the collision.”

I planted my fists at my sides. “Very well then, we see where we stand. What’s next?”

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