Page 13 of Impenitent Claim

With a sigh, I poked at the overcooked vegetables. The spring semester last year was supposed to be me enjoying my illicit romance in the Windy City. I wasn’t promised to anyone, and my father was going to let me have a say in my marriage after college. It was very generous and open-minded of him. I knew that. But still, I grew up knowing the eligible boys, and none of them struck my fancy. So I chose my first lover, vowing to make the most of our time together—which ended up being far more brief than I would have liked.

Now I was trying to find anything nice to say about the poorly cooked samples that would be served at my wedding. Sure that no one was looking, I flicked a veggie that could have been a zucchini once upon a time onto the napkin on my lap, where I promptly dumped it on the floor.

“Cecilia, these are a little overcooked, don’t you think?” Maria spoke in an undertone, nudging the strega with her elbow.

I didn’t dare look directly across the table at the matrons. This was my life, pretending to enjoy the company of women who wouldn’t save me if I was drowning.

Cecilia whispered something that I didn’t catch. Lifting my gaze, I focused on reading their lips as they continued to converse. Cecilia had three unplucked chin hairs. They danced as she spoke. It was highly entertaining to see the witch coming out of her shell.

“Please tell Raphael that I would like to speak with him,” Cecilia commanded the tuxedoed waiter.

The obedient penguin scooted out of the restaurant’s private room to track down the chef.

That poor man.He was in for it now.

It was the perfect time to excuse myself. I didn’t want to hear the tongue-lashing Cecilia was going to give the chef. Plus, I needed to make my escape to the bathroom and dispose of the evidence of last night’s fun. But first, I flicked more veggies off my plate, this time tossing them away from my seat so there wouldn’t be a pile of food around only my chair.

The air exchange kicked on, a fresh breeze blowing softly against my back.

“Isabella….”

Gooseflesh broke out over my arms, bringing back the rush of excitement I’d spent the whole morning suppressing.

The nocturnal events flickered through my mind. The shadowy encounter had to have been a dream. Especially since my sleep had been filled with a monstrous spectre. I knew two things with complete certainty: Drinking rum before bed with a dark Halloween novella had happened, and after that, I took off into the wooded back stretch of the estate. But everything else? It blended with the images from the deep slumber. The only evidence from last night was the empty rum bottle that needed hiding this morning. It was concealed in the purse at my feet, and I planned to toss it in the garbage in the bathroom.

There was no travel journal, scrapbook accessories, or camera that printed mini photos. That part I must have dreamt.

It was quite possible I imagined the conversation under the shelter of the slumbering trees. It wouldn’t be the first time my brain was overly active when properly stimulated.

Was the voice in my head? A product of my loneliness and isolation?

If I tried, really hard, I could envision him lurking in the shadows, right here. Right now!

I need to get some fresh air.

Murmuring to Giulia, who was deep in conversation with Bella on her other side and paid no attention to me, I scooted outof my seat and fled the private dining room. The rumble of a full house enjoying lunch greeted me. The other dishes had to be half decent or there wouldn’t be this many patrons filling the restaurant. Granted, many of the tables were filled with the bodyguards of the mob wives and daughters. I nodded to those soldiers I knew as I wove through the tables. Cecilia’s pair of meatheads gummed over their tureens of soup as I scooted past. Bracing myself for their unwanted stares, I was pleasantly surprised they didn’t look up. I must not be as interesting as the hot broth and veg.

At the mouth of the back hall, an eerie presence washed over me. This was neither memory nor imagination. I couldn’t hold back the chills that crackled over my skin.

Not wanting one of the guards to come and ask what was wrong, I forced myself to take a step into the narrow space. The walls were a deep burgundy. Murals were painted to look like plants. The lights were yellow and ambient. And the only doors were for the bathrooms, back office, and the kitchen at the far end. There was nothing spooky about this, and yet I couldn’t stop the feelings with any logical argument.

I’m going insane!I believed in something impossible like an intruder breaking into the house to leave me gifts, when there could be a multitude of explanations for the other small trinkets. It could be Gio. It could be Alonzo. A maid. Hell, maybe a guard. But an intruder? No, that was me chasing ghosts. No one was stupid enough to dare the don’s wrath.

I dashed into the lady’s room, closing the door quickly behind me.

The guest bathroom reeked of fake flowers. I coughed, attempting to breathe through my mouth. Too much wine at lunch wouldn’t give me a headache, but this fake scent would without a shadow of a doubt. Removing the cone lid on the trash, I moved some paper towels, buried the rum bottle, andreached for the stack of clean ones. I crumbled a half dozen more to cover any trace before replacing the lid. After Cecilia moved in with her brother to chaperone the children—her ridiculous description, not mine—I learned quickly to hide everything I did. Candy wrappers, booze bottles, and even the books I read.

I let out a long breath. There. She wouldn’t find this.

I made the mistake of inhaling. Only…it wasn’t fake flowers stinking the air. It was something more sinister. I took another tentative breath. Smoke, heavy and thick.

Abandoning the plan to relieve my full bladder, I tugged open the door. The hall that led to the kitchen was filled with tendrils of pale grey. I ghosted to the swinging doors, pushing them open. Shouts about grease fire rang out from the staff. They were going to put it out and didn’t want the front of house to know.

Something tingled at the base of my neck. A sixth sense fluttered in warning. I turned quickly, but as I swung my gaze back to the restaurant, there was nothing.

“What in the hellisthat?” I muttered.

Throwing one final look into the kitchen, and seeing the flames engulf an entire workstation, I took a quick step back. It was time to leave. But the staff running about with red canisters promised that they had the mess under control. Biting my lip, I turned. I couldn’t shake the feeling. It was as if I was being watched. I took a step in that direction, pulled by the magnetism of the otherworldly presence.

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