Page 14 of Impenitent Claim

Stepping into the bustling front of house was like coming into another world. Disaster brewed just feet away, and yet everyone sat at their lunch as if nothing was wrong.

I should leave.

But a glance at the front door had me hesitating. The women of the famiglia might not save me if I was drowning, but that didn’t mean I wanted them to burn alive. Besides, their deathswouldn’t solve my problems, and I didn’t need those nightmares plaguing my mind.

Hating my sense of duty, I hurried back into the private dining room.

The poor owner! I winced for him. Crumbling his kitchen hat in between his nervous fingers, Raphael was on the receiving end of a lashing by the forked tongue strega. I approached, but a waiter scooted around me, tugged on the chef’s coat, and stammered about a situation. Relief spread across the chef’s pudgy face as he followed the waiter from the room.

“Isabella, sit down,” Maria insisted, brows drawn together in a quizzical look.

I opened my mouth.

“Are you deaf?” Cecilia chirped, teeth bared behind her smile.

Maybe I should have let her burn.

Folding into my seat, I determined to watch how this morbid comedy played out. I picked up my glass of white. The acidic tang of the Pinot Grigio spread over my tongue. Maybe we would all burn, and I wouldn’t have to go through with this farce of a marriage.

I couldn’t actually die. There was someone who needed me. Alone, Gio was as defenseless as a puppy amongst wolves. He might yap and think he had teeth, but the ravenous fiends would tear him apart for sport.

“I think that’s enough of that, honey.” Cecilia kicked me under the table.

Glaring at her, I refused to budge. I took another long sip. She would have to pry the glass from my hands. I watched her debate how much of a scene she wanted to make. This second, no one was watching us. But that could change in a flash.

“That will be your last,” she hissed past her forced smile.

“There’s a fire in the kitchen,” I drawled, loud enough for several pairs of ears to hear. “That’s why Raphael had to leave so suddenly.”

Her dark brown eyes flared wide. “What?!”

A hush fell over the group. The ripple of panic was a welcome change.

Cecilia cleared her throat. “I’m sure you were mistaken. The sprinkler system would turn on before we were in any real danger.”

“I’m sure I was,” I agreed. “But you’d better go see whatactuallyhappened. The chef did run off in a hurry.”

Murmurs circled the table.

Pursing her lips, Cecilia rose and marched out of the room.

Soft laughter bubbled up my throat as I reached for the bottle of white chilling in the marble holder. My hand froze halfway to the container. The table arrangements were soft, pale flowers. Snapdragons, light greens for fillers, and delicate white miniature flowers. But in the vase closest to my seat was a large bloom.

A large yellow bloom with a black center.

I plucked the sunflower from the arrangement, my fingers shaking.

“Evacuate! Run for your lives.” Cecilia’s shrill call sent a fresh rush of panic through the women.

The tip of my finger traced over the sunflower. I was ninety percent certain that hadn’t been in the vase before I went to the bathroom. It was right there! Front and center. I wouldn’t have missed it. Especially with the wine right next to it.

I twirled the thick stem between my fingers. It was beautiful, alluring. One of my favorite flowers, they were the predominant symbols decorating my bookish reading nook. Was it ridiculous to think it was placed there for me? A sign I couldn’t fathom the meaning of.

Someone tugged at my shoulder. I swatted at them. When the hand reached to yank the flower from my grasp, I shot to my feet, rounding on the panic-stricken wife of a wealthy mafioso.

“Touch me again and I’ll break your wrist,” I snapped.

Signora Eminati’s eyes widened, and she lifted her hands, rattling a string of Italian appeals to heaven to save her from the demons and devils. She grabbed her daughter Rosa and fled.

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