Page 15 of Impenitent Claim

It was out of character. I knew it, and the look in her eye confirmed it. But I was hoping I could play off the sudden outburst as the natural reaction fueled by panic. Closing my eyes, I focused on calming my racing heart.

I’m a bubbleheaded ditz. I’m an airhead. It’s too dangerous to show intelligence.

I can never fight back.

Gathering the strength necessary to continue playing this hated game, I blinked and looked around the empty space.

Why couldn’t I be the fae queen, summon my army, and smite the men calling the shots? I sighed. Like the terrible hydra, if I removed one threat, more would creep out of the mob to take its place. It seemed the only way to be free would be to crush this nightmare completely.

Too bad I didn’t have a rare and awesome power at my fingertips.

With a sigh, I scooped my tote from the ground, and cradling my precious flower, I followed the herd out to the sidewalk. The bodyguards cleared a path through the restaurant. Patrons stared after us in alarm. In the distance, sirens wailed. Not caring to see what happened, I allowed my guards to escort me to our waiting SUV.

“No, fratello, I need you to come down here and deal with this—now!” Cecilia screeched into her phone, the high pitch carrying across the chaos. The orcish bodyguards flanked her, and I made the mistake of meeting the one’s gummy stare. A wave ofdisgust made my stomach flip. “The fire suppression system was disabled. That’s why the sprinklers didn’t go off.”

Her words banished the unease evoked by her guards. That nefarious detail sent a chill down my spine.

But…there could be a logical explanation for that.

Like the stalker and his tokens of affection?

I spun the stem of the sunflower. It would have been the first thing I noticed when sitting down to the tedious meal. That was why I was certain it hadn’t been there before I went to the bathroom. It was placed there—for me.

It’s a gift.A small, but very thoughtful gift. Something a best friend would leave for me.

Pursing my lips, I climbed into the SUV and considered my original explanation for the sudden appearance of the presents and trinkets. My fiancé wasn’t subtle or romantic. He would give me a gift that fit the social conventions of our status such as jewelry or expensive purses. My dork of a brother wouldn’t think of anyone but himself. An otherworldly being haunting my nights? Yeah, I didn’t live in a smutty fairytale—it wasn’t that. A member of the famiglia who wanted me to be friendly toward their cause made the most sense.

Someone was plotting something, and I was key to their plans.

But it would never work. I would never side with their agenda and risk the don’s wrath falling upon my brother. Whoever was behind this needed to stop. They were going to land themselves in hot water, possibly bringing trouble to me as well. While I enjoyed the small presents of friendship, I couldn’t have friends. And I would tell them, just as soon as I found out who.

Leaning back in my seat, I scanned the crowd of ladies. They were most of the women who’d been at the dress fitting and the don’s supper party. I needed to make a list and narrow down who was responsible.

The flower spun between my fingers. The cheery face seemed to encourage me. I already knew the symbolism of a sunflower was strength, good fortune, and loyalty. They were given as reminders of hope and optimism in difficult times—and if that wasn’t my current state of being, I didn’t know what was.

Was there a secret message behind the sunny bloom? Or was someone merely brightening my life with joy and positivity, and I shouldn’t read too much into the gesture?

As the driver crept through the mess of vehicles and merged onto the road, I closed my eyes and examined the entire meal. No one showed an ounce of genuine friendlessness to me. If they weren’t complimenting me, they were watching me with hawkish intentions. While it was true I was playing a part, acting every second of every day, it was hard to believe they were too. I knew these women; I'd grown up with them.

They weren’t my friends.

It was easier to think they wanted me to burn.

A chill broke over my skin. What if the fire hadn’t been an accident? What if one of us, all of us, or me specifically had been the target? I rubbed my arms, suddenly freezing. The few bites of the meal churned in my stomach. My gaze dropped to the sunflower. A stroke of good fortune—I had to believe that.

Chapter 9 – Ilya

The knife flipped over and over through the air before landing in my palm. It wasn’t meant for her. But I needed something to hold so that I didn’t reach out and take what was mine.

The stylized beauty of the room paled in comparison to the vision before me. There, nestled into the white blanket, lay the woman who had her claws dug deep in my chest. I hadn’t anticipated the strength of her presence when I saw her for the first time a mere fortnight ago. I expected it to dissipate with each encounter as I grew accustomed to being near her.

It hadn’t.

Isabella Rinaldi was classically beautiful, bordering on the divine. Sculptors would go mad trying to capture the lines of her face. Painters would fail to recreate her image. A photograph? It would be dull compared to the real flesh and blood siren slumbering in front of me. Her dark hair fanned out against the pillow, framing her face in soft waves. Each rise and fall of her chest was a soothing rhythm, her breathing gentle and steady. Her skin, kissed by the faint moonlight, seemed to glow with an ethereal radiance.

It was impossible to deny obsession at this proximity.

This beautiful creature was mine, and I would have her.

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