Page 23 of Impenitent Claim

Just like all the other times.

If I was being honest, if I wanted to truly examine my feelings, I would have to admit the painful truth. It wasn’t me I wanted to keep from the don’s wrath. Nor Gio either. The thought of the don capturing—of torturing—the spectre…. For what? Bringing me goodies after a hard workout? That wasn’t fair.

No, I had to intercept the ghost again and try to make him see reason.

The thought of seeing him sent a wicked burst tingling down my spine.

“He’s not here to hurt me.” The moment I said it, I realized how ridiculous that assertion sounded. I couldn’t know that!

Yet, as I popped open the top of the box, gazing upon the small chocolate bunt cake with strawberry frosting stripes, I felt it in my soul to be true. Whoever was coming in hereknewme. Our forbidden interactions were more personal than the constant contact with anyone else in the famiglia. And I knew I wasn’t quite ready to put a stop to them.

Whatever business the intruder had with the mob, his kindness and thoughtfulness bought my silence.

***

Registering for gifts should have been a fun experience. It should be something the bride and groom did together, or the bride and her mother. The idea was to select domestic items that could be used when the couple set up house, something Alonzo and I would never do. When my parents died, Signor Bruno and his family quickly moved into the old don’s mansion. It was quite a shock, coming home after abandoning my semester finals to find outsiders living and breathing in our home.

It was too painful to wonder what would have happened if I stayed in Chicago and finished college. My future might have been very different, maybe even full of freedom! If an assassin wasn’t sent to end me. But there was no doubt my brother’s life would likely have been cut short. No, coming back was the right thing to do, and enduring acquaintances living in our home wasn’t the biggest adjustment.

But it was a mockery of the idea of marriage to think Alonzo and I would be setting up our own house. There was no leaving the mansion and the ever-watchful eye of the don—and his witch of a sister.

Still, I had an image to uphold.

With everything else about the wedding falling apart, Cecilia was adamant that we keep up pretenses despite the whispersthat I was cursed. Why else would my father and mother be murdered? Wouldn’t a curse explain the fire at the wedding caterer’s restaurant? The destruction at the florist’s? And the tragic news we received this morning about the officiant!

Their superstitions would have been amusing if it wasn’t making my life unbearable.

The women and matrons brave enough to gather around me cooed and clucked over the bougie items in the home section of the high-end department store. I wandered past the displays, wondering if the ladies of the famiglia were placing bets as to what stroke of ill luck would befall me next. The delicate floral place settings were starting to look alike. We had perfectly good fancy dishes at home that my mother had been serving from for years, rotating the seasonal patterns.

There was an ache in my chest as I looked around the items. Not only would these not go to my own home, but this moment was all wrong. As it always did, thinking of my parents threatened to crack the lid on the stone box where I kept their memories.

An uneasy sigh escaped my lips.

“Everything alright, my dear?” Maria Gianetti asked, not unkindly.

I looked into her eyes and tried to imagine what the days leading up to her own wedding had been like. Did her mother help her pick out fancy dishes and linens? “So many of the wedding activities are a little sad for me. That’s why it’s so nice of you and the others to be here,” I said meekly, letting some of my truer feelings show for once.

If I was happy and upbeat, brushing off their concern, it might raise more questions. These feelings were natural, and while I preferred to grieve in private for what should have been, it lent credibility to my situation to have them see me like this.

“Well, of course, it’s tough,” Maria cooed, wrapping an arm around me. “You poor lamb. First, the caterer’s restaurant burned, and then the frightful incident with the bakery.”

“Freak accidents,” I assured her, even though an inkling in the back of my mind said it was too coincidental to be a mere chance that each piece of this wedding was toppling. It felt as though someone tipped the domino and was waiting in the wings to ensure the rest fell.

Maria tsked her tongue. “You have so much on your plate with this wedding….”

Whatever else she murmured was lost on me as I looked across the displays of crystal, glass, and pottery. A man in a black hoodie stood behind a display of vases. A medical mask covered most of his face, while a baseball cap shadowed the top half.

But I could feel his gaze on me.

Itdrewme in until I couldn’t breathe properly.

The spectre—and he was haunting me in daylight. Little tremors of excitement shivered through my body.

I shot a glance to the main aisle where Cecilia’s goons prowled up and down the length of the tiled floor. While their beady gaze tracked the main thoroughfare, the escalators, and the exits, they weren’t scanning the edges, where danger lurked in the shadows. Other bodyguards stood by the escalators, looking bored. Their rapt attention was laughable.

Disentangling myself from the embrace, I sniffed and made an excuse about running to the lady’s room. I moved parallel to the man who’d walked right past the guards. My path made it seem as though I was indeed heading past the dining utensils and table linens to the back wall where the bathrooms were. Only once I was out of sight of my party did I veer in the stranger’s direction.

He wasn’t there.

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