Page 29 of Impenitent Claim

It worked. They saw the imaginative, silly woman. Exactly what I needed them to see.

“I hope your fanciful ways won’t come out when you take the Bruno last name.” The don pinned me with a hard look.

Madonna!I hadn’t even thought of that, but of course, he would want me to take his family’s last name. Italian women often kept their maiden names, and I would have done the same. But this was just another layer of control. Furthermore, if I hadn’t suspected they would change the name of our organization, this confirmed the famiglia was no longer my legacy. It didn’t matter that this criminal organization was founded onmyfamily name. No! It had to be the grasping swine taking the throne.

“I would never let them interfere with my wifely duties, signore,” I answered meekly, lowering my gaze so they didn’t see the defiance burning there.

“And hopefully this time next year your motherly ones,” Aldo said with a wink, before turning and stalking back into the bowels of the house. The sounds of Tullio’s chuckling rang through the hall as he followed.

I slumped against the side table. Changing my name…. Sleeping with his son…. My focus had been on surviving the wedding, not what came after. Life as the perfect mob wife.

“Fuck me,” I muttered, because only the worst, most unladylike language would suffice in this hellish situation.

Snatching the vase of flowers off the entry table, I began to make my way to my room, glaring at the business name on the rectangular card. A quick change of clothes, and I would be on my way! The shop had better have a name for me. If I’d learned anything in all my years living with the famiglia, I knew how effective a shakedown could be. They would be far more likely to tell me the name of their patron if I threatened them in person.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

Each clatter of my heels against the polished steps seemed to shout at me. Obviously, the sender wanted me to know where the flowers were from this time, or they wouldn’t have been delivered with a business card. But I shoved common sense back into the recesses of my mind. I was at the point of boiling. The pressure threatened to make me explode. Even if I didn’t find the identity of the ghostly intruder, yelling at the shopkeeper would feel so damn good.

I needed a release.

With a rough laugh, I barged into my bedroom and set the flowers on my nightstand. Self-care wouldn’t cut it. Closing my eyes, I ran my hand over my chest and up to clasp my throat.Memories from the end of last fall in Chicago prickled in my mind. I needed someone. But not just anyone.

A force of nature….

Dammit. Why did my first have to be mind-blowing? Nothing else would ever compare to that wild burst of freedom. With a shake of my head, I told myself it would have to be my vibrator that satisfied me tonight.

I took out my phone to order a ride. The guards would be so happy to take me out again after hauling two dozen pumpkins home for me today. Well, that was too damn bad. Italian mob wives were supposed to be spoilt princesses. It was time I started acting like one.

***

The quaint street was filled with old brick buildings and newly planted trees on the sidewalk. The florist was one of the bougie little shops, and as I pushed inside, a flutter of foreign language surrounded me. It wasn’t harsh or guttural, wrapping around me like a warm cocoon. I smiled warmly at the robust women behind the counter, who wore Old World clothing. Their long skirts swished across the floor and the blouses were secured by a belt.

“Stay at the door, please,” I told the goons at my back. They shifted about but gave me approving nods. Going up to the counter, I waited my turn before addressing one of the florists. “I had some beautiful sunflowers delivered this afternoon and was hoping you could tell me something about them.”

The full cheeks on the woman I spoke to paled. She brushed a wisp of hair back into the scarf on her head. “He said you would come.”

The phantom planned this.

My heart skipped double. In this game of cat and mouse, did I just play into my assailant’s hand? I could turn around and walk out that door. Make the smart choice. There was the promise of safety in the prison of the don’s care.

But the idea of dropping out of this contest soured in my belly.

“Who is he? Can you tell me?” I breathed, the excitement making my voice shake.

Those pale blue eyes widened. The florist fidgeted, looking around the shop. I didn’t miss how her eyes scanned my guards. It was within the realm of possibility that she was aware of the criminal underworld. I didn’t know which groups ruled the different sections of the boroughs, but since there was a heavy Eastern European vibe, it was entirely possible one of those families or clans controlled these streets.

And I just waltzed in here, like a damn prize.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

My heart hadn’t beat this fast in ages! A lightness lifted my chest, and for a moment my own troubles evaporated.

“Please,” I insisted. “It’s important to know who he is.”

“He said to give you this and show you into the display room. He said you would want to see the flowers for your wedding,” she stammered, accent becoming increasingly thicker with the nerves.

I took the card she offered, popping the seal as I followed her through one of the doors. My guards didn’t even budge from their posts. I could be walking into untold danger, and they stayed put because that was what I told them to do. The lazy assholes.

---