Page 40 of Impenitent Claim

“Yes, I’m devastated.” Isabella popped a yellow pie into her mouth.

When she groaned painfully, I snapped my gaze to her face. Poison? A hidden razor blade? Even a needle. Where was the attack?

But Isabella swallowed and pointed across the room. “Can you stop those idiots before they steal another bottle of hooch?”

She wasn’t talking to me.

“Sure thing,” Alonzo rushed to say. He turned to me. “Have anything you want, Elijah.”

And then I was alone with her in a sea of people.

Isabella watched her fiancé for a few more moments with pursed lips. The young men were indeed pilfering bottles of alcohol from behind the bar. Since I’d seen her do that very same thing, I had to wonder why she cared if these lads did it.

Shaking her head, she turned and stopped short. “What are you doing here?”

A smile curled my lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No,Elijah.”

Most of the time I despised the way the Americanized version of my name sounded. But not rolling off her lips. “I came here to fight for the prize.”

“Stay out of my life. I can’t have you fucking anything up!”

I stepped in front of her, blocking her path. From this angle, no one could see what I did. I lifted one of the pies, bringing it to her mouth.

“Open,” I dared.

Isabella pursed her lips. In a flash, she darted around me. If I wanted to, I could have stopped her. But I let her go.

“Stay out of my way, phantom.” With that, she was gone.

A rough laugh scraped in my chest. Unconsciously, I lifted the pie to my mouth, popping the whole thing between my lips.

Lemon. Tart, yet sweet. The buttery crust crumbled, while the tangy cream washed over my senses.

Now I know what you taste like, rusalka.

Chapter 19 – Isabella

Trying not to fidget, I stood next to Alonzo and made small talk with the don of the Conti Famiglia. This was bad. This was so very, very bad. And not the fact that Gio was trying to sneak off and drink with Cosimo Fabrizi. Whereas the son was simply pulling an adolescent stunt, Signor Fabrizi was taking idiocy to a whole new level. What was the underboss thinking, bringing a fighter to our private celebration with the Conti Famiglia? Knowing Tullio, the underboss no doubt wanted to show his prized fighter off. It would serve them right if the Russian outed them. While I had no proof, it was inconceivable that the cage fighter didn’t know who and what his sponsor, and his sponsor’s friends, were.

My gaze fluttered around the room, once again trying to find my stalker. After the incident with the lemon tart, he’d simply…disappeared.

“Open.”

That dark command hummed in my veins. A rush of heat tingle between my legs. Oh, Madonna Mio, I was screwed. Royally—royally screwed.

Tugging at the high lace neckline, I breathed through the restrictive vice that was the dress. It was a pretty dress, but the seams scratched me mercilessly. The hem draped on the floor, and I could only take small steps or risk tripping again. The supportive material of the bodice covered my chest, but stop to let the sheer fabric create the illusion of showing skin up to my throat. The whole gown was overlayed in the sheer material, and floral patterns were embroidered into the delicate fabric with small beads to accent petals. It wouldn’t be so bad if my hair wasn’t scraped into a tight chignon at the back of my head and my ears weren’t weighed down with South Pacific pearls. I might not be able to breathe, let alone move, but I looked like a knockout.

Back in the dazzling party, the violent events from less than an hour ago on the balcony seemed like a dream.

I smiled at Don Leonardo Conti. “That is fascinating. I’ve never heard of those grapes being blended to make such a wine.”

The don’s watery eyes blinked at me, while his tubby son’s openly raked my body. I was the prized Rinaldi, and it was absolutely necessary I was shown off. Positioned between Alonzo and his father, at least I was out of the Contis’ accidental reach.

“I’ll have to send you a bottle, first thing tomorrow for your Sunday lunch,” Don Leonardo asserted magnanimously.

While the chatter droned on, my mind wandered. He was here. My secret romance, the man from the Chicago club, the one I chose for myself, found me. Part of me wanted to rejoice, make plans tobewith him. Just one more time….

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