Page 7 of Impenitent Claim

Safe, but lonely.

Although….

As if drawn by a magnet, my eyes slid to the red rose sitting in the tall, slim vase on my nightstand. Maybe I wasn’t completely alone. I had a friend after all. Until that person made themselves known, shattering the illusion that their friendship was just aplot to use me, I could believe anything I wanted. And I chose to believe they were my secret bosom friend, a true kindred spirit, who’d heard my silent plea for help.

I blinked hard.

The silence grew stronger. Five terrible seconds passed where my heart didn’t even beat. And then it exploded into a thunderous pace. The rose wasn’t alone. It had a twin.

Someone had been in my room. They wanted me to know they’d been there.

Chapter 5 – Isabella

Who had been in my room? First some large, otherworldly intruder, and now…a dinner guest? I scanned the long table. Many of the females who accompanied me to the fitting were guests here. It made more sense that one of them left the second rose. But still, there was the invasion from the other night that needed to be taken into account.

Was it an assassination attempt? Although someone had been in my room, watching me sleep, they hadn’t hurt me. Coups weren’t unheard of in the world of mobsters. Was the midnight intruder the first wave, and this subtle messaging an attempt to woo me to their cause?

It wasn’t as if Don Aldo could be easily overthrown. If nothing else, this dinner was testament enough. The guests who didn’t know the extent of his proclivities sucked up to the wildly successful businessman. The criminals? They worshiped at the temple of power and wealth that was the mob boss.

My gaze flickered down the table. Gio was flanked by two adolescents. Devotion made my heart shudder. Nothing could happen to that boy—because as much as he wanted to protest, hewas closer to childhood than adulthood. The shiny rock on my finger spun as I twirled it with my thumb. For now, Gio was safe. No one was touching my brother. Not while I had breath left in my lungs.

The phone call from last year played through my mind. The news of my parents’ accident was coupled with the promise from Signor Fabrizi, the underboss, that my brother and I would be looked after by the new don, and so long as we did everything he and the don asked of us, our loyalty wouldn’t be questioned.

The three-caret symbol of my captivity was proof I was obedient.

I lifted my wine glass and drained it in two gulps. A waiter came to fill it. I felt the gaze from across the table but knew better than to look at the strega. Cecilia would have words with me about the amount of wine I consumed over the course of this painful evening. Well, screw her. Tonight, I was stealing a bottle, or two, and spending a pleasant evening in my room with a book.

Not that I would be able to relax and read with the twin blooms staring at me.

I drummed my fingers against my thigh. Maybe I missed something behind the meaning of the gift. Fancy chocolates, which were already eaten, and red flowers were—

Oh, shit.

What if they had to do with an entirely different secret than rebellion? Red roses were synonymous with romance. That couldn’t be it. Someone had amorous feelings for me? They couldn’t! I couldn’t risk it. Participating would be certain death.

Who left them?

A few of the girls had brothers, or it could be one of them. I cradled my wine against my chest, gaze running up and down their faces. Regardless, they couldn’t have me. I was trapped, and mine wasn’t the only life at stake. It would take a true monster from myth and legend to destroy the current landscapeof this nightmare. Total destruction would be the only path to escape, but something of that magnitude would be messy and probably uncontrollable.

***

Dinner lasted another hour, and then it took forty minutes before I could steal my wine and slip away. I stomached all the niceties that I could. The ass kissing, the underhanded jabs, and false compliments—it was nauseating. I needed to scream. Thankfully, there were pillows for that.

I bolted up the back stairs and slid into the safety of my bedroom.

Shutting my door and leaning against the wood, I let out a long breath. Ten seconds to breathe. That was the time I allowed myself. I pushed forward, stumbling to kick off my heels as I moved. I tossed both bottles on the bed. They were prized vintages and very expensive. The don imported them exclusively to show off to his important friends. And now, I would enjoy them. My fingers scrambled to tug at the zipper of my dress. The material strained as I discarded it over my head. In half a minute I was finally comfortable in an oversized tee.

I turned and pinned the twin blooms with a hate-filled glare. “You two. What the hell?”

Snatching a bottle opener from my vanity drawer, I pulled the first cork free. It was a pity I had neither decanter nor glass to properly enjoy these beauties. With a shrug, I took a swig. The tasty liquid was still damn strong, and my buzz would come back quickly. Dry red goodness filled my mouth as I powered up my laptop. I typedred roseinto the search bar of the internet browser. Results populated. I took another swig of wine before perusing the synopses. One article after another filled my screen.

Overpowering love, blinding adoration, and passionate devotion were the meanings.

I frowned at the computer window. There was nothing about rebellion or secret alliances, except the history regarding the Red Rose of Lancaster from Medieval England. But it was doubtful anyone was using that historical reference to coax me into a mob war. We were Italians, they wouldn’t think of such an obscure symbol.

No, it had to be the original meaning: Romance.

“Okay, someone is fucking with me,” I grumbled, leaning back and taking a long pull of the wine. No one felt that way about me. They only saw me as a means to an end. In my world, relationships were an exchange of power or wealth. Attachments were only formed with strings, tight and binding, spreading out to form an inescapable web. I huffed. “Clearly, someone wants to use the ploy of romance for some nefarious purposes.”

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