Page 85 of Impenitent Claim

My gaze roved under the counter and landed on the bucket of soup crackers which was right next to the box of square butters. It would work in lieu of toast. Setting my coffee on the counter near a sticky wire basket of syrups, I reached under the counter and pocketed a generous handful of both crackers and butter.

Something soft brushed against my other hand.

I stiffened but didn’t look at Isabella as she passed. The mafia princess wandered to her fiancé, taking a position by his side as he rapidly explained to the capo glowering in front of him in a string of Italian.

I risked a peek at the napkin. More words that I couldn’t read were scrawled on the surface. I ground my teeth, knowing it could be another thirty minutes or more before I could escape and decipher the phrase—I think Cosimo is behind this—with the help of my phone. When we were done here in the East Coast, when Isabella was safe and free, I would devote my immediate future to learning to read. The language barrier, the dyslexia, and the poor education be damned. I would read what this siren wrote to me.

Another long sip of coffee trickled down my throat. At least one small miracle came from all of this. My woman trusted me enough to let me into her thoughts. That revelation alone bolstered me through the interrogation that came next.

Chapter 33 – Isabella

“It is important that you remember this passage, and the place it puts you in, Isabella,” the priest droned. “Submission in a wife is truly a beautiful thing.”

My fingers dug into the flesh under my thighs. There would likely be bruises marking my skin, but it was either that or strangle the man of God.

“Reverendo Don, you are forgetting that it is my duty to love and care for my wife—” Alonzo gestured to me “—as Christ did for the church. This passage isn’t about the subjugation of women, but rather it spells out the blessings forallrelationships in light of the gospel message.”

I cut Alonzo a look. Did he honestly think he could persuade the misogynistic priest on such a volatile scripture passage?

“It says first that wives submit to their husbands,” the priest insisted. “The marriage starts there, signore.”

Yeah, because a celibate knew the first thing about the most intimate relationship designed at the beginning of the Bible. I had to blink so as not to roll my eyes.

Alonzo shook his head. “But I’m to love her as Christ loved His Bride, the Church. I’m to lay my life down if necessary for her, putting her first in everything.”

It was noble of my fiancé to try.

Damn, Lonzo is a noble one.

A sigh relaxed my shoulders. It was a pity that I didn’t want a noble one. Inky, ghostly tendrils raked across my skin, and as a cloud passed over the sun outside, throwing the priest’s office into gloom, a delicious shiver rattled my bones. The darkness tempted me to thoughts about a certain monster.

Tuning out the theological debate, I let my mind wander over the encounters in the dark. It was as if the spectre were the other half of me. My body burned for him. But it wasn’t only passion that seared me. There was a completeness when I was with him. If I believed in soul mates, my soul called out to Ilya’s—

And there was a response each and every time.

I want…more.Cutting a look to the man I was supposed to marry, I sighed softly. More wasn’t in the cards. There was no telling how far the Russian would go, but he needed to leave town. There could be no relationship with the cage fighter. Like the ancient Roman poet, whose words I wore around my neck before I lost that pendant, we were doomed to be forbidden, unrequited lovers.

Alonzo rose and offered me his hand. I blinked before gathering my senses and let him help me from my chair. The priest said something about the next premarital counseling session’s date, but I was too busy expressing gratitude that today’s torture session was over.

We filed out of the office in silence. The interior of the sanctuary was cloaked in shadows. There was a haunting beauty evoked by the gothic sanctuary. A deep breath filled my lungs with the lingering scents of incense and oil from the candles.

If I was alone, I would have wandered the aisles as my mind escaped reality to go to a different time, a different place, or perhaps both.

But the thin, warm, and slightly damp fingers laced through mine grounded me to my fate. Although he didn’t say a word, Alonzo’s presence was noisy. Distracting might have been a better word.

“Isn’t it eerie?” he whispered, a smile touching his lips.

It was.Until he opened his mouth to comment on it. I murmured in assent as the spooky, ethereal energy ebbed.

“Makes you feel as though there really are angels or saints present,” he mused. “But the good ones. Evil doesn’t have a home in the house of the Lord.”

An argument formed on the tip of my tongue as to the bad people who came here to worship while their hearts remained unrepentant. But I shook my head. The otherworldly beauty was gone, and I was reminded only of the true reason for our visit today—that we’d been forced here by Alonzo’s aunt for some premarital counseling. Not even my vivid imagination could salvage a fantasy from the stark truth of my reality.

I tugged my fiancé along, stopping only at the exit where the guards escorted us to the two waiting vehicles. The thick wool of my coat slid over my shoulders, but the cold still shocked my system as I stepped into the chilly fall day. I hurried to put gloves on my already stiff fingers. Poor circulation and cold didn’t mix well.

“I’ll drive,” Alonzo informed the goons. “Please let us have a moment of privacy.”

The bodyguards looked at one another, but I took advantage of the situation to move to the front passenger seat. Alonzo helped me inside, before rounding the SUV to take the wheel. The guards would follow in the second vehicle, of course, but for a moment there was privacy.

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