Page 28 of Impenitent Claim

“Maybe this weekend?” he offered quickly. “Or the next?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Whatcha doing tonight?”

With a grunt, Gio deadlifted the pumpkin. “There’s a fight. A bunch of us are going—Alonzo’s going. Didn’t he tell you?”

I hadn’t spoken to my fiancé in several days other than to ask him to pass the pepper at dinner. “He said something about it,” I fibbed.

His voice grew animated. “Yeah! There’s a new fighter in town. Some Russian they call the bear killer. He’s undefeated! Carlo Vesconti saw him a week ago and said it was the most brutal thing he’d ever seen.”

That sounded like fun. And if I was going to influence my brother, I needed to use every opportunity.

“I’m going to come with,” I declared.

Gio snorted. “Sure thing.”

What he didn’t say was that I wouldn’t be allowed to leave the mansion on my own.

“I am. I’ll have Alonzo escort me.” It wasn’t like my fiancé would tell me no. Not if I was persuasive. There was a damn spring in my step. If I showed an interest in my brother’s life, if I kept him close, I could protect him, which was what I’d been doing ever since the terrible news of our parents’ deaths. It would work; I would accept nothing less.

Chapter 13 – Isabella

The underboss’s car was in the drive when we pulled up. There were a thousand things on the tip of my tongue, but with the guards in the front seat, I couldn’t say any of them to Gio. Besides, I’d had my chance earlier. Maybe if we could escape, maybe if Don Aldo died—maybe, maybe, maybe. There would always be another powerful man pulling the strings and directing our lives.

What if I took the strings?I didn’t need to be a man to be that powerful. A shudder rolled through me. I didn’t want that. No sane person did. But if ruling a criminal organization meant keeping my only family member safe….

That futile hope flew into the world, riding my sigh. My first order of business was protecting my brother. Trying to swim upriver would only land me in a pot of hot water.

Gio opened his door and bolted, garbling something about the underboss’s son being there. Even if his father wasn’t the underboss—the man who effectively blackmailed me—I would never be a fan of Cosimo Fabrizi. There were some people born mean. And being placed in a position of power allowed thatmeanness to grow. Cosimo was like the weasel in the children’s story that climbed into the coop just to kill the hens for the fun of it.

And of course, my brother idolized him.

Trudging up the front walk, I pushed inside. My eyes immediately tracked to the bundle of sunny yellow on the side table. The blood in my veins roared like a freight train. Air refused to pull into my lungs. The next few moments passed like a dream. I saw my fingers lift of their own accord, brushing over the velvet soft petals.One, two, three….

“Nine,” I breathed.

The big, gorgeous blooms didn’t reflect the warmth of their namesake, the sun. They were a response from my stalker, a stark defiance to my wish that he leave me alone. He didn’t leave them for me in my room, to find on my own. No! These had been sent to the house. This meant a delivery driver passed the guardhouse at the front gate, and an interaction happened between said driver and whichever maid answered the front door. The staff and the guards would know someone sent me flowers. What kind of gossip was swirling around the house already?!

A wave of terror passed through me. This forbidden little interaction was close to becoming a real danger.

This has to end!

I must not have made myself clear. My fingers curled into a fist. There was a card dangling off the vase’s ribbon. I plucked it off, memorizing the name of the florist. That was as good a place as any to contact and see what information could be found on my stalker.

“Those came while you were out,” Don Aldo said appearing at the end of the hall as if summoned by my traitorous thoughts.

“Who sent such pretty flowers?” Tullio sneered. The underboss stood like an evil henchman, not quite straight, looking up from under shaggy brows.

Ignoring the knot tightening in my gut, I shrugged. “Me, myself, and I.”

It was a good lie, but I needed it to be convincing. Thankfully there was no personal message, only the shop’s information, on the small card.

“We needed a new florist for the wedding. I called, and these are the samples I requested,” I explained, forcing my voice to stay light and airy. “Cecilia has had so much to deal with, I thought I would help. If we didn’t like the quality, there would be no harm done.”

A line formed in his forehead as Aldo’s brows drew together. “Sunflowers?”

“I wanted something pretty and bright,” I said with a smile I didn’t feel. “Fall is nature’s funeral, and winter her death.”

The underboss let out an ugly snort, while the don smiled condescendingly. “You’ve always been an odd duck, Isabella,” Aldo mused.

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