Page 4 of Impenitent Claim

A real smile pulled at my lips. Those had been few and far between, but this small gesture was enough to make me really grin.

I have a secret friend.

Or at least, that was how I chose to read the gesture.

A pawn like me didn’t have friends. People didn’t do nice things for me without a grand show to make sure their gestures were seen. Imagining there was one out there, choosing to believe this was the actions of a friend and not a manipulator, was enough to make me cry. The smile turned into a tingle at the corner of my eyes. My emotional state was fragile.

I lifted my gaze, fighting back the moisture. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if the others noticed my emotion. I could play it off as wedding bliss. But I needed to bottle up these feelings.

And hide the treats. If Cecilia saw….

Crouching, I emptied the box of chocolates, putting them in the zippered pouch of my purse. They would be slightly linty, but it was the only way to sneak them back into my room. The flower I tucked carefully in the bag, breaking the bottom stem. It would go nicely in the bubble glass bud vase on my nightstand.

As I dressed, I wondered who’d snuck in here with the gifts. Had they used the attendant? Or was it someone already in the private viewing room, one of the mobster’s wives or daughters? I wasn’t particularly close to any of the women, but this gesture could be the start of a better friendship. Careful not to crush the flower, I snatched my purse and hurried back to the waiting gaggle of women with a spark of something I thought was long gone pulsing in my chest—hope.

Chapter 3 – Ilya

Iwas invisible, every thief’s dream. The cameras wouldn’t catch me, and the guards weren’t looking inside the walls for danger. Having a technology company’s resources at my beck and call made ghosting about possible. My quiet footsteps whispered over the garden path to the backdoor. Pulling another nifty gadget from my pocket, I waited for it to do its magic and disable the alarm system. When the green light blinked, I picked the lock. It was nice to do things the old-fashioned way sometimes. A satisfying click alerted me that the last obstacle was defeated.

This was supposed to be a final reconnaissance mission before I struck. Instead, I was the idiot traipsing up the back staircase under the cover of darkness, repeating the mistake of the other night. But I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

I had to see her.

My fingers curled around her door, slipping into the darkness. The scent of lavender enveloped me. I drew a deep breath, ignoring how my limbs shook. There was nothing frightening in here. Except…that was a lie. The siren sleeping in bed looked soinnocent. Her dark hair fell in a loose braid at her back; escaped strands fluttered around her face. Isabella Rinaldi was capable of invoking misery and utter agony.

The monster’s lair was completely at odds with the destruction she was capable of.

The soft glow filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle light across the room. The bedroom was a serene haven, a blend of elegance and comfort. Delicate floral patterns adorned the walls, complementing the pastel hues of the plush throw pillows scattered across the tufted chaise lounge. The crystals on the chandelier caught the light and cast delicate starbursts that danced across the ceiling.

The cozy, serene space for a pampered little princess. Only…she was so much more than that.

No matter, I was prepared this time. I would catch her and make her mine.

Looking over her shelves, the question of what I should steal played through my mind. She would want some of these trinkets when I made her disappear. This was her life. Products, clothing, and jewelry could be replaced, but there would be sentimental things. People like her had those. Not that I would know anything about that, but I’d heard it was true. How different was the clutter and collage that made up her desk, her shelves, and her vanity?

The blankets behind me rustled.

I turned sharply, holding my breath. My little seductress stirred. Sitting up, Isabella scanned the dark. The silence beat steadily, only interrupted by her sharp intake of breath.

Saints! It’s like she can feel me.

This time she didn’t reach for her weapon. I wondered for the thousandth time why she hadn’t told the don or any of his goons what she’d seen the other night. She hadn’t summoned the guards. There was no increase in the security.

It was almost as if she wanted to invite chaos into this polished, pristine world.

With a huff, she threw back the covers and marched to the ensuite. A low, golden light flicked on, probably triggered by her motion. The door partially closed. That was my cue to leave. And I should go. But I couldn’t make my feet move.

Flexing and fisting my hand, I wanted to punch myself in the jaw. I needed to be planning the heist, not lingering in the dark to stare at her for the next few hours. There would be plenty of time for that later, once I kidnapped the little mafia princess who smelled like green apples and slept on blankets that smelled like purple flowers. I forced my feet to take a step, and then another. As I slipped to the door, the thin shaft of light fell across her bed and to the nightstand beyond. A single rose sat in a bud vase by the phone she was charging. Seeing the bright bloom brought a dark smile to my lips.

I see you received my message, little rusalka.I twisted the knob and made my escape. This rusalka met her match. There was no escape for her, other than the fate I designed.

Other people would try to define my feelings as obsession or addiction. But they couldn’t understand the depth of the emotions pulsing in my chest or the strength the myriad created. The drive to act was stronger than the primal will to survive. It wouldn’t make sense to normal people, and I very much doubted it would make sense to any of my brothers-in-arms. While they showed a mild fixation over their women, they had the luxury of courtship and drawn-out interactions to grapple with their feelings. My every thought had been consumed by this woman and how she wanted me. Now she was engaged to some other fool. I couldn’t have that. She was mine, and it was time to make her see that.

Chapter 4 – Isabella

Chandeliers imported from a haute couture house in Paris hung suspended from tree limbs. Marble statues flanked the patio. Bistro tables were draped in silk, and candelabras sat on the centers. I had to bite my tongue at the ridiculous picture that was the back gardens. It was as if tens of thousands of dollars threw up in and around the plants and manicured shrubs. There was no taste or style, only expense and gaudy glamor.

I could have made the scene effortlessly tasteful without a designer bone in my body. But also…it was fall. Why wasn’t there a single pumpkin? Or at least rich blooms like mums, phlox, and even the humble, wispy hydrangea. I might be a cottage-core granny who drank too much coffee and read too much fairy smut, but it didn’t mean I disliked bright, sparkling parties with glamorous dresses. The Great Gatsby was a favorite of mine. However, I knew when things were tacky, overdone, and cheap, which was exactly what this party was.

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