Page 36 of Impenitent Claim

Retracting the proffered hand, he cleared his throat. “My name is Tullio, Tullio Fabrizi. And I would like to offer you a sponsorship.”

The name rang a bell. He was connected to the Rinaldi Mafia, but I would have to consult my notes to see which little vermin he was.

“How about we go for a drink? You’re new in town, they said?” He rubbed his hands together. “You do know what a sponsorship is, right? The organizers told me you didn’t have one—which I can’t believe. You’re fucking incredible. How has someone not picked you up?”

Because in the past, whenever I fought, it was purely for release. Working with the Vlasovs paid well. I had use of the bratva gym, could work with trainers at other athletic centers, and had access to anything else I needed. I was never in the underground fights for glory. In fact, up until this past summer,my participation had been forbidden by the late pakhan. Dimitri only allowed it because he thought I would go crazy if I didn’t find an outlet. Little did he know I’d been traveling to fights across the country without his father ever knowing I broke the decree.

But it wasn’t the offer of sponsorship right now that intrigued me. This was an in with the famiglia. If I played my cards right, I could come and go as I pleased. It would make kidnapping my prize and faking her death all the easier.

I could make it so they never came after her.

“Are you alright?” Tullio peered up at me, the same way spectators peered at zoo animals.

It took everything I had not to look back at Isabella. I couldn’t have this man seeing me staring at her. “There’s a diner out by the airport. I’ll meet you there after the fight and…you can tell me more.”

I didn’t want to seem too eager. But this squat, porkish gangster wasn’t even the least bit suspicious. He saw me as a brutal creature, able to score him fame and money. I suffered through the unpleasantries of his farewell, and when he was finally gone, I resumed my vigil, my mind playing through the possible ways I could use this to speed the process of leaving town.

Chapter 17 – Isabella

Tipping the flute back, bubbles played over my tongue. The bright citrus notes were masked with a forced sweetness. Too many of these and I would be tipsy, possibly sick with gut rot. Part of the problem was there was nothinginmy stomach to soak up the decadent carbonation. But Cecilia wasn’t here tonight, and I planned to gorge on the food. They couldn’t start the meal soon enough!

“Is that any good?” Alonzo asked quietly, coming up behind me.

I grimaced and kept walking through the gathering to the balcony. “It’s cheap.”

My fiancé hummed under his breath. “I would have thought father would go all out for tonight.”

I shrugged. “He might not want the Conti Famiglia to know how much money he’s worth. It wouldn’t be good for their business dealings.”

“Oh, I don’t disagree with you,” Alonzo laughed. “Frugality is not his usual style. Odd how this new partnership has brought out that side of him.”

Contracts that had been months in the making had finally been signed, thus the cause for tonight’s celebration between the two mobs. The only detail I knew for certain was that there would be peace between our two territories, but I suspected there was an increase in the profits of illegal drug running.

Stepping into the chill of the evening, I sighed. It was beautiful out here. Not quite cold enough to see sparkles in the air or moisture freezing on the grass, the nip was hard enough to make the hairs on my skin stand up on end and gooseflesh shiver across my body. I wanted nothing more than to slip off my heels, run barefoot through the chilly grass, and spin under the harvest crescent hanging low in the sky.

I glanced at the man beside me. The energy of the night was almost strong enough to make even the most unromantic encounters feel sensual. What would he do if I slid my hand through his? Danced over the length of the balcony, and then tugged him down the sweeping staircase to frolic in the grass?

Laugh at me—the crazy little Rinaldi girl.

With a sigh, I leaned against the stone railing of the club, gazing thoughtfully across the moonlit golf course. Alonzo mimicked my posture. We seemed drawn to one another yet again, him seeking me out at a social gathering. Not a bad trait to have with one’s spouse. But now…something was different. My insistence on coming to the fight had piqued his interest. Alonzo had been very attentive the last few days. We’d talked. We’dtexted.And here we were, at another mob event, in each other’s company almost immediately. Since I didn’t mind his presence, the sudden friendliness was a pleasant change. It gave me hope for a brighter future.

Ice shivered down my spine.

If some phantom from the past didn’t destroy that possibility before it could be realized.

Mama mia!I hadn’t expected to see him at the fight. We arrived late because it had taken a crapload of convincing to allow me to leave the safety of the mansion. Alonzo brought me to our seats, and I sawhim. Quietly waiting for the match to begin as if he were selecting a television show to watch. Seeing him there solidified two pieces in the puzzle that he presented. He was Russian—something I would never have guessed—and he was well enough connected in the underworld to land a prime spot in the illegal fights.

The moment his gaze turned on me, a fire burned low in my belly. I hadn’t been able to quench the flames since! The fighter—The Bear, they called him—was unstoppable, a primal force of nature.

But I already knew that. My body remembered the feel of him taking me hard in the dimly lit, upper office of the club in Chicago.

I had no idea he could fight like that.

As if sensing some of the spider web of my thoughts, Alonzo said, “You never said that you were interested in the fight circuits.”

“They fascinate me.” I lifted my hair, fanning my suddenly sensitive skin. The heat inside was oppressive. But this was more than the blaze of a crowd. I felt…distracted. It started a quarter of an hour ago, and I told myself I just needed a drink. When that didn’t work, I’d made my escape out here.

Alonzo’s vehement whisper cracked through the night. “I hate them.”

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