Page 58 of Impenitent Claim

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I didn’t want or need these things when the next package was placed in my lap. It was as light as a feather. The paper was black with gold ribbon.

“Who’s that one from?” the strega sneered.

“There was no name,” Signora Modesti replied.

But I knew. My heart pattered wildly. I recognized that dark and bold wrapping, the same gold ribbon that decorated several other gifts. Biting the inside of my cheeks was the only way to keep from smiling, really and truly smiling.

My stalker was a cocky, relentless soul, I would give him that.

While I’d told him to leave me alone, this defiant gift pulsed warm in my lap. It was as if his presence leeched from the gift and was determined to break the colorless mood trying to suffocate my soul. He could never know how much I needed this gift, no matter what simple trinket lay inside, to boost my spirits this afternoon.

I carefully sliced the tape open. Underneath was a recognizable blue box. Confusion flickered through me. Normally, his gifts were spot-on, things I would adore. He couldn’t possibly think I would want something from the home department for my impending marriage, could he?

When I lifted the lid, my heart stopped. I blinked rapidly, staring at the mess inside the box.

And then I had to fight very, very hard to suppress the laughter. Delirious glee spread through my extremities, warming me.

“Well? What is it?” the strega snapped.

“One table knife,” I gulped. “And, um….”

“Who buys a single piece of cutlery? You registered for the entire Hampton set from Tiffany’s,” Cecilia pouted. She came around to peer into the box but recoiled sharply.

The organ in my chest launched into a rapid, nearly thunderous rhythm. My monster didn’t disappoint. There were ten bloody fingers next to the dinner knife.

Shrieks filled the room. But my eyes tracked the signet ring. G—for Gambino. The soldier who’d led the young recruits to destroy the warehouse the other night. The one who’d been rough with me. Rumor was that he’d disappeared that night. Well…I guess he had. The initial shock was quickly replaced by a rush of satisfaction. My chest swelled, and I fought to keep the grin off my face. While gruesome, this might have been the best gift to date.

***

“Make way, make way,” Tullio boomed from downstairs.

It hadn’t been that long since I opened the package, but it was safe to say my bridal shower was effectively ruined. I felt bad for my father’s cousin’s sake. Signora Modesti didn’t deserve this. Made Men were hurrying into her house, shouting and blustering. The poor woman was close to tears. Now that the underboss was here, I could only hope that order was restored quickly. However, his presence no doubt meant I would have to rejoin the party.

Sighing, I pushed off the bed and left the sanctuary of the guest bedroom. Trailing down the stairs, I peeped cautiously into the foyer of the brownstone.

“I was wondering where you were hiding.” The dark voice was soft and sensual.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I landed on the hardwood floor of the foyer and looked for the source.

“Here.” A hand shot out with a tempting offering.

“What do I want with that?” I eyed the white and green takeout coffee cup suspiciously.

“Take it,” he growled.

I plucked it from his grasp, careful not to touch him. Popping the plastic lid, I inhaled the spicy aroma of apples tempered with the sweetness of caramel—my favorite fall drink.

“Is it poisoned?” I took a sip. Hot and oh, so good.

Ilya shuffled. “I figured you had a shock, and this might take the edge off.”

I smiled into the drink as I sipped. My stalker had sent me the severed fingers of the bastard who’d pushed me but felt bad enough to bring me my favorite fall drink. What kind of monster did I discover in the dark of Chicago?

One of a kind.

“You’d better take it back,” I said, noticing the fallen expression. “They’ll have seen you come with it and will wonder how I got it.”

“The cup. I understand.” Ilya nodded slowly. “Wait right here.”

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