Page 89 of Impenitent Claim

At least the youngest was my age.Not that the detail made it right, but twenty-three wasn’t a child.

I paused by the door. How old was Ilya? For that matter, what about other details? Favorite meal? Did he like sports?

And how the hell was he so good at killing?

A shiver rattled down my spine. That didn’t bother me so much as spike my curiosity. I knew nothing about the man, but it didn’t change the way I felt. I liked him—I liked him a lot. Even though he was killing our soldiers.

As if summoned by my thoughts, a dark presence crept through the house. I looked toward the door to the great room, where the underboss and his son entered. A moment later, Ilya’s frame filled the space. My gaze swept over his body, looking for injuries. He seemed fine. I let out a short breath. Of course, he was just fine. Excitement and anticipation fluttered in my stomach, despite my resolve to be mad at him.

The Fabrizis advanced into the room, greeting soldiers as they passed. Father and son stopped by the first casket, heads bowed,their expressions hardened but was it by loss or the desire for vengeance? The cruel twist of their mouths was a warning that rattled like a snake’s tail or flashed like the fang of a predator.

Those two could slumber in a cushioned box, and I would feel nothing but relief.

Ilya took up his position at the back of the room, one hand clasping the opposite wrist and feet planted firmly apart. It took everything I had not to stare.

The four remaining capos gathered in a small cluster, murmuring in low voices that echoed like a distant wave of sadness. The moment Tullio joined them, a hush fell over the group. The silence pulsed from that corner of the room. Swift glances flashed toward the don, who stood next to Signora Gianetti.

Madonna! They are plotting.

I swallowed hard. My gaze whipped around, looking for Alonzo. He wasn’t here. I hurried to the dining room, where a spread was laid on the table. Groups of soldiers milled about, their conversation more animated without the dead softening their volume.

My fiancé was in the kitchen of all places. He was heating a mug in the microwave.

“There you are,” I breathed.

Alonzo blinked at me, eyes wide like an owl. “Signora Rossi wanted a cup of warm milk. She said it’s nearly her bedtime, and it will be too late by the time she gets a ride home.”

A fond smile played on my lips. I couldn’t help it. This lad was amazing. His kindness and willingness to serve would be great qualities in leadership—just not a mob syndicate.

“That’s very nice of you,” I said, dropping onto a barstool at the back of the long counter. It crossed my mind to slip some more of that magical tonic into the wine bottles. If soldiers grew violently ill tonight, it would help when I dosed Gio again. Nodoubt, the whole organization, even the trainees, would be called out to exact vengeance on the Scorsos.

Several members of the staff bustled into the room, threw us hasty glances filled with annoyance, and then retreated to go about their work.

“What did you need, Isabella?” Alonzo plucked the steaming mug from the microwave and turned around to face me.

While I needed him to leave so I could poison the Made Men, I also needed to speak with him. I glanced over the room. We were alone, although it wouldn’t last. “I think the capos are plotting.”

Alonzo nodded. “My father pulled me aside this morning. He wants me to make a bid for Gianetti’s position after the funeral tomorrow when everyone comes back here for dinner.”

But if Cosimo beats you to it?I sighed. They were both extremely young by society’s standards, but youths had been dons or bosses before.

“Can I do anything?” I offered.

Alonzo gave me a blistering grin, and while his face lit up, he also looked so much younger. “If you can throw any weight with the signoras, so they have good things to say to their husbands about me, I would appreciate it.”

He asked the impossible. The men would see me as more of an authority than the women if my wedding planning was any indication. The matrons didn’t respect me, and their daughters abhorred me. Not that their men listened to them anyhow. But for Alonzo’s sake, I could try.

One more impish smirk, and Alonzo left.

With a sigh, I reached for the bottle of expensive champagne. It wasn’t supposed to be up here from the cellar, but since it was, I might as well open it and serve it to one of the capo’s wives. Angela would guzzle it, and maybe, just maybe, I could get her to throw in a good word to her husband.

Might not be the wisest thing to poison him if he needed to be coherent for that discussion.

Reaching across the counter for the dish rag to twist the cork open, the back legs of the chair lifted. My fingers brushed the cloth when a voice melted from the darkness.

“Careful now. Can’t have you falling, Izzy.”

I rounded on the spectre, but the motion made the balance shift too quickly. As I caught the counter to steady myself, my arm knocked off the four-thousand-dollar bottle of bubbly.

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