Page 25 of Savage Proposal

“Go on,” Cristian said.

It was more formal than we usually went about confessions. Normally after the first spiel, we would just talk things out, but he seemed determined not to look my way at all today. “I haven’t been keeping the Sabbath,” I started. “It’s been almost six and a half years since I’ve attended Mass.” I hadn’t stepped foot in a church since Sienna’s death. Having Cristian, and occasionally Father David, to the house to hear confession was the compromise that I had made.

For the next twenty-five minutes, I laid out all of the sins I had committed over the last month. Most of them Cristian already knew about. His expression grew judgmental when I confessed to having sex outside of marriage, but he kept his thoughts to himself. For now.

When I was done laying out my mortal sins, I recited the Act of Contrition without Cristian having to ask. We both knew, even as I said it from memory, that nothing could or would change. But we kept doing this, every other week, without fail. “Do I get a penance,fratellino?”

For a moment, I didn’t think he was going to say anything. Cristian could be a stubborn little bastard when he wanted to be. But then, “Twelve Hail Marys, and I have a request.”

“Make it.”

“Father David wants to come for dinner,” he said. “He’s tired of me bragging about Amalia’s cooking and has been dropping hints for weeks about wanting an invitation.”

It felt too easy. “Father David is always welcome, Cris,” I said. “Amalia loves to show off. You know that.”

Cristian nodded and stood. “I’ll find out what he wants to eat, and I’ll let you know. He’ll come with me next time.”

“Of course. Father David gets whatever he wants, yeah?” My younger brother stared at me for a long time, and I sighed. “Why did you take my confession if you’re this mad at me?”

Of course, the little bastard didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed himself out of his chair. “Do your Hail Marys,fratellone.” His tone told me that he didn’t really expect me to do them when he left, but as soon as he closed my office door, I did just that. If only to piss him off later by not meeting his expectations.

After I did my penance, I followed after Cristian. I didn’t want him to find another excuse to be alone with Isabella. I trusted my brother with my life, but I knew that he hated anything that he perceived as lying more than anything, and I wasn’t sure if he would be able to resist saying something.

Walking out in the hallway, though, something was very wrong. Three doors down from my office was a study Sienna had used. It was her space. She decorated it in exactly her taste andcollected antique books. When she died, I shut the study and locked the door. I had never intended to open it ever again.

The door was open.

There was a ringing in my ears, and the world felt like it slowed around me, like everything was quiet. Whoever fucking opened that door was going to die, and I was going toenjoyending their sad, pathetic life.

I stalked down the hall, silently, and looked into the room. Isabella was curled up on the couch Sienna had situated against the large picture window so that the oak tree outside spread out behind it.

My chest burned, and for a moment, all I could see was Sienna in that exact position, legs tucked beneath her, book in her hands. I used to think that I would be happy to watch her like that for hours. Seeing Isabella do it now, holding one of Sienna’s precious antiques in her bare hands, made my vision red and hazy.

I stepped over the threshold, and Isabella looked up. Her mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear whatever she was saying. It didn’t matter anyway. Crossing the room in three strides, I yanked her off the couch. The book she had been holding fell to the floor with athudthat made the ball of rage in my stomach grow all the bigger.

I threw her into the bookshelf, knocking more of Sienna’s books to the floor. Over the roar in my ears, I could hear screaming, but it was tinny and far away. I wrapped my hand around her elegant throat and squeezed down. The screaming stopped with an ugly sobbing sound.

Isabella struggled against me; she raked her nails down my arms. The stinging was nothing compared to the endless rage burning me from the inside. I shook her, slamming her against the hardwood shelves. Her face was turning a violent shade of red. Real fear shone in her eyes.

Good. Let her be afraid. How dare she exist in this house, anyway? I should have never brought her here. Every breath she drew insulted the memory of Sienna.

There was yelling again, and then someone grabbed me. At first, I was able to shrug them off. Then more hands, stronger hands, joined in, and I was suddenly on the floor with my hands behind my back.

“Boss!” I could hear Elio shouting. “Snap out of it. What in the fuck are you doing?” Other sounds filtered in: coughing and sobbing and Amalia screaming curses at me.

“Get her out of here,” I bellowed over the din. “Get her the fuck out of here before I break her goddamn neck.” I struggled against Elio, but he put more of his weight on my back, pressing me into the floor.

“Amalia’s taking her out,cugino,” he promised. “She won’t come back.”

CHAPTER 17

Isabella

Purple bruises were forming around my throat. I brought a hand up and gently touched where I was swelling and hissed through my teeth. It hurt. “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t get to leave the house,” I said to Amalia, who was fussing over me. We both winced because I had the voice of an eighty-year-old smoker.

“I should get you an ice pack,” Amalia said, tutting softly. “Ice and then heat, right?”

“That’s for a swollen ankle.”

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