Page 57 of Savage Claim

“I’m notthreateningyou,” I countered.

“But you aren’t allowing me to leave either.” I shrugged, as if to saywhat can you do?She shook her head, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Can’t we just talk about all of this tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I said, not really wanting to have that kind of conversation tonight either. “But you’re still not leaving this room.”

Isabella let out a sound of pure frustration, but then she was storming to the bathroom. She slammed the door, and I knew without having to hear it that she had locked it. I only allowed myself to relax when I heard the shower turn on.

She took her time in the bathroom, probably hoping that I would be asleep by the time she came out, but I was leaning against the headboard, scrolling on my phone. “Really?” she muttered to herself, and she seemed determined not to look at me.

I thought about pushing the issue, but that would lead to yet another fight, and I didn’t have it in me for another round. Instead, I ignored her as she climbed into the bed beside me, and I bit my tongue when she turned on her side so that her back was to me.

I continued to scroll on my phone. Isabella pretended to go to sleep. We both spent the night miserable.

CHAPTER 36

Isabella

Ithought that Lorenzo might try to avoid me for the next few days—it wouldn’t be totally out of character for him—but after an absolutely awful night of feigning sleep, Lorenzo demanded that we have breakfast together. Alone.

We drove, largely in silence, to a diner not far from the estate. “Give us the corner booth,” Lorenzo said as we stepped through the glass door.

The waitress at the host stand sighed. “Sir, the corner booth is for parties of six or more.”

I could hear it when Lorenzo’s jaw popped. “Give. Us. The. Booth,” he said slowly, enunciating as if he thought she was hard of hearing.

She didn’t want to bend to him, that was clear from the sour look on her face. I stepped slightly in front of him. “Ma’am,” I said, drawing her attention to me. “Could we please have that booth? My fiancé isn’t a big fan of crowds, and the corner gives him a little bit of space.” I painted my lips with a beseeching smile, and I knew it the moment she was going to give it to us.

“Follow me,” she said, grabbing two of the menus from the podium.

I glanced at Lorenzo, expecting him to be happy or proud or something, but he looked just as annoyed as before. Maybe even more so, except now that sour expression was aimed directly at me. I rolled my eyes and followed the waitress, leaving him to trail after me.

The corner booth was big enough that I could slide into one side, and it left plenty of space between Lorenzo and me. He casually flipped through the menu, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. When I glanced down at mine, I could barely read the words. Everything about this felt wrong.

It was the type of anger that wasn’t from violence, and neither of us was entirely in the wrong, and it left me feeling wholly unsettled. “Can you just say whatever it is you want to say?”

Lorenzo looked at me. He was utterly expressionless. “I want three eggs and crispy bacon.”

I contemplated throwing the bowl of sugar packets at his head. “You could have had that at home,” I pointed out. “You wanted me out of the house for a reason, so tell me.”

“Cristian walked away from the seminary,” he said, just as expressionless as before, but I could see that he was forcing it now. He was upset that his brother had left the Church.

I reached across the table for his hand, but he jerked back so that he was out of my reach. The rejection stung. “I know it must be hard for you,” I said. “I know how much Cristian being in the Church meant to you, that you were able to give him a life outside of the Cosa Nostra.”

Something flashed across Lorenzo’s face. It was there and gone again. But I recognized rage when I saw it. “It’s your fault.”

Every part of me froze. “Excuse me?”

“If you hadn’t been in the house when Father David came to dinner, Cristian wouldn’t have lost his mentor. He wouldn’t have lost his way.”

It felt like my blood was being replaced with ice water. That I was being filled up from the inside, left to drown in my own body. “I suppose not,” I said, voice tight. “But your brother would still be working with a murderer, who could have corrupted him.”

Lorenzo shrugged. “The same could be said about me, but he still sees me weekly.”

The conversation lulled when the waitress came for our orders. She only ever made eye contact with me, and I tried to keep a smile on my face to show her that everything was okay…even if nothing was okay.

When she bustled away to place our order, I looked at Lorenzo, trying to find the man who loved me beneath this veneer of misplaced anger and scorn. “So, you think that I’m the reason that Cristian is suffering? Because I happened to be in a specific location at a specific time?”

Lorenzo lip curled into a snarl. “If you hadn’t?—”

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