Chapter 12 – Isabella
W hat I knew about my stalker was that he was big and mysterious. But damn did he have good taste. I lovingly stroked the new cotton throw. It took a bit of care not to let any of the blowing leaves catch in the fibers of the knit, but I was cozy, wrapped in the blanket, and had been out here for an hour before the appointed time. My guards were no doubt fuming, but playing a silly ditz who’d gotten the time wrong was par for the course with me. It meant I could enjoy some alone time in the pumpkin patch, away from the mansion, the ever-present strega, and the damn wedding planning.
It meant I could have a moment to pretend I was a normal girl.
Not that normal girls were gifted their favorite things by strange men spying on them.
Too bad I told him to stop . I sighed. Why did my bliss have to end? Even if I wasn’t being forced into a political marriage, having a stalker was creepy. Knowing that someone came into my room, night after night to leave me thoughtful tokens should have bothered me. It didn’t. Was it because I grew up in a criminal family? My earliest memories were those of being exposed to dangerous men. I was no doubt numb to threats. Or maybe my situation was so bad that this seemed the lesser of two evils.
This was a twisted game; he was here for something. While I wanted to know what that was, I didn’t want him to be hurt by the Made Men. So I’d allowed him to play it longer than he should have.
And then, last week, I ended it. He hadn’t come back. There had been no more presents left in the middle of the night.
An ache tightened in my chest. It was good that it was done. I shouldn’t be growing fond of an intruder, however…this man was anything but a red flag. He brought me my favorite things. He…took care of me.
No one did that.
And dammit, I liked having someone think of me and my wants.
It had to end. Such a scandalous interaction couldn’t continue with my impending marriage. But a few more days being the center of someone else’s attention would’ve been nice.
Now there was nothing left to do but lose myself to the pages of a fantasy world and watch how another orphaned girl dealt with the hungry power players in her world. At least the lost queen had friends, strange allies though they were. I sipped the hot cider, which had been left the other night with a basket of treats. It’d been a game of Mission Impossible to discreetly warm and place the cider in my thermos before leaving the house. It was the last sweet treat, and I was savoring the crisp flavor. The page of my Kindle flipped to the part where the witchling emerged as the leader of the combined clans of witches with her faithful wyvern. From past reads of this series, I knew she would be a powerful ally. I wished I had one. I probably read this series three times, but after skipping parts I didn’t like, and reading the parts I did over and over, it was hard to say.
Yep, I was one of those romantasy girlies who escaped to the pages of books when the troubles in her life became unbearable. Reading really was better than therapy, not that a therapist would believe the Greek tragedy that was my life. My reality was the stuff of fiction.
A laugh barked in my throat at that, and I let another half hour pass pleasantly enough.
The crunch of leaves warned me that I wasn’t alone. It was the time Gio and I actually agreed on. With a sigh, I closed my Kindle. Looking over the grass, brilliantly lit by daylight, I couldn’t help smiling as little Giovani wandered toward me. He was kicking the leaves on purpose. He might have grumbled terribly about going pumpkin picking with me, but in the end, my brother gave in to my pestering.
“Only you would sit outside, freezing your ass off, and think this is fun.” Gio scowled at me.
Rubbing my hands, I tugged my thin cotton gloves onto stiff fingers. I hadn’t realized it was this cold with such bright sunshine warming my back. “It’s hard to enjoy the outdoors in winter. I have to soak up every drop of the remaining sunlight.”
Gio squatted and helped me gather my things into the wicker basket. “You skipped adulthood and turned into a granny. Is that knitting?”
I tugged the yarn and needles away. “I’m not in my granny era. My clothes are too cute for that.”
Gio rolled his eyes, and I smacked his shoulder.
“Ah, don’t touch me!” Gio laughed, making the sign of the cross. “I don’t want to catch your curse.”
Huffing out a breathless laugh, I left my basket and darted after my little brother. My trendy ankle boots were not only adorable, but they were also practical for ambling around the broken earth of the pumpkin patch. There was a slight nip in the air, proof that autumn was in full swing. The chill was invigorating, making our cheeks rosy and our breath visible in little puffs of mist. But despite the coolness, a deep sense of warmth and contentment pulsed through me. My brother’s presence was a comforting constant, and our shared laughter proved how rare events like this actually were.
This boy was my everything.
Gio whipped around, running backward as he pointed a finger at me. “Maledetta, maledetta!”
“I’m not cursed,” I wailed, missing his arm.
“First the caterer’s kitchen burns down,” Gio began, ticking the items off on his fingers. “Then the bakery was found rat infested. Then the florist’s shop had a leaky pipe that flooded the building—the whole building, Izzy. The DJ disappeared. Gone. Poof! The officiant died in his bed. As if that wasn’t bad enough,” Gio raised his voice, “the fucking venue burned down.”
“Watch your mouth.” This time, I landed a solid smack on his arm.
He grinned like the lunatic he was. “They say you’re cursed and shouldn’t be getting married. The women of the famiglia are beside themselves.”
They were. What they didn’t know, what they could never know, was that I rejoiced in the destruction. While Alonzo was a perfectly nice boy, my dearest wish was being granted. My secret, forbidden wish. The wedding was falling apart through no fault of my own.
Maybe Gio and I can survive this nightmare.
Hiding the shudder that ran down my spine, I raised my hands in surrender. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Tell that to le donne.” His eyebrows wiggled with impish delight.
The women of the famiglia were a bunch of silly hens. They squawked and jabbered over every little thing.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” I snapped.
When Gio began reciting passages of the liturgy to chase away the bad spirits, I launched myself at him. The force of the movement sent us both to the ground, sprawling on top of a plant and narrowly missing taking out the twin pumpkins.
Lying on the ground, panting and laughing, I found I could breathe—actually breathe—for the first time in weeks. The fresh scents filled my lungs and soothed my soul. The earth and decaying leaves mingled with the faint, sweet aroma of ripening pumpkins. The crisp fall day was no match for the brilliant burst of sunlight trickling through the trees.
“I have something for you.” Gio reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. “Non e vero, ma ci credo.” It’s not true, but I believe it.
“You brat,” I hissed, but he could hear the love behind the jab. Inside the box was a piece of red coral on a gold chain. It looked like a chili pepper, but it wasn’t. This was a horn amulet believed in the Old World to ward off evil—a cornicello.
“Better wear it,” he whispered conspiratorially. “It’s almost like your wedding is being haunted. Can’t have anything happening to the bride.”
I pulled the cotton gloves off my fingers, refusing to notice how they shook as I reached to clasp the chain around my neck. It was the perfect day. The sun’s rays filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground and making the leaves glisten with a rich palette of reds, oranges, and yellows. But I couldn’t dispel the gloom that crept around the edges, threatening to spoil everything.
“Thank you, Gio, it’s beautiful,” I breathed. “So! What’s new with you?”
“Not much.”
“Gio,” I protested.
My baby brother pushed to his feet. I couldn’t help but admire the agility. I was fit, but I was never that lithe. I scrambled to stand with much less elegance, dusting the dirt and decay from my skirt. Luckily, my tights weren’t torn.
“I know you aren’t just sitting and playing video games. What about school? Anything new there?” I pushed.
His face scrunched in disgust. “That’s such a waste of time.”
I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and gave him a shake. “You have to study! You think papa came to this country to have his son be an idiot?”
“Don Aldo didn’t go to high school,” Gio muttered. “He said real education is learned on the streets.”
Madonna! He wants to join the mob! I lifted my eyes to the heavens seeking supplication. As if there weren’t enough troubles already on my plate. Deep breaths filled my lungs, but they did nothing to calm my racing heart.
“Gio, you can’t quit school to become a soldier. You need your smarts if you’re ever going to be a capo or—” Or more.
My brother pulled away. “Let’s find you a pumpkin.”
There was nothing to do but trudge after him. The sun shone brightly overhead, casting a warm golden hue over the sprawling pumpkin patch. The perfect fall day was a mockery. Instead of embracing the season’s coziness and the vivid beauty, panic leeched into my veins. Gio was going down the wrong path, and I didn’t know if there was anything I could do to pull him back.
He’s just a kid….
How many youths found themselves thrown into the blood bath that was the criminal underworld? A shudder ran through my body. The vibrant colors faded, and I focused on the dirt and rot that I stepped on.
“These pumpkins are amazing. I can’t believe you aren’t allowed to decorate the house with them. It would make everything so much more festive,” Gio said, pointing at the orange lumps.
I hummed at the back of my throat. What was the point of enjoying these, when it was all a distraction from the harsher truths of reality?
Gio continued to ramble as if my good mood hadn’t shifted. He kept imagining stories for the pumpkins, pointing out the amusing shapes. Some were squat and wide, others tall and misshapen, with odd lumps and bumps that gave them unique personalities. I tried, I really did. But my laughter was forced, and I wanted to smash the quirky gourds, letting them be an outlet for my frustration. Gio was so young! This should be the sum of his life. Not a care in the world—except, maybe a girl in class who didn’t like him back. That was normal young adult drama. But instead, the darker truths lurked like the scavenger birds circling the field.
As if on cue, a crow’s call ripped through the heavens, adding to the haunted feeling that I couldn’t shake. My gaze shot across the patch, scanning for dangers I knew would come. I defied them. I might only be made of flesh and bones, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect this boy.
Maybe fighting Gio isn’t the way.
The sudden realization sent me staggering backward.
“You okay?” Gio rounded on me with a skeptical look.
I swallowed hard. “Great! I think this is the one.”
Dropping to my haunches, I absently patted the sun-warmed pumpkin. The rough texture of the skin under my bare fingers was oddly reassuring as my mind raced with the new strings of ideas. Instead of telling Gio he shouldn’t join the ranks of associates, who needed to earn their place as soldiers, I should help him navigate the course his life seemed destined to take. There would be no avoiding the life of crime. But if he could survive it….
Hope swelled in my chest. Gio squatted to grab the pumpkin. The blade of his pocketknife flashed in the sunlight. In one swift move, he sliced the vine in a vicious flick.
“We should go target practicing!” I blurted out.
Those dark brown brows drew together as he looked up at me. “Shooting? You want to go shooting?”
“Yes!” I nodded eagerly.
“Won’t that ruin your nails?” he teased.
I pursed my lips. “I bet I can shoot more of these pumpkins than you!”
It wasn’t an idle bet either. I was a damn good shot. But we could always be better. And making sure Gio could protect himself was suddenly of the utmost importance.
“Um, sure.” Gio rolled the pumpkin around.
“Great! I’ll have some of the prepicked pumpkins loaded into the SUV, and we can go out this evening before it gets too dark.”
Gio let out a strangled laugh. “Can’t tonight.”
“Oh.” I tried not to let my chest deflate.
“Maybe this weekend?” he offered quickly. “Or the next?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Whatcha doing tonight?”
With a grunt, Gio deadlifted the pumpkin. “There’s a fight. A bunch of us are going—Alonzo’s going. Didn’t he tell you?”
I hadn’t spoken to my fiancé in several days other than to ask him to pass the pepper at dinner. “He said something about it,” I fibbed.
His voice grew animated. “Yeah! There’s a new fighter in town. Some Russian they call the bear killer. He’s undefeated! Carlo Vesconti saw him a week ago and said it was the most brutal thing he’d ever seen.”
That sounded like fun. And if I was going to influence my brother, I needed to use every opportunity.
“I’m going to come with,” I declared.
Gio snorted. “Sure thing.”
What he didn’t say was that I wouldn’t be allowed to leave the mansion on my own.
“I am. I’ll have Alonzo escort me.” It wasn’t like my fiancé would tell me no. Not if I was persuasive. There was a damn spring in my step. If I showed an interest in my brother’s life, if I kept him close, I could protect him, which was what I’d been doing ever since the terrible news of our parents’ deaths. It would work; I would accept nothing less.