Chapter 17 – Isabella
T ipping the flute back, bubbles played over my tongue. The bright citrus notes were masked with a forced sweetness. Too many of these and I would be tipsy, possibly sick with gut rot. Part of the problem was there was nothing in my stomach to soak up the decadent carbonation. But Cecilia wasn’t here tonight, and I planned to gorge on the food. They couldn’t start the meal soon enough!
“Is that any good?” Alonzo asked quietly, coming up behind me.
I grimaced and kept walking through the gathering to the balcony. “It’s cheap.”
My fiancé hummed under his breath. “I would have thought father would go all out for tonight.”
I shrugged. “He might not want the Conti Famiglia to know how much money he’s worth. It wouldn’t be good for their business dealings.”
“Oh, I don’t disagree with you,” Alonzo laughed. “Frugality is not his usual style. Odd how this new partnership has brought out that side of him.”
Contracts that had been months in the making had finally been signed, thus the cause for tonight’s celebration between the two mobs. The only detail I knew for certain was that there would be peace between our two territories, but I suspected there was an increase in the profits of illegal drug running.
Stepping into the chill of the evening, I sighed. It was beautiful out here. Not quite cold enough to see sparkles in the air or moisture freezing on the grass, the nip was hard enough to make the hairs on my skin stand up on end and gooseflesh shiver across my body. I wanted nothing more than to slip off my heels, run barefoot through the chilly grass, and spin under the harvest crescent hanging low in the sky.
I glanced at the man beside me. The energy of the night was almost strong enough to make even the most unromantic encounters feel sensual. What would he do if I slid my hand through his? Danced over the length of the balcony, and then tugged him down the sweeping staircase to frolic in the grass?
Laugh at me—the crazy little Rinaldi girl.
With a sigh, I leaned against the stone railing of the club, gazing thoughtfully across the moonlit golf course. Alonzo mimicked my posture. We seemed drawn to one another yet again, him seeking me out at a social gathering. Not a bad trait to have with one’s spouse. But now…something was different. My insistence on coming to the fight had piqued his interest. Alonzo had been very attentive the last few days. We’d talked. We’d texted. And here we were, at another mob event, in each other’s company almost immediately. Since I didn’t mind his presence, the sudden friendliness was a pleasant change. It gave me hope for a brighter future.
Ice shivered down my spine.
If some phantom from the past didn’t destroy that possibility before it could be realized.
Mama mia! I hadn’t expected to see him at the fight. We arrived late because it had taken a crapload of convincing to allow me to leave the safety of the mansion. Alonzo brought me to our seats, and I saw him . Quietly waiting for the match to begin as if he were selecting a television show to watch. Seeing him there solidified two pieces in the puzzle that he presented. He was Russian—something I would never have guessed—and he was well enough connected in the underworld to land a prime spot in the illegal fights.
The moment his gaze turned on me, a fire burned low in my belly. I hadn’t been able to quench the flames since! The fighter—The Bear, they called him—was unstoppable, a primal force of nature.
But I already knew that. My body remembered the feel of him taking me hard in the dimly lit, upper office of the club in Chicago.
I had no idea he could fight like that.
As if sensing some of the spider web of my thoughts, Alonzo said, “You never said that you were interested in the fight circuits.”
“They fascinate me.” I lifted my hair, fanning my suddenly sensitive skin. The heat inside was oppressive. But this was more than the blaze of a crowd. I felt…distracted. It started a quarter of an hour ago, and I told myself I just needed a drink. When that didn’t work, I’d made my escape out here.
Alonzo’s vehement whisper cracked through the night. “I hate them.”
The brutal honesty in his voice made me turn sharply. What kind of future mob boss hated fighting? “You do?”
He nodded. “Illegal fight clubs are barbaric. It might be the Twenty-First Century, but humankind still reverts to their baser, animal instincts. We say we’re so progressive? It’s a lie.”
I gave him a sad smile. “That’s very enlightened of you.”
A short breath blew from his nose. “The don would be so proud to hear his son discussing philosophy instead of mob politics.”
“I won’t tell.” I reached out and squeezed his arm.
The look he gave me was full of something raw and vulnerable. I held his stare, offering him what reassurance I could through the smallest of touches. Alonzo looked down at my hand, then back to my face. My mouth.
I held my breath as a sudden burn crept over my skin. There was no one else out here. And yet, I couldn’t shake the malicious feeling.
Smiling like an idiot, I dropped my hand and turned to look over the country club. The feeling didn’t leave.
The French doors behind us banged open. I flicked an annoyed glance at the swaggering gangster and his friends, who were lighting up cigarettes. Now that the peace was effectively ruined, it was time to go back into the chaos of the party.
“Come on,” I said, beginning to move back to the other set of doors.
“Why should we have to go?” Alonzo muttered.
I stifled a groan in my chest. Book smart, not street.
I was about to open my mouth and explain that these thugs weren’t our men and were likely dangerous to be around. If we were lucky, they would respect us because of the contracts signed by both dons, but they wouldn’t be opposed to a little fun at our expense. It was how mobsters amused themselves.
“What’s the matter? Does our presence offend you?” one of them called out.
His friends chuckled and murmured jabs.
“The lady shouldn’t have to tolerate your noxious smoke,” Alonzo countered.
Funny, I would kill for a drag right about now. Not that my fiancé could know his soon to-be lady wife indulged in the occasional poison stick—when she could get her hands on one—to calm her nerves. “We’re going to find something to eat and—”
“Noxious smoke?” the Conti rumbled. “What the fuck does that mean, pig?”
Okay, it was time to go. Now. That man had several pounds of muscle on Alonzo, even though he wasn’t nearly as tall.
I rounded to stand in front of my fiancé. Leveling him with a hard look, I snapped, “Back inside.”
“Listen to your mama, little boy,” one of the friends called.
It all happened so fast.
Alonzo launched forward, the champion knight valiantly ready to defend my honor.
I blocked his path before heavy hands clamped around my waist.
“She wants to play too.” Moist spittle splayed across my cheek. The man hauled me back, his buddies advancing to intercept Alonzo.
My pulse roared in my ears. I kicked for everything I was worth. If I wasn’t in this damned dress, he would be sorry! I struggled, bucking and wriggling. My elbow jabbed back, but met with air. Cackles ensued over my pitiful attempt. So I tried again.
Heel connected with flesh.
A scream rang out, and my feet were stumbling back across the balcony.
I turned just in time to see the man who’d been holding me slump to the floor.
A familiar spectral form battled in the shadows. It was him. The stalker, the underground fighter, found me.
He’s here.
My heart beat double as the hunger that burned in me at the memory of his body pressed against mine rose to consume every other feeling.
A blur of motion ensued. I stood rooted in place, trying to make sense of the mess. Shouts of indignation were swallowed by screams of pain. Softer sounds promised a more horrific reality as a solid object beat against soft flesh. There had been half a dozen mobsters come out to the dark to smoke. And yet, a monster descended on their group and was dropping them like dominos.
I shot into the mess just in time to tug Alonzo back. His reflexes were slow to begin with, but added with the flurry of the situation, he was likely to be trampled.
“Don’t kill them, phantom!” I shouted over my shoulder.
Or tried to. My voice croaked, and the words clawed at my throat.
Although I couldn’t see the beast’s face, I didn’t have to. That sixth sense recognized him. My body was drawn to him.
The Russian fighter shot me a look.
It lasted no longer than a heartbeat, but there was something unnamable in that moment. It settled in my very bones, gripping and refusing to let go.
Or maybe it had been there all along, and I was only now aware of it.
As I tried to regain balance in a world turned to madness, the fight ended. The realization flickered in the back of my mind that I was leaning against the stone rail of the balcony for support. I couldn’t seem to draw a proper breath.
Alonzo, however, leapt to attention, taking charge of the situation with grace and poise. “Sir, I thank you for the assistance.” He stuck out his hand. “Well done, old chap.”
The frigid gaze shot over my fiancé and landed on me. I felt its cold touch run up and down my body. Assessing for injuries. I wanted to scream at him that I was just fine. That we would have been fine if he hadn’t appeared. But the words wouldn’t form on my tongue.
Sliding a look back to the don’s son, the beast simply glared at the outstretched hand.