Chapter 24 – Isabella
A n ideal bridal shower would be my favorite themes spread out and used to decorate. A cozy gathering would be easiest. If I could trust them to do a cosplay fantasy romance ball, even better. Any excuse to dress up would be amazing. Or a simpler alternative, we could be doing an activity! Something seasonal, since I was certain my nature spirit was an autumn. We could be out picking apples at an orchard, riding on a hay wagon, and maybe petting goats. Since no one bothered to ask me what I would like, I was in a frumpy tweed skirt suit, sipping weak tea and ignoring the dry cucumber finger sandwich on my plate. The room looked like a blush palate threw up on a gold and white room. There wasn’t a pumpkin, stalk of harvest wheat, or fall bloom to be seen let alone a warrior queen’s crown or a night court fae’s gown.
Wandering to the window, I gazed at the blazing maple outside. I have no say….
In anything.
One of Signora Modesti’s pugs trotted over. Each eye went in different directions, and the poor thing’s tongue lolled to the side. Tossing a quick glance around the room to make sure no one saw, I nudged the finger sandwich from my plate.
The pug darted over and made short work of the food. He snorted and coughed as he ate. I wouldn’t be surprised if he choked. The little critter was inbred and extremely unhealthy. I didn’t need a veterinarian’s degree to know that.
I wandered away from the crime scene to deposit my dishes on a tray one of the house staff held as she moved through the room.
“There you are, my dear,” Cecilia said with fake affection. Her fingers dug into my flesh as she navigated me into the sitting room.
I was forced to fold myself onto a brocade sofa, where I was immediately pelted with questions about the big day.
“I can’t believe the wedding is still moving forward,” Rosa Eminati gushed.
That makes two of us. With everything that was happening, it seemed a farce.
“And why wouldn’t it?” Cecilia snapped.
I winced inwardly for Rosa’s sake. No one else mentioned the lunacy of continuing the act of my happily ever after. They asked for details, which the strega answered with clipped, scathing remarks.
“Why don’t you open your gifts,” Signora Modesti suggested.
With a nod, I agreed. “Of course.”
The ladies gathered around. Pale packages in various shades of cream and pink were set one after the other beside me. Cecilia hovered, always finding something to say about the gifts. It quickly became mechanical, tearing the paper and showing off what was inside the box.
“I just couldn’t decide between the crystal vases on your registry, so I purchased both,” Caterina purred. She actually sounded feline. “You have such exquisite taste, my dear Isabella.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I didn’t want or need these things when the next package was placed in my lap. It was as light as a feather. The paper was black with gold ribbon.
“Who’s that one from?” the strega sneered.
“There was no name,” Signora Modesti replied.
But I knew. My heart pattered wildly. I recognized that dark and bold wrapping, the same gold ribbon that decorated several other gifts. Biting the inside of my cheeks was the only way to keep from smiling, really and truly smiling.
My stalker was a cocky, relentless soul, I would give him that.
While I’d told him to leave me alone, this defiant gift pulsed warm in my lap. It was as if his presence leeched from the gift and was determined to break the colorless mood trying to suffocate my soul. He could never know how much I needed this gift, no matter what simple trinket lay inside, to boost my spirits this afternoon.
I carefully sliced the tape open. Underneath was a recognizable blue box. Confusion flickered through me. Normally, his gifts were spot-on, things I would adore. He couldn’t possibly think I would want something from the home department for my impending marriage, could he?
When I lifted the lid, my heart stopped. I blinked rapidly, staring at the mess inside the box.
And then I had to fight very, very hard to suppress the laughter. Delirious glee spread through my extremities, warming me.
“Well? What is it?” the strega snapped.
“One table knife,” I gulped. “And, um….”
“Who buys a single piece of cutlery? You registered for the entire Hampton set from Tiffany’s,” Cecilia pouted. She came around to peer into the box but recoiled sharply.
The organ in my chest launched into a rapid, nearly thunderous rhythm. My monster didn’t disappoint. There were ten bloody fingers next to the dinner knife.
Shrieks filled the room. But my eyes tracked the signet ring. G—for Gambino. The soldier who’d led the young recruits to destroy the warehouse the other night. The one who’d been rough with me. Rumor was that he’d disappeared that night. Well…I guess he had. The initial shock was quickly replaced by a rush of satisfaction. My chest swelled, and I fought to keep the grin off my face. While gruesome, this might have been the best gift to date.
***
“Make way, make way,” Tullio boomed from downstairs.
It hadn’t been that long since I opened the package, but it was safe to say my bridal shower was effectively ruined. I felt bad for my father’s cousin’s sake. Signora Modesti didn’t deserve this. Made Men were hurrying into her house, shouting and blustering. The poor woman was close to tears. Now that the underboss was here, I could only hope that order was restored quickly. However, his presence no doubt meant I would have to rejoin the party.
Sighing, I pushed off the bed and left the sanctuary of the guest bedroom. Trailing down the stairs, I peeped cautiously into the foyer of the brownstone.
“I was wondering where you were hiding.” The dark voice was soft and sensual.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I landed on the hardwood floor of the foyer and looked for the source.
“Here.” A hand shot out with a tempting offering.
“What do I want with that?” I eyed the white and green takeout coffee cup suspiciously.
“Take it,” he growled.
I plucked it from his grasp, careful not to touch him. Popping the plastic lid, I inhaled the spicy aroma of apples tempered with the sweetness of caramel—my favorite fall drink.
“Is it poisoned?” I took a sip. Hot and oh, so good.
Ilya shuffled. “I figured you had a shock, and this might take the edge off.”
I smiled into the drink as I sipped. My stalker had sent me the severed fingers of the bastard who’d pushed me but felt bad enough to bring me my favorite fall drink. What kind of monster did I discover in the dark of Chicago?
One of a kind.
“You’d better take it back,” I said, noticing the fallen expression. “They’ll have seen you come with it and will wonder how I got it.”
“The cup. I understand.” Ilya nodded slowly. “Wait right here.”
He disappeared.
I might not have the option. Already my name was being thrown around in the other room. Someone would venture upstairs to collect me soon enough.
“Did you see his champion fighter? They came straight from the training arena,” Rosa whispered as she slipped from the front parlor.
I slipped under the stairs, letting the shadows swallow me as the women passed.
Caterina fanned herself. “I don’t know where the underboss found him, but I want a bite.”
Rosa slapped her playfully. “You’re so bad!”
The other woman snickered. “Tullio will be sending prostitutes to sate his urges. I heard him place the order with my brother. Do you think I could pull off being a hooker?”
“For a night with him? I would try,” Rosa said eagerly.
They disappeared into the hall bathroom, probably to do a line of coke. A mixture of feelings swirled in my chest. I huddled deeper into the alcove, and my lip found its way between my teeth.
I shouldn’t care.
But there was no arguing with the sour feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t have Ilya, but why did the thought of someone else having him make me feel sick?
A laugh blew through my nose. Not even the shock of finding severed fingers, frozen and served in a Tiffany box could make me feel like this.
“Something is wrong with me,” I mouthed.
Awareness prickled across my skin, and my eyes snapped to find his grey ones as he emerged from the passage that led to the kitchens. He had a freaking mug in his hands.
Without a word, he took the coffee shop’s paper cup, dumped the contents into the mug, and handed the drink back to me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. “Thank you, Elijah .”
A muscle in his jaw flexed.
“I’ve been wondering,” I mused. “Why don’t you want them to know your Russian name?”
His gaze, glacial and overwhelming, clashed against mine. “I have my reasons.”
“Oh, and those are?” I quipped.
Something flickered through the monster’s features, but his mouth tightened in a clear indication that he wouldn’t tell me.
“Does it have to do with the reason why you’re here?” I pressed. “You’ve had your fun, haunting me, infiltrating my life, but how long can you hope for it to last? Hmm?”
Silence. Thick and smoldering, it pulsed between us.
“Ilya,” I pleaded. “You’re in over your head. What can you possibly hope to accomplish by coming here?”
At this point, I was venting my frustration. I knew he wouldn’t answer. But when he noiselessly walked to the front door, I let out a huff of annoyance.
Infuriating man! I couldn’t believe I thought fondly of his grotesque gift!
I was about to tell him just that, when footsteps warned me not to open my mouth. Just as the Russian cage fighter took up a guard position at the door, legs apart and arms clasped in front, Cecilia burst from the parlor. She stopped short when she saw me.
“I went to the kitchen for a hot beverage,” I explained, forcing my voice to sound feeble.
She pursed her lips. “There’d better not be any sugar in that. You’re on a strict wedding diet.”
I took a long gulp. “No sugar.”
“Well, come along. Signor Fabrizi wants to speak with you.”
Hurrying to avoid her pinching fingers, I sped into the parlor to answer the questions of the underboss. The icy grey gaze pinned my back, an unshakable presence that followed me into the lion’s den. The longer the interview lasted, the more grateful I grew for the monster’s terrible presence. It shouldn’t bolster me, but it did.