Chapter 34 – Isabella
T he air in the great room was thick with unspoken grief. Men in dark suits moved slowly, stiffly, their faces drawn and their eyes hollow, as if the weight of their sorrow was too much to carry. It took a great tragedy, like the assassination of a capo and his sons, to silence the loud, boisterous soldiers of the famiglia. Each handshake, each nod of acknowledgment, seemed heavy with things they couldn’t find the words to say. These men couldn’t deal with complex emotions. Any minute now, and their inability to express themselves would boil over into a raw explosion of anger. That was why it was important to keep them eating. When their hands and mouths were occupied, their wrath took a back seat.
Unfortunately, along with the consumption of food was a desperate thirst. Wine flowed from bottle to cup, a veritable river of crimson. The house staff were at their wits’ end as they hurried from the back to the front, taking the empty and discarded to replace with full and fresh.
My place in this mess? It was a fine line to walk as a hostess without demoting myself to help. The strega made sure to point out my every mistake. Like a damn crow, she was always lurking in the eaves, ready to pounce with fingers eager to pinch and prod. Her withered lips were in a constant sneer, and her tongue was sharp with rebukes.
It didn’t stop me from taking care of the guests. They were our men, soldiers from my father’s reign.
And I had words for the monster preying on them. It was the only thing that kept me sane the whole morning, planning what to say and how to sneak away to say it. My absence would be noticed if I disappeared for too long.
Oh, but I was going to tear the Russian a new hole. How dare he slaughter the Gianetti boys. The father? Sure. He was a rotten man. Did he deserve it? Probably, if rumors were to be believed, but the sons hadn’t had time to flourish, to make their choices and leave a mark on the world.
At least the youngest was my age. Not that the detail made it right, but twenty-three wasn’t a child.
I paused by the door. How old was Ilya? For that matter, what about other details? Favorite meal? Did he like sports?
And how the hell was he so good at killing?
A shiver rattled down my spine. That didn’t bother me so much as spike my curiosity. I knew nothing about the man, but it didn’t change the way I felt. I liked him—I liked him a lot. Even though he was killing our soldiers.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a dark presence crept through the house. I looked toward the door to the great room, where the underboss and his son entered. A moment later, Ilya’s frame filled the space. My gaze swept over his body, looking for injuries. He seemed fine. I let out a short breath. Of course, he was just fine. Excitement and anticipation fluttered in my stomach, despite my resolve to be mad at him.
The Fabrizis advanced into the room, greeting soldiers as they passed. Father and son stopped by the first casket, heads bowed, their expressions hardened but was it by loss or the desire for vengeance? The cruel twist of their mouths was a warning that rattled like a snake’s tail or flashed like the fang of a predator.
Those two could slumber in a cushioned box, and I would feel nothing but relief.
Ilya took up his position at the back of the room, one hand clasping the opposite wrist and feet planted firmly apart. It took everything I had not to stare.
The four remaining capos gathered in a small cluster, murmuring in low voices that echoed like a distant wave of sadness. The moment Tullio joined them, a hush fell over the group. The silence pulsed from that corner of the room. Swift glances flashed toward the don, who stood next to Signora Gianetti.
Madonna! They are plotting.
I swallowed hard. My gaze whipped around, looking for Alonzo. He wasn’t here. I hurried to the dining room, where a spread was laid on the table. Groups of soldiers milled about, their conversation more animated without the dead softening their volume.
My fiancé was in the kitchen of all places. He was heating a mug in the microwave.
“There you are,” I breathed.
Alonzo blinked at me, eyes wide like an owl. “Signora Rossi wanted a cup of warm milk. She said it’s nearly her bedtime, and it will be too late by the time she gets a ride home.”
A fond smile played on my lips. I couldn’t help it. This lad was amazing. His kindness and willingness to serve would be great qualities in leadership—just not a mob syndicate.
“That’s very nice of you,” I said, dropping onto a barstool at the back of the long counter. It crossed my mind to slip some more of that magical tonic into the wine bottles. If soldiers grew violently ill tonight, it would help when I dosed Gio again. No doubt, the whole organization, even the trainees, would be called out to exact vengeance on the Scorsos.
Several members of the staff bustled into the room, threw us hasty glances filled with annoyance, and then retreated to go about their work.
“What did you need, Isabella?” Alonzo plucked the steaming mug from the microwave and turned around to face me.
While I needed him to leave so I could poison the Made Men, I also needed to speak with him. I glanced over the room. We were alone, although it wouldn’t last. “I think the capos are plotting.”
Alonzo nodded. “My father pulled me aside this morning. He wants me to make a bid for Gianetti’s position after the funeral tomorrow when everyone comes back here for dinner.”
But if Cosimo beats you to it? I sighed. They were both extremely young by society’s standards, but youths had been dons or bosses before.
“Can I do anything?” I offered.
Alonzo gave me a blistering grin, and while his face lit up, he also looked so much younger. “If you can throw any weight with the signoras, so they have good things to say to their husbands about me, I would appreciate it.”
He asked the impossible. The men would see me as more of an authority than the women if my wedding planning was any indication. The matrons didn’t respect me, and their daughters abhorred me. Not that their men listened to them anyhow. But for Alonzo’s sake, I could try.
One more impish smirk, and Alonzo left.
With a sigh, I reached for the bottle of expensive champagne. It wasn’t supposed to be up here from the cellar, but since it was, I might as well open it and serve it to one of the capo’s wives. Angela would guzzle it, and maybe, just maybe, I could get her to throw in a good word to her husband.
Might not be the wisest thing to poison him if he needed to be coherent for that discussion.
Reaching across the counter for the dish rag to twist the cork open, the back legs of the chair lifted. My fingers brushed the cloth when a voice melted from the darkness.
“Careful now. Can’t have you falling, Izzy.”
I rounded on the spectre, but the motion made the balance shift too quickly. As I caught the counter to steady myself, my arm knocked off the four-thousand-dollar bottle of bubbly.
Glass shattered, and the released pressure spewed liquid over the floor and across the cabinets.
“Thanks,” I snapped. That would have been delicious.
I jumped from the stool and knelt to mop the mess.
“You seemed so angry in the other room,” Ilya commented.
“Damn right, I’m angry.” I slashed the rag across the floor.
“What’s wrong?”
“You!” I stabbed a finger in the air and lowered my voice. “You killed the capo and his sons.”
A muscle in his jaw hardened.
“What? No comment, phantom?” I seethed. Shaking my head in disgust, I continued mopping. I dropped to my knees, and a sharp bite of pain cut through the skin.
I reared back, cursing violently in Italian. Glass protruded from my skin.
Two firm hands gripped me under the arms. I hadn’t heard the monster move. Like the predator he was, he could move his bulk silently over the space.
“Let me go,” I hissed.
“You’re hurt.”
I smacked him. “The staff will be back here any second.”
Ilya deposited me next to the sink. He reached underneath and plucked a first aid kit.
Surprise tied my tongue. He knew exactly where that was.
He opened the lid, sifting through the contents. But I pushed against his body. “You have to get out of here. If I’m discovered alone with a man, it will be bad for me!”
An angry exhale made his nostrils flare. He leaned forward until our cheeks brushed. “They were plotting to kill you, Izzy. I will never apologize for ending those who seek to harm you,” he murmured against my ear.
If I turned my head, I would brush my lips across his skin. My heart skipped a damn beat. So close, but not touching. He was a ghost, right there, right within my grasp. I very badly wanted to turn to him.
But he pulled away and disappeared a moment later.
And good thing! Cecilia sailed into the kitchen, chewing out the housekeeper as she did.
The words died on her lips as she took me in. “What happened?”
I looked at the mess on the floor and then at my knee. “I was…trying to help the staff.”
The strega flew at me, ripping the cloth away from my injury. “Careless! Stupid girl!”
Her palm cracked across my cheek.
“Zia!” Alonzo barked, appearing on the threshold.
My knight in shining armor! Guilt twisted in my heart, there was none of the fire that burned in me at his appearance. Instead, fear for his safety sprang up to gnaw at me.
“You will not hit my fiancée.” Alonzo advanced.
“She broke a bottle of our prized champagne,” Cecilia snarled.
“I asked her to serve it,” Alonzo countered, jumping to my defense.
Internally, I screamed at him to be quiet.
“You have no business with the vintages!” Cecilia reached up and boxed his ears. “Do you two not understand what people will think of us? Idiot boy, we have a reputation to uphold, an image to present to the public. You bring a mug to the old lady? Don’t think I didn’t see that! You’re foolish, Alonzo. Foolish like your whore of a mother.”
Aunt struck nephew again and again.
He took the blows like a man.
“Clean this up, make yourselves presentable, and don’t let me catch you doing servant’s work, either of you!” the strega screamed.
She left, disappearing into the butler’s pantry with the housekeeper. The poor woman was on the receiving end of an earful.
“I hate her,” Alonzo muttered.
I let out a rough laugh. “That makes two of us.”
“Your knee?” Alonzo moved to my side, worry lacing his features.
I drew the injury closer to my body, shying away from his advance. I didn’t want his touch. It would be all wrong, too soft. No…I needed the hardness, the solid presence with the gentleness that only showed for me.
“I’m fine,” I promised. “Go back out there. Socialize with the wives.”
To his credit, my fiancé hesitated. For a moment. Indecision hung in the balance. But like the good boy he was, he obeyed, abandoning me. My heart sighed, but I forced myself to move. In the few moments of solitude, I set to work. Six vials of poison found their way into as many decanters of red wine. By the time the maids found me wiping up the broken glass, they were none the wiser as to my nefarious dealings.