Chapter 40 – Isabella
A few days came and went since my last encounter with Ilya. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. Little gifts appeared when I least expected them. The adult coloring book from my favorite fantasy series with a box of colored pencils was on my desk one morning. The dessert I was denied at the lady’s luncheon waited for me on my bookshelf, discreetly tucked in the knickknacks. A maid cleaning my room wouldn’t have noticed it, but I immediately saw the apple turnover when I stepped in that night. A song request came on the radio for Lesbia from Catullus while I was in the car going to the church with Alonzo for a premarital session, and when we left the song played again. According to the DJ, the passionate lover was wooing his girl.
Me. That girl was me.
This morning, there was a bag of my favorite candy. It wasn’t gourmet. It was regular, good old Mars mixed mini chocolates. I popped another Twix in my mouth and moaned. My clutch was full of the treats. Well…the torn lining was. If the strega took my bag she wouldn’t see anything suspicious, while I could indulge my sweet tooth all night long. I chuckled gleefully.
It was Halloween. I had a kick ass costume, good old candy, and was going to a masked party.
The ball had almost been canceled with the number of deaths going around. The Made Men were on high alert, but it was too important to miss this. It would signal to both our allies and our enemies that we were having internal problems. Besides, this was a business event, and high-rolling societal people would be there. In order to keep our legal shareholders happy, we needed to pretend everything was just fine, that we weren’t falling apart.
While I was having fun, the don and his crony would be squirming.
I popped another mini Milky Way between my lips and grinned at my reflection. Ilya would be there, guarding his employer. Rumor had it he’d won another fight last night. And yet he’d had time to bring me a bag of candy and a bouquet of deep burgundy dahlias, rich black roses, and lush baby’s breath that made for a spider web effect, along with a breakfast sandwich, kept hot in an insulated bag.
I couldn’t get over how beautiful the flowers were, sitting on my bathroom vanity. The wedding might be this weekend, but there was a dark promise attached to the bouquet of flowers. It promised freedom. Well, I was brave enough to escape now. Gio would be safe, Ilya made me an oath. Alonzo’s safety was also begrudgingly given. There was nothing more that needed to be asked.
Swinging my mask from my fingers, I skipped down the stairs, finally ready to have some fun.
“ What are you wearing?” Cecilia gasped.
I faltered on the top step. The cut of the gown might be lower than I normally wore, but it still concealed ample cleavage. “It’s a costume, Cece.”
The hated nickname fell from my lips and a wave of dread shot through me. She was going to make me change.
“It looks a little plain,” the don observed, coming from his office wearing full 18 th Century Venetian regalia. “How is that a costume?”
They wouldn’t understand the gold snake curving up my spine, nor would they know who Emilia Maria di Carlo was. Just because our little group was going as masked Venetians didn’t mean I couldn’t choose to be one of my favorite fictional characters, who also happened to be of Italian origin, albeit with supernatural roots.
Ilya would make a good Wicked. He probably was a prince from hell, just in human disguise. I looked down to hide my smirk of fiendish delight. It felt so good, so damn good to be imaginative again.
“Cool snake,” Gio quipped, coming up behind me.
“Is that…a tattoo?” Alonzo murmured, and I prayed his words didn’t descend below.
No such luck. Cecilia exploded. My fiancé gave me a sheepish look, offering me his arm by way of apology for setting the witch off.
“It’s a detachable accent piece for the dress,” I explained as we descended.
“Isabella looks fine; it’s the boy who looks like a damn string bean,” the don muttered to his sister. Louder, he barked, “We’ll be late. Hurry up, you two.”
I bristled. Alonzo was dedicated to weightlifting. Was it his fault his muscles stayed lean instead of bulking? But with the ever-present reputation that we all were expected to uphold, the poor boy would never be strong enough to lift his end of the weight.
The don opened the door, and that was the end of the conversation. For right now. The strega shot me a look that promised this wasn’t over. Just because I didn’t want to look like a puritanical lady from the 1700s with the high lace neckline to match her…I sighed. Ilya couldn’t take me away soon enough.
As I looked over my brother and fiancé, I wondered for the thousandth time what would happen to them once we were free of the famiglia. I would push for my brother to come with us. He could finish high school, and then lead a normal life. Alonzo? My monster was jealous and wouldn’t like the younger man tagging along. The best thing for him would be to enroll in a university. He could study the philosophy and other academics he was so fond of—maybe become a professor! With fake I.D.s, we could go anywhere and be anything, so long as we stayed away from the eastern cities where we could be recognized.
The best part—neither of them would be involved in the criminal underworld any longer.
Thoughts of a future where I could make my own choices, carve my own destiny, occupied my mind on the drive to the ball and while we began the tedious song and dance of rubbing elbows with the elites. There was a costume competition associated with the grand march, and only the higher ticket holders were participating in the parade to begin the evening’s festivities. Our party, of course, had one of those coveted tickets. Whichever socialite cooked up this mad idea actually showed a stroke of genius. The exclusive ticket holders were in high spirits, comparing their costumes while they waited to descend upon the less fortunate guests already in the ballroom. Our costumes weren’t bad, but we hadn’t spent nearly the insane time and money that others had to make theirs. Hollywood had been summoned for over half the participants. Mingling on the second story with groups of politicians, businessmen, and other social movers and shakers, I couldn’t help but feel relief that I would be leaving these circles.
A quiet life with Ilya. That satisfying idea was already going to great lengths to heal the part of my soul I thought was broken beyond repair.
My gaze roved over the assembly area. This historic house was normally a museum but was extra festive with the Halloween décor. What I wouldn’t give to break away, ramble through the exhibits with the low, ambient glow of a lantern as my guide. The grand architecture was the tycoon’s statement to the world a century ago, and even with my imagination, I wouldn’t picture this place as a home. Mausoleum, sure. The dead likely crawled from their crypts most nights and prowled these halls after the last visitor left to make sure their worldly legacy stayed intact. What would they do tonight, when the veil between life and death was said to be at its thinnest? Dance with us at the ball?
The fanciful thoughts occupied my mind, distracting me from the tedious wait. But imagination failed me the moment the underboss arrived. Gio broke from our group to disappear with Cosimo. They were the only young members of the famiglia here and naturally were drawn to one another.
Anger trickled through my veins, and I shuffled in place. “I’m going to go find a bottle of water,” I said, since declaring my intent to find something stronger wouldn’t go over well.
“We’ll be announced for the grand entrance in five minutes,” Cecilia snapped. “There isn’t time.”
“There’s plenty of time,” Alonzo protested. “Plus, the boys are already inside.”
The strega huffed. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to win best costume with Isabella looking as unauthentic as she does.”
I hurried away. There was a long table set up here with refreshments for those waiting to walk down the sweeping staircase and be admired by the gathering.
A voice, low and sensual, brushed across the bare skin of my arm. “‘Why do villains always wear black?’ she asked, to which the king of hell replied, ‘Better to hide the blood with, witch.’”
“Did you just quote my second favorite fantasy book?” I breathed.
A low murmur of assent brushed against me like a sensual tendril.
“Clever man, quoting my favorite things,” I teased. “You should read it, though, it’s really good.”
His voice turned to velvet. “I did. For you.”
My poor heart was going to burst from the sensation of being adored. It was all that I could do to draw in a ragged inhale. Let it go. And try for another. The bottle of water shook in my hands, a bit splashing down my chin and onto my chest. I gave up trying to drink until I had something solid to brace me.
Taking three steps backward, I placed myself in the archway, leaning against the frame. No one would see the phantasmal presence hiding behind me in the shadows, and from all appearances, it would seem that I was watching the crowd.
“What is my bewitching beauty thinking?” the darkness rasped.
“How I can’t wait to get out of this dress,” I said, barely moving my lips.
Ilya hummed, the sound deep and rough. “Really? You seemed…sad.”
Had I? What had I been thinking about when he saw me just now? Oh…right.
“Tell me,” Ilya coaxed. Although he was hidden by the arching wall, his hand came behind me to brush along the golden snake curving down my spine. “I saw this, followed it to the website, and lost myself to looking at all the fandom artifacts.”
“Is that the only book you read?” I asked a touch breathlessly.
“No,” he chuckled darkly. “I’ve been consuming the stories you like in audiobooks while I train.”
A pleasant surprise shot straight through me. I would have rounded on him, giving away this illicit encounter, if his touch hadn’t hardened against my lower spine.
“Easy,” he growled.
My heart pattered against my ribs. Yet again, this man showed his determination to know me . It gave me the courage to open up, to share the piece of myself that no one knew.
“You asked what I was thinking about?” I murmured, hiding my words behind the glass bottle of bubbling water. The carbonated liquid slid down my throat, teasing and tickling the words that were already struggling to find a way out into the world. “When I was nine, I told my mother I wanted to live in a little house, down by the sea. I drew out this whole future, dreaming it up. And she…squashed it.”
The spectral presence, although silent, was steady and constant. The touch slid up and down my spine, tracing the gold snake I painstakingly sewed to the gown.
“I learned that I wouldn’t have any of my dreams come true. My future was mapped out.” The story tumbled from my lips. Finally released, there was no stopping it. “I couldn’t choose where I wanted to live, how I could live, or even who I lived with. I was just a child, but my mother broke my heart. I’ve been trying to put the pieces back together ever since.”
His fingers stilled.
I summoned all the courage in my soul to push the next words out. “Finding you was the best damn thing that ever happened to me, Ilya. You’re a different path, one I chose for myself.”
Lowering the bottle of water, I turned slightly to the side and flicked a glance in his direction so that I could look him in the eye as I added, “I’m sorry you thought I was sad, but the truth is, I’ve never been happier. And I’ll choose you, every time.”
With that, I wandered away. The risk of being caught was too great. As I made my way back to the group, a shock of dark brown hair appeared next to my soon-to-be ex-fiancé. A fond smile played over my lips. Did Gio dream of freedom? Did he even know that he could? My gaze flicked over the older boy who could now pursue philosophy without fear of his father’s wrath. Alonzo dreamt of a different life, and now I would give that to him.
From the corner of my eye, I caught movement directly behind my fiancé. Heart leaping to my throat, my gaze slammed into Cosimo’s. There was an unmistakable glint that pulsed deep in those flashing brown eyes.
It chilled my blood.
Slowly, Cosimo shifted his gaze, staring at something behind me before returning a look to me. One thick brow arched. Unable to stop myself, I looked back over my shoulder.
Ilya stood beside the archway, legs apart and hand clasping his opposite wrist. The perfect bodyguard, he watched over the proceedings. There was nothing unusual about his presence, except that he was only partially in costume. Whereas his employer wore period clothing to match the theme of our group, Ilya wore a simple black and white tux with the addition of a silvery Venetian Carnival mask.
Panic made my mind jump to all sorts of terrible conclusions. But by some miracle, I slammed an indifferent front over my features. I didn’t look back at Cosimo, finding a wealthy banker to greet. This woman was richer than several small countries and had a penchant for horse racing. I rambled about the weather ruining the final races of the season. When I risked a peep back in the direction of my group, Cosimo was boasting with Gio, while Alonzo quietly tied his mask in place.
He didn’t see anything . How could he? I’d been beyond careful to conceal my lips when I spoke, or barely moved them at all. Just because Ilya appeared and rooted himself where I’d been standing meant absolutely nothing.
I rejoined our group right as we were called forward to descend the stairs. Alonzo offered to tie my mask, but I declined. My monster wouldn’t like him touching me. Alonzo’s life was spared, and I intended to keep it that way.
But my senses weren’t tuned to the boy at my side. It was the underboss’s son who I kept watching. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge me. Yet the words he’d spoken to me during that ill-fated mass, when I couldn’t control my allergies, rang in my head.
He doesn’t know I spoke to Ilya! No matter how many times I screamed it to myself, the words wouldn’t convince me. So I made a terrible, yet freeing choice: Cosimo needed to die. Immediately. If my monster couldn’t do it yet, I would find a way to take the slithering pest out permanently.