Impenitent Claim (Vlasov Bratva #4)

Chapter 2 – Isabella

T he bright white threatened to blind me. The color symbolized purity, a prized virtue amongst the young women of Italian mobs. As bartering chips, we were meant to fetch a high price for our immediate family and support our famiglia, our organization or syndicate, with our marriage.

In my case, it was a lie.

Alone in the dressing room, the attendant who wrangled me into this veritable jumpsuit waited just outside the curtain, so that I could have a moment with my thoughts. The only thing running through my head was how much I hated this monstrosity of a gown. Most prisoners wore orange; I was stuck in white. And not a pretty, enchanting white. The dress was ugly enough to banish the loop of thoughts about my nocturnal visitor. I narrowed my eyes at the corseted waist. It was so damn tight! Shifting my upper body, I tried to create more room.

“Come out and show us!” Cecilia Bruno called.

My fingers curled into a reflective fist. “Coming, Cece!”

The strega wouldn’t slap me in front of the other women of the famiglia for using the nickname she abhorred. Would she? I glanced at my reflection one last time. At least a mark would bring some color to the woman staring back at me.

Hiking the ridiculous skirt, petticoat, and stiff crinoline, I stomped out of the dressing room. Cecilia’s glare scalded me, but she didn’t advance as I made my way to the platform. A chorus of oohs and ahhs swirled around the room like a bad stench.

My reflection shimmered in the half circle of mirrors. It was exactly the opposite of the gown I would have chosen. I enjoyed being able to move—and breathe. The color was all wrong. A little tea would stain it beautifully. Cutting layers to make a simpler skirt, removing the sparkling crystal beads, and adding old fashioned lace would make it more me.

But I wasn’t allowed to be that woman.

No…I was the late don’s daughter. With the passing of my parents just before Christmas, the Rinaldi Famiglia was thrown into chaos. The threat of war loomed thick, and only the underboss’s solution saved us from certain doom. To keep the strongest capo from creating his own faction, they made him boss. None of the other capos were powerful enough to fight Aldo Bruno, not even the underboss. One by one, the other capos either fell in line with the new regime or they went to sleep with the fish.

But Signor Bruno was old school. When he became the new don, he wanted things done properly. Since his family had no ties to the founding family, he wanted that fixed. The solution? When his son came of age, the eighteen-year-old was going to marry the late don’s daughter—me.

While I was in Chicago, unable to complete the finals for college because I grieved my parents’ passing, the underboss called me with this ultimatum. Marry the new don’s son and they would allow my brother and me to live. Simple. Vicious. A typical mob solution. If I played along, my only remaining family member wouldn’t die. It was politically strategic to take out my kid brother, so he never grew strong enough to challenge the leadership, but Don Aldo felt that by binding me, it would prevent future problems.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to me—marriage to end a war. I was no better than a prized heifer. It was every mafia princess’s worst nightmare.

“Isabella! Are you deaf?” Cecilia barked, snapping her fingers. “Turn, girl. Turn!”

As if things weren’t bad enough, the don’s sister became mistress of the house and considered herself queen of the Made Men. Her primary job, however, was making sure I was the symbol of peace and unity. A fit virgin to be sacrificed to her nephew.

“Oh, sorry, Cece!” I gushed, laying it on thick. Yep, she was going to hit me. But it was worth it to see the shade of purple flushing over her neck to use the hated nickname. “I was caught in the magic, Cece. I look just like a princess! Better than any Disney movie, don’t you think? Although, I could use some singing woodland creatures. Wouldn’t it be beautiful to wander through a misty, ancient forest in this dress?”

“It cost six figures, you will not wander through nature!” the strega snapped.

Screw her. Some mud and twigs would upgrade this dress. “Wouldn’t it be splendid, though? To be shrouded in mist, with the fresh kiss of the wind caressing my skin as I rambled over mossy stones wet with dew?”

“You’d think she would have grown out of that nonsense by now,” Bella Silvio sneered. It was meant to be confidential to the glossy matron sitting next to her, but the words were purposely spoken loud enough so I’d hear.

There was no way I would give up my imagination, not when reality was so much worse and the escape to other worlds through my mind was the only relief. It wasn’t like I could go to my bedroom, the only place untouched by the new regime, and lose myself to the pages of my Kindle. Oh, no! Not with such an important obligation as a fitting for a wedding dress I hated.

“Alonzo is going to go crazy when he sees you in that,” Giulia tittered. Sweet thing that she was, this was her attempt to restore peace.

Benedetta, sitting beside her, hummed in agreement. They were the closest in age to me, but I wouldn’t call either of them friends.

I smiled because that was what was expected of me. “I think he’ll be more interested in the lacy bits underneath.”

Cecilia gasped. The girls giggled, while their mothers blushed vibrant shades of red.

I couldn’t hide my stare of disbelief fast enough. Her glare increased.

“It is my wedding night,” I reminded her, hoping my bubblehead act would save me.

“We don’t talk about such things,” she scolded.

Prude.

From the smirks of some of the other women, I knew I wasn’t the only one thinking it.

The truth was, Alonzo didn’t have any inclination to ravage me. I expected a clinical wedding night and a very scheduled marriage. It could be worse. He wasn’t a playboy—any affairs he had would be discreet—and it would be a shock if he beat me. Alonzo suffered from a weak constitution, much to his father’s severe disappointment. Ever since I could remember, there had been bruises. Discipline, not abuse, it was called. But despite his father’s best efforts, Alonzo didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. Out of all the famiglia children I grew up with, Alonzo was my favorite friend. Spending my life with him was far from ideal, but it wasn’t unbearable.

“You’re lucky, Isabella,” Caterina sighed. “Alonzo is so handsome.”

Hardly. Sickly was the term whispered throughout the famiglia.

“He is, isn’t he?” I sighed dreamily, playing along.

Signora Rispetto clucked her tongue and said something to old lady Garibaldi. Pursed lips and pointed fingers flicked in my direction.

Thankfully, there weren’t many of these performances left. I was stretched thin by pretending to care. The girls began to animatedly chatter over who would be next. They debated who was the most handsome soldier, now that Alonzo was off the market.

“I’ll throw the bouquet high, so you have time to watch it descend. It will make for better catching,” I promised, fidgeting with the tight bodice.

“You’re still spilling out the sides,” Cecilia scolded, coming up the dais.

Crap! I slid my hair back over the open back, but it was too late. A torture session of unnecessary pinching ensued. Cecilia prodded the skin rolls, muttering about my sweet tooth. My jaw clenched tight, and I drew deep breaths. Lashing out at her would be astronomically stupid.

Something dark slid across the far mirror.

I turned slightly, focusing my attention on the reflection of the archway where the flicker had been. There were other customers in the upscale boutique. Were they here to enjoy their happily ever after? A real partner at the end of the aisle, waiting to catch the first glance at the bride—just like the spicy fairytales I read. My heart pattered.

Quit that. I shook myself. The romantic ideals were barely within my reach when my parents were alive, and now they were painful dreams.

As I stared through the arch, trying to catch a glimpse of a happy bride so that I could steal some of her energy, something prickled along my skin. It was the sensation of being watched. I leaned forward, staring harder. I didn’t see anyone looking into our private area. Still, I couldn’t shake the awareness flooding my veins.

It was highly unlikely danger lurked in the room beyond. Cecilia wasn’t the only one with bodyguards lingering on the sidewalk outside of the boutique. Many of the mob wives brought their muscle. But the strega’s beady eyed pair of brothers made the other bodyguards look like kittens. As if public outings with Cecilia and her charming personality weren’t bad enough, having those meatheads glaring at me made it ten times as bad. Those were the kind of men who inspired the orcs from Lord of the Rings. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d eaten human flesh before—and that wasn’t my overactive imagination making up ideas. It was something I actually wondered about.

“Isabella!” Cecilia smacked my shoulder.

I swallowed the natural outburst that would be seen as a threat, biting my tongue hard enough that I tasted blood. Growing up as a free-spirited individual meant that most people remembered that I was a silly, imaginative child. Ever since being thrown into this nightmare, I used that memory for everything I was worth, adding the ditzy illusion of a brainless airhead to mask any intelligence. I couldn’t afford these people to feel challenged.

The strega blew out a short huff through her nose. “You only have a short time to cut your calories. This would look amazing if you’d just show a little discipline.”

There’s nothing wrong with my body! I was fit and healthy, and I loved those extra fifteen because they made my boobs and ass look incredible.

“I’m changing,” I informed the don’s sister.

Stomping off the dais, I ducked into the changing room. The shop attendant hurried after me to help me with the hooks and buttons. My fingers yanked on the laces and tugged the knot free.

I closed my eyes and focused on taking shallow breaths as the attendant worked quickly to remove me from the cage. The dress released its viselike hold. I shoved the capped silk sleeves off, and my body shimmied so the material pooled on the floor. Free! Precious air filled my lungs.

“Do you need any more help, miss?” the attendant asked.

“No, thank you.” I waved her away, stepping out of the gown as she gathered the pond of white silk off the floor.

Standing in my pink lace panties, I ran my hands lovingly down the hourglass curves. I wasn’t my own person, not even my body was my own anymore.

“At least I chose who and when,” I breathed, brushing my fingers over the lace hugging my hips.

Thinking about my plans and the hopeful young woman I’d been almost a year ago was painful. I’d told myself my future would be different. My parents even allowed me to attend college out of state, so long as I lived with a half dozen bodyguards. The trajectory of my life had been…perfect. Full of hope and going somewhere.

It only took a well-placed assassination, hired by a rival mob, to pop the dream and turn my brother and me into orphans, fighting for our lives. Not that Gio was old enough to realize the subtle dance we were doing to stay alive. I indulged for a moment in the longing for what could have been had my parents lived, before shaking the terrible ache off and reaching for my clothes.

“What the—”

My fingers hung suspended in the air. On top of the pink pantsuit folded over the chair was a gold box of gourmet chocolates and a flower. A rose, to be exact. It was rich and sensual, the red petals folding out in a beckoning wave. Gently, I picked up the long stem.

A real smile pulled at my lips. Those had been few and far between, but this small gesture was enough to make me really grin.

I have a secret friend.

Or at least, that was how I chose to read the gesture.

A pawn like me didn’t have friends. People didn’t do nice things for me without a grand show to make sure their gestures were seen. Imagining there was one out there, choosing to believe this was the actions of a friend and not a manipulator, was enough to make me cry. The smile turned into a tingle at the corner of my eyes. My emotional state was fragile.

I lifted my gaze, fighting back the moisture. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if the others noticed my emotion. I could play it off as wedding bliss. But I needed to bottle up these feelings.

And hide the treats. If Cecilia saw….

Crouching, I emptied the box of chocolates, putting them in the zippered pouch of my purse. They would be slightly linty, but it was the only way to sneak them back into my room. The flower I tucked carefully in the bag, breaking the bottom stem. It would go nicely in the bubble glass bud vase on my nightstand.

As I dressed, I wondered who’d snuck in here with the gifts. Had they used the attendant? Or was it someone already in the private viewing room, one of the mobster’s wives or daughters? I wasn’t particularly close to any of the women, but this gesture could be the start of a better friendship. Careful not to crush the flower, I snatched my purse and hurried back to the waiting gaggle of women with a spark of something I thought was long gone pulsing in my chest—hope.