Page 91 of Naughty Santa Daddy

I release a tense breath, asking, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you used past tense. Does that mean he's not there anymore?”

Emilio hesitates, and then the evil smile I love to see graces his face. “He was there until two days ago,” Emilio replies, his voice low. “His cabin went up in flames. The local authorities reported it as an accident caused by a faulty fireplace.”

I can already guess his answer without even needing to ask, but I can't resist. “Did they find a body?” Holding my breath, I swear I’m vibrating with either anticipation or excitement.

Emilio’s smile doesn’t waver. “Yes,” he says simply. “But the authorities will not be able to find the four bullets that I dug out of him.” With a twisted smirk on his face, he tosses out, “That wasafterI cut his dick off and shoved it down his throat as he choked on it. Fate was on our side since I was able to get out of here with your truck and make it to where the city started to plow the roads. Any other vehicle and I don’t think it’d have gotten through all of the snow still sticking to the ground. Once I was a few hours away, the roads were clear, and it was smooth sailing for a quick trip there and back.”

My gaze snaps to Emilio’s face; nothing but grim satisfaction emanates from him, which mirrors my relief. I can't deny the lightness filling me, knowing this link has been severed by Emilio personally. I hold out my hand, and Emilio passes me the small flask he always keeps on him. I knock back a gulp of the potent whiskey he prefers and let it burn through me before speaking again. “Good. Thank you,fratello.” Emotion thick in my voice, as he has always been my most trusted and reliable companion.

Emilio nods, “With him gone, we can finally shift our attention to the next objective.”

“Yes, making sure Mr. Bernard is dealt with.” With another gulp, the stinging sensation spreads down my throat.

Emilio's gaze is deadly serious as he agrees, “Exactly. Determine his precise location in the prison… and contact one of our associates.”

I nod to myself as Emilio strides out of my office, reflecting on how much closer I feel to Hadley now. When this is all said and done, I hope she doesn't see me as a monster but as her monster’s slayer. Her protector. Her champion.

Hadley

Sitting in the kitchen with Amos, I notice he’s not smiling like he usually does. His usual bright eyes, which are so fullof warmth they twinkle like the Christmas lights, are dull. He’s acting far more like his dad than the six-year-old boy I’ve been around. I’m rather worried.

“Amos?” I query, keeping my voice gentle. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

His little shoulders rise and then fall with a sigh that's too weary for his age. His eyes meet mine, and I'm taken aback by the shadow of sorrow in them. “Dad's mad, isn't he?” he mumbles, leaning his chin upon his hands. His gaze is fixed on the frosted window, where snowflakes are lazily drifting down. It's beautiful outside; the world is blanketed in white under a serene blue sky. But on this side of the glass, the world feels far less kind.

I pause, curious. “Why do you say that?” I swear this child is perceptive and can sense any shift in emotion.

He shrugs, never taking his attention from the window. “I heard him in his study last night. He was talking to Zio. There was a lot of yelling.” His chubby fingers fiddle with his shirt’s hem, a telling sign of his anxiety.

My stomach flips, my heart thudding against my ribs. I didn’t know he had heard that conversation; it wasn’t meant for a child’s ears, I’m sure.

“Amos,” I begin, crouching down to his level so I can meet his worried little eyes. I tell him, “Your dad and Uncle Emilio were having a big grown-up discussion, okay? Sometimes people who care about each other argue. It doesn't mean they're angry or that they don't love each other anymore.”

He blinks at me, a glistening tear clinging to his long lashes. “But... but Dad soundedreallymad,” he whispers, voice trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind.

My heart clenches at his fearful words, and I reach out, gently squeezing his small hand. “I promise you, Amos,” I answer softly, “your dad isn’t mad at you, and he loves you very much.He has a lot of grown-up worries, and sometimes those spill out in loud voices. But remember, you aren't responsible for his worries. And no matter what, he adores you.”

Amos nods slowly, absorbing my words. He seems solemn for a moment, then suddenly his sweet, innocent face breaks into a hopeful smile.

I need to cheer him up. I want his giggles and cheer; he’s a precious child, and not only that, but it’s Christmastime. “Hey, Amos? Where do cows go on a Friday night?” I ask, trying to control my laugh.

At my question, he shrugs. “I don't know, where do cows go on a Friday night?” he repeats, his voice quiet but curious.

“They go to themoooovies,” I reply in a silly voice, wiggling my eyebrows at him for dramatic effect.

It's a struggle for him not to smile at my joke, as he loves going to the movies. He fights to keep his expression neutral, but then his lip twitches upwards, and soon he's giggling uncontrollably, his laughter ringing out and warming the otherwise chilly room.

I love him.

“Tell me another one!” Amos says between fits of laughter, as his eyes sparkle with mirth. His laughter, so innocent and pure, gives me a deep sense of happiness that dances in my chest. I silently decide to share another one of my best farm animal jokes.

I’m about to tell another for him when Massimo comes in. “What are we laughing about in here?” His voice is rich and smooth. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a soft smile on his face as he watches us. It’s clear just from his expression how much he truly loves his son.

“Hadley told me a funny animal joke, Dad!” Amos chimes in excitedly, cheeks still red from his loud, silly giggles.

With a quiet sigh, Massimo rubs the back of his neck, casting me a wary glance. “Animal jokes?” he asks, moving to cross his arms over his broad chest.

“Well, they are called Dad jokes,” I admit with a shrug, meeting his gaze. “I thought it would lighten the mood a little.”

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