Page 74 of Promise Maker

You never mentioned Domenico to me, so I convincedmyself it wouldn’t upset you.

But what I’d refused to accept before is that alife without danger isn’t possible for you because you’re my daughter.

Baby girl, my past is tainted with blood, andthough I’ve changed my ways after your birth, it won’t erase my crimes.

I say all this to say, the only man who may beable to protect you after my passing is Domenico Martelli. I saw the look inhis eyes when he came to me with his proposal, and I knew he was sincere. Butas I’ve said, I was afraid.

Who knows what will happen after I’mgone.But I hope you’ll understand why I trusted him and theMartelli family to give you something as close to peace as possible.

I love you, baby girl. Please stay strong.

Live.

That is my last wish for you.

Sincerely,

Dad.

Tears dribble onto the letter, wetting my dad’slast written words.

I let the paper fall to my lap, and I chuckle atthe irony before starting to bawl.

Daddy…

When did he even write this? The whole time I’vebeen stressing if he’d be disappointed if I became involved with a man likeDomenico. Meanwhile, his letter supports it.

I bury my face in my hands and cry some more,relieved that I won’t disgrace his memory.

When my tears dry, I return the letter and Dad’swill to my hiding place. Then I mosey to the balcony, lower onto the seat, andkeep watch on the gates.

The SUV finally returns by evening, and my heartleaps when Domenico exits.

I hasten from the room and strut down the hallway,meeting him in the main entrance.

Domenico stops abruptly, a gleam in his eyes.

“Drink with me,” I say and head to the sittingroom.

He follows closely, his exhilarating cologneevoking a heat stream beneath my skin.

Striding to the bar, he presses his hand at myback and stops me from opening a bottle.

“Try this instead,” he says close to my ear, and ashudder rocks my body.

Domenico pours the whiskey.

I grab a glass and swig the tangy liquid, shakingoff the subtle burn.

“One more,” I urge.

He fills the glass. I drain it yet again in onego.

“I read my dad’s letter,” I say.

Concern instantly blankets his face. “Are youallright?”

“Yes.” I pour another drink, throw it back, andtell him, “Okay. I’ll marry you.”

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