Page 16 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
Twenty minutes later, I'm unlocking the door to my condo. It's not a mansion like the Dons have, but it's comfortable.
Three bedrooms, office, modern kitchen, and the crown jewel, a sprawling terrace overlooking the city.
Perfect for a single father and his daughter.
"Mr. Ginetti, you're back." Mrs. Rossi appears from the hallway, her gray hair pulled into its usual neat bun. "Angelica went to bed about an hour ago. She tried to wait up for you."
"Thanks, Mrs. Rossi." I shrug off my coat. "Everything go okay?"
"Perfect, as always. She's excited about Christmas and decorating the tree."
Guilt pinches at me. We bought the tree, but work pulled me away from decorating it with her.
Work and then curiosity about Isabella. "We'll decorate tomorrow."
Mrs. Rossi nods. “I’m heading to my room.” She’s been with me since Angelica was born.
She was a widow who needed work. My wife, Emilia, and I were in need of a nanny and housekeeper. Mrs. Rossi became even more important when Emilia first got sick, and she stayed when she passed.
"Actually…" I realize I haven’t told her about my impending marriage. "Got time for a nightcap? I have some news.”
I pour two fingers of whiskey for myself, a small glass of red wine for her, and step into the living area overlooking the terrace and the city.
Mrs. Rossi joins me. "Something's troubling you."
I take a long sip of whiskey, letting it burn down my throat. "I'm getting married."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "That's… unexpected."
"Yeah." I laugh without humor. "For me too."
"Does Angelica know?"
I shake my head. "Not yet. It's complicated."
Her eyes narrow as she studies me. She knows the world I live in.
Her husband was an associate of the Calabresi family. We laundered a great deal of money through his restaurant.
When he died, Marco bought the place, which gave her a nice nest egg.
A need for family and connection brought her to work for me.
"I don't know how to tell Angelica," I admit, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "How do you explain to a seven-year-old that she's getting a stepmother she's never met?"
Mrs. Rossi sips her wine thoughtfully. "Children are more adaptable than we give them credit for." She shifts uncomfortably. “Do you have concerns about how I care for her? Is that why you think she needs a mother?”
Her question takes me off guard. “Fuck no. This isn’t a real marriage. It’s business.” I drain my glass, welcoming the burn. "It's business. Your position is secure. More than ever, actually." I turn to face her. "Angelica will need stability. Familiar faces."
Relief softens her features. "I appreciate that, Mr. Ginetti."
I refill my glass, hesitating before speaking again. "The woman, Isabella… I’m not sure what to expect. She’s complicated."
"Aren't we all?"
I snort. "She hates me. Or what she thinks I am."
"And what is that?"
