Page 116 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
"I don't want excuses." My voice drops lower. "I want names."
"Could be anyone. Could be your pretty new wife for all we know."
My hand tightens around the phone. "Watch your fucking mouth, Sal. I have eyes on my wife. Do I need them on you and your men too?"
"Maybe it's time to clean house. Starting with Dante's crew."
I consider this. Dante's been loyal for years, but his brother-in-law joined the operation six months ago. Right when our troubles began.
"Have Dante bring his brother-in-law to the warehouse tonight. I'll handle it personally."
"And if Dante refuses?"
"Then bring them both." I end the call.
This is the part of my job I never wanted Angelica to know about. The necessary violence that keeps our world in order. But weakness isn't an option, not when our family's security is at stake.
Emilia's face appears in my thoughts, the way it always does when I'm about to do something particularly brutal.
She never approved of this part of my life, though she understood its necessity. "Just don't bring it home," she'd say. "Be Roman the father at our door, not Roman the enforcer."
My thoughts drift to Isabella and her mother.
The parallels aren't lost on me.
Another woman taken from her family, another daughter left with questions.
The difference is that Emilia died from an illness whereas Isabella's mother was brutally murdered.
What would Emilia think of Isabella? Of this arrangement?
She'd probably scold me for how I've handled it.
The threats, the intimidation.
She’d sympathize with Isabella.
The guilt sits heavily in my chest. Not just for how I've treated Isabella, but for the fact that sometimes, when I'm with her, Emilia's memory fades just slightly around the edges.
As if I'm betraying my wife by allowing another woman to matter.
And matter Isabella does.
It fucking terrifies me, although I’m not sure why.
Is it because I risk losing again?
I remember the promise I made to Isabella to help her break free of this life. It’s one of the best reasons to keep my heart out of this marriage.
It’s also a reason I need to find out the truth about her mother’s murder.
There’s no time like the present. I grab my coat and drive to Leonardo Ferraza's estate, parking in the circular driveway.
The security detail knows me well enough not to stop me, but their eyes follow my movements with caution. I'm not exactly a welcome sight in most places.
Too often, if I’m showing up, it’s bad news.
Leonardo's waiting in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey despite the early hour. His silver hair is immaculate as always, his suit pressed to perfection. The picture of Mafia royalty.
