Page 136 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
Protection? Desire? Something deeper I'm too chickenshit to name?
Whatever it is, it's consuming me. Changing me. It’s a weakness I can’t afford.
26
ISABELLA
I sit at my sewing table with Angelica as I help her sew a tie for Roman.
It’s not the one I planned to make.
She chose a green fabric with candy canes. It will be a typical hideous dad-tie, but Roman will no doubt love it because Angelica made it.
My stomach lurches again, the third time this morning, but I force a smile and keep my hands steady as I guide her small fingers on the sewing machine.
"Like this?" Angelica asks, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Perfect," I manage, swallowing hard against the wave of nausea. "You're a natural."
The results of the pregnancy test distract me.
A baby. Roman's baby.
The thought sends another roll of queasiness through me that has nothing to do with morning sickness.
"Can we make something else?" Angelica looks up at me with those big eyes, so much like Roman's.
"What did you have in mind?" I ask, grateful for the distraction.
"A Christmas stocking with our names on it. Yours, mine, and Daddy's."
A family stocking, as if we're actually a real family and not some bizarre arrangement.
"That's a wonderful idea," I say.
I reach for another piece of fabric, but the movement sends my head spinning. I close my eyes, counting slowly to ten, willing the nausea to pass.
"Are you sick?" Angelica asks, her voice small and worried.
"Just tired." I open my eyes and force brightness into my voice. "Let's pick out the colors for our stocking."
She seems satisfied with my answer and begins sorting through fabric scraps with renewed enthusiasm.
A sharp knock at the door makes me jump. "Wait here," I tell Angelica as I rise to get the door. "Pick out the fabric you want for the stocking."
I move to the door. The peephole shows a distorted fish-eye view of the hallway outside, but I’m able to still make out who is there.
Salvatore.
His square jaw is set in a hard line. Behind him is another man I recognize as one of his crew. They're speaking in low voices.
"Roman's not here," Salvatore mutters. "Perfect timing."
"What about the kid?" Vito asks.
"We take care of the wife first. The kid won't be a problem."
My hand flies to my mouth to stifle a gasp. They're here for me. And with Angelica in the apartment…
