Page 41 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
"Your work, Roman." Her voice drops lower. "When she understands what being an enforcer means."
Something cold slides down my spine. "I'm her father. That's what matters."
"But eventually, she'll learn about the other side of you. The side that?—"
"That what?" I cut her off, my voice sharp. "The side that kills people? Is that what you were going to say?"
Isabella doesn't flinch. "Yes."
I close the dishwasher with more force than necessary. "I protect my family. Everything I do is to keep the people I care about safe."
"Including murder?"
"When necessary." I turn to face her fully. "But I didn't kill your mother, Isabella. I had no reason to."
She crosses her arms. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's the truth." I step closer, fighting to keep my voice level. "I've done things I'm not proud of. Things I'll have to answer for someday. But your mother's death isn't one of them."
"Then who did it?"
"I don't know. But I meant what I said. I'll help you find out." I hold her gaze, willing her to believe me. "Just not with the FBI. Not by putting Angelica at risk."
I turn away from Isabella, trying to control the anger growing in me. I’m doing the best I can to make her comfortable in this fucked up situation, but she just wants to poke at me.
"You've been here less than twenty-four hours and you're questioning my parenting, continuing to accuse me of things I haven’t done, ignoring me when I offer to help?"
The silence stretches between us.
I hear Angelica's footsteps racing down the hall, then Mrs. Rossi intercepting her, their voices fading as they head toward Angelica's room.
I turn to her. “This will go easier if you can meet me halfway. You won’t believe this, Isabella, but I’m a patient man… but I have my limits.”
She nods, eyes downcast, and something in her defeated posture makes my irritation falter.
This situation isn't easy for any of us, least of all her.
Forced marriage, strange home, instant stepmother to a child who's naturally suspicious.
"This is awkward as hell, isn't it?" I say, softening my tone.
A surprised laugh escapes her. "That's one way to put it."
I run a hand through my hair. "Look, I want to make this work—for Angelica's sake, for your safety, for all of us. But you've got to make an effort too."
"I understand." She meets my eyes.
“It’s not a demand,” I say, irked at her response. “It’s a request. A suggestion.”
She nods. “I’ll try.”
“Good.”
She exits the kitchen, and I watch as she heads toward the bedroom again.
I catch myself taking in her curves, the sway of her walk.
Christ, this is complicated enough without adding attraction to the mix.
