Page 42 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
But there it is, anyway, this unwelcome pull toward her that makes everything harder and more confusing.
I can’t help but think this is going to end badly.
8
ISABELLA
Awkward doesn’t begin to describe the first morning in my new home.
My new… family.
No, not family. At least not with me as a part of it.
Two days later, it’s still strange.
But I know it could be worse.
While I don’t doubt Roman would become the full-on enforcer he is toward me if I gave him a reason, he seems to be trying to make me feel comfortable.
So it wasn’t very smart of me to challenge him the first morning about Angelica one day learning what he does for a living.
I could see so much love between them that I know when she discovers the type of man he is, she’ll be angry and profoundly disappointed.
At least I was when I figured out my father lived on the wrong side of the law and hurt people to succeed.
The busyness of the morning gives way to a deafening silence in the apartment once Mrs. Rossi takes Angelica to school, and Roman leaves for work with a warning to me to stay put.
Two days into this forced marriage, and I'm suffocating. I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
So close to freedom, yet completely trapped.
The emptiness is all encompassing, inside and out.
No work to do.
No friends to call.
My phone confiscated after he caught me that first night.
I make another cup of coffee and take in the kitchen Mrs. Rossi scrubbed clean before taking Angelica to school.
The woman is everywhere in this house, cooking, cleaning, caring for Angelica and Roman with efficiency.
She's been with them for years, that much is obvious.
The way she anticipates Angelica's needs, knows Roman's schedule without asking…
I open the refrigerator and stare at the neatly organized contents.
Even the food isn't mine to control.
Mrs. Rossi does the shopping, the meal planning.
Not that I’ve ever done that as my father's chef was the same way. But it would be nice to have something to do.
I close my eyes, trying to imagine what I'd be doing right now in my old life.
Sketching new designs, perhaps. Building something that was mine.
