Page 65 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
I pull out a sheet of paper and begin trying to organize the information in front of me.
Mrs. Ferraza was shopping, an outing she’d scheduled the week before.
Her driver was Tony Carlotta. I make a note to ask Vincenzo about this. He managed drivers for La Corona until six months ago when he retired.
She was barely out of the car when she was gunned down from a car, apparently a Cadillac owned by one of Marco’s companies, leaving shell casings the FBI reports are from the Calabresi family.
I sit back, stumped at why anyone would kill Don Ferraza’s wife. The Mafia I know has some basic standards, and one is not killing women.
Other organized crime doesn’t necessarily hold to that ideal, so maybe it was another family.
But we’ve got solid truces with the Russians, Irish, and Chinese.
Unless Ferraza did something to piss them off that La Corona doesn’t know about.
I think about Salvatore and his hate of Isabella. Like his brother, he’s one who’s willing to break rules and push the limits.
Did he kill Mrs. Ferraza? It would be gutsy. And his death sentence if Marco found out.
I pull up information about Salvatore’s brother, Ernesto.
What a dipshit he was. He walked around like he was smarter than the rest of us, which is what got him killed, I’m sure. I don’t actually know who killed him. It wasn’t me, but there were rumors Don Ferraza ordered it.
Since Ernie wasn’t actually a made man, Leonardo didn’t need to come to La Corona to seek permission for the hit.
I imagine Salvatore asked Marco to avenge him, but again, since Ernie wasn’t a part of the family, Marco had no reason to seek revenge.
I check the date of Ernie’s demise. Ernie’s actual cause of death was a drug overdose, a not uncommon death for people who cross Leonardo.
It happened two days before Leonardo’s wife was killed. Could be coincidence. Or not.
But would Salvatori seek revenge on his own? Based on what Isabella said about her encounter, that answer could be yes.
But he’d be risking a lot for that fuck-up brother of his. Salvatore is a hothead and savage, but he’s not stupid.
I sit back in my chair again knowing I can’t tell Isabella this. She’d be spilling her guts to that agent about Salvatori and bringing the Feds down on Marco and all of us.
Keeping this from her not only protects us, but it protects her from Marco’s order to kill her. Especially since there is a chance that all this is a coincidence.
I down the rest of my whiskey, the burn doing nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. She would see this information as a confirmation of everything she believes about us.
I need to be careful with this information. Isabella trusts me now—at least enough to let me into her body, if not fully into her confidence.
If she learns about this connection, her fragile trust will shatter.
And then I'll have no choice but to kill her.
I hear soft footsteps approaching my office. Isabella appears in the doorway, her hair tousled from sleep, wearing one of my T-shirts that hangs to mid-thigh. My dick goes full mast at the sight.
“Hey,” she says softly, hovering at the threshold like she's unsure whether she's welcome.
“Hey.” I gesture for her to come in, casually moving some papers to cover the notes I've been making. “Everything okay?”
She steps into the room but keeps her distance. “I woke up and you weren't there.”
There's vulnerability in her voice that makes me want to pull her close and push her away at the same time.
I can't afford to get attached, not with what I've just discovered.
