Page 51 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
He sits on the edge of my bed. “I probably indulged you too much, Gabriella?—”
“No you didn’t. You respected me. Treated me as a person, not an object.”
“I've always wanted to protect you from this life, Gabriella. Even while indulging your interest in it."
I sit beside him. "I know, but I'm not a little girl anymore."
He takes my hand, his grip frailer than I remember. "No, you're not, but this world we live in…” He sighs. "Be careful with Marco. I trust him, but he's not a man who tolerates disobedience or disloyalty. If you're going to live under his roof, you need to follow his rules."
"I know how to handle Marco," I say confidently.
My father squeezes my hand. "This isn't a game, Gabriella. Marco may respect me, but that respect won't automatically extend to you. Give him one reason to doubt your loyalty, and this arrangement will end badly."
His concern touches me, but I can't help feeling a flicker of annoyance. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just want to help protect our family."
“I love you for that.” He pats my hand and then rises. “Be smart, Gabriella.”
After my father leaves, I sit on my bed, staring at my half-packed suitcase.
This is the right move, I’m sure of it.
Getting close to Marco, learning what he knows, protecting my father from whatever threats are circling our family.
If Marco is truly helping my father as they both claim, then we can work together.
I zip up my suitcase and then go to my desk, gather up a year's worth of notes, photos, and documents, my personal investigation into Marco Calabresi and the troubles plaguing our family business.
I flip through pages of observations, connections, and theories I've developed since overhearing that damning conversation.
Some of it looks paranoid now, colored by hurt and betrayal.
But other pieces still don't add up.
The timing of certain problems in my father's businesses.
The convenient solutions Marco always seems to have ready.
The FBI agent's interest in Marco, specifically.
Someone is targeting the Monti family.
Maybe it's Marco.
Maybe it's someone using him.
Maybe it's someone working against all of La Corona.
Whatever the truth, I'll find it.
Living under Marco's roof might be dangerous to my heart, but it's the best chance I have to protect what matters most.
I finish packing and head downstairs to leave it by the front door.
I pause at the living room.
My father sits in his leather chair, staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace.
"I’m about ready," I say softly, not wanting to startle him.
