Page 66 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
Not when I know she’d turn on me and my family in an instant.
“Just had some work to finish up,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.
Isabella shifts her weight, not quite meeting my eyes. “I just wanted to make sure… that what happened wasn't…” She trails off, a flush creeping up her neck. “I mean, I practically threw myself at you?—”
“You did throw yourself at me.” I say it with a smirk, hoping to ease her concern.
“I… I just don't want things to be weird between us now.”
I stand and move around the desk, closing some of the distance between us. “Isabella, trust me when I say that being with you wasn't exactly a hardship. You have nothing to worry about.”
She looks up at me, searching my face. “Are you sure? Because you disappeared pretty quickly.”
“I'm sure.” I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I should be asking you if you’re okay.”
She nods. “Yes.”
I watch Isabella closely, noting how she fidgets with the hem of my T-shirt. There's something unsaid hanging between us, something more than just post-sex awkwardness.
As much as I want to touch her again, my duty is to Marco, to the family, to La Corona.
I don’t give a shit about Salvatore, but I can’t let Isabella learn about him, his brother, the close proximity in time of her mother’s death to Ernie’s.
I need to get her off the idea that the Calabresi family had anything to do with her mother’s death. “You know, a few hours ago, you let me touch you in ways no one else ever has. Yet you still believe I might have killed your mother.”
Her eyes snap to mine, startled by my directness.
“I didn't say?—”
“You did.” I lean against my desk, keeping some distance between us. “I’m not sure I fucked you well enough to change your mind.”
Her eyes flash with shock and maybe humiliation. I hate to do that to her, especially when I worked so hard a moment ago to put her at ease.
“Can you blame me? The evidence?—”
“The evidence is bullshit?” I shake my head. “Trust me when I say that I and my family know how to kill someone and not leave a trail.”
Fucking hell, the fear in her eyes guts me.
“I didn’t kill your mother. Marco didn’t order her death.”
That’s not a lie. I’m just leaving out the part where a Calabresi family member might have taken justice into his own hands.
“And maybe you should consider that you’re being used to infiltrate the Calabresi family and La Corona. I mean, you’re being fed bogus evidence while you’ve given the FBI what?”
She bites her lip, considering my words. I can see her struggling with what she wants to believe versus what she's been told.
The best way to keep us all safe and guide her to another suspect is to continue to offer help. “I want to help you find the truth. But I need you to be honest with me. About everything.”
And by everything, I mean the phone she’s hiding. This is her chance to tell me about it. To show she trusts me with more than her body.
“All I want is the truth about what happened to my mother,” she whispers, eyes glistening. “That's all I've ever wanted.”
She holds my gaze but says nothing more. No mention of the phone. No full disclosure.
Disappointment washes over me. I'd hoped, foolishly, perhaps, that what we'd shared would have broken through that final barrier. That she might see me as someone she could truly trust.
I nod slowly, keeping my expression neutral. “Then that's what we'll find.”
