Page 99 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
That I'm sorry for scaring her even though I’m not entirely sorry?
That despite everything, I'm trying to protect her?
None of it feels right. Not when she's standing there like she's expecting me to lash out at any moment.
Fear is a tool, a weapon, and even sometimes a shield crucial in my life and work.
But seeing it on Isabella's face now just makes me feel like shit.
A few moments later, Elena reappears with her brood. They head out the front door, again leaving us in silence. Isabella stands frozen in the hallway, like a deer sensing danger. I hate that look on her face. I hate even more that I put it there.
"Isabella," I start, not even sure what I'm going to say.
She takes a step back. "I need to check on something."
"We need to talk." My voice comes out rough, and I wince when she flinches again.
“It can’t wait.”
I know she’s lying. She heads for the bedroom. What the hell can be so important there?
"For fuck's sake, Isabella. I'm not going to hurt you."
Her eyes finally meet mine, wary, disbelieving. "Aren't you?"
The question lands in the center of my chest. Like she’s taken a sledgehammer and struck me front and center.
Before I can respond, the patter of small feet interrupts us. "Daddy!" Angelica races down the hallway, launching herself at my legs. "Can we have pizza tonight? Mrs. Rossi said I have to ask you."
I catch her mid-jump, swinging her up into my arms, grateful for the distraction. "I don't know, Angel, she might have other plans."
"Please?" She draws out the word, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes. "Rocco said they're having pizza for dinner."
I glance back to where Isabella was standing, but she's already slipped away, disappearing toward the bedroom.
"Did he now?" I focus on my daughter, pushing down the unresolved tension. "And if Rocco said he was jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you want to do that too?"
Angelica giggles. "No! That's dangerous!"
"Smart girl." I tap her nose. "Tell you what, we'll have whatever Mrs. Rossi has planned for tonight, and maybe pizza tomorrow. Deal?"
"Deal." She wriggles to be put down. "Can I go tell Mrs. Rossi?"
"Go ahead."
I watch her sprint toward the kitchen.
The contrast between my daughter and wife couldn’t be more different.
My daughter is full of life and love and laughter, while my wife appears lifeless, hiding in fear of me.
18
ISABELLA
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the dark green cashmere sweater I've paired with dark jeans.
Practical for a winter outing, but still presentable enough for a La Corona family gathering.
