Page 118 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
"I know exactly who I'm speaking to. A father who claims to want to protect his daughter but may be hiding the very thing that would absolve her." I stand my ground as Leonardo's expression darkens. The tension between us crackles like a live wire.
"Watch yourself, Roman," he warns. "Your position with the Calabresi family doesn't give you the right to question me."
"I'm not questioning your authority. I'm trying to solve a murder that left your daughter without a mother. That could hint to something more. "
Leonardo's jaw tightens. "And I'm telling you to focus on your assigned task. Keep Isabella safe, keep her away from the Feds. That's all."
"How can I protect her if I don't know what I'm protecting her from?"
He rises from his chair, leaning forward on his knuckles. "You protect her by doing as you're told. Nothing more."
I study him for a long moment. All my years in this life have taught me to read men well, and everything about Leonardo's posture screams that he's hiding something.
"As you wish, Don Ferraza.” I stand in Leonardo's study, watching him retreat to his position of power behind his desk.
Something's not adding up.
The way he's deflecting… Does he know something?
Or is he trying to protect something or someone?
I get home too late to have dinner with Angelica and Isabella.
I’ve had to stop off at the office to wash off blood and change my suit. But I am able to play a game with Angelica and tuck her into bed.
After Angelica is asleep, I find Isabella in our bedroom, hunched over her sewing table.
She's sketching something new.
For a moment, I just watch her, wondering what it is about her that is ensnaring me.
"I put Angelica to bed," I say, leaning against the doorframe.
Isabella startles slightly, then composes herself. "Did she go down okay?"
"After three stories and a promise that Santa knows exactly where to find her this year." I step into the room, loosening my tie. "Which reminds me—I've got a pile of presents that need wrapping."
She sets her pencil down. "Oh?"
"I thought maybe we could do it together." I shrug, trying to sound casual. "If you're not busy. I've got everything set up in my office. Wrapping paper, ribbons, tags, a whole Santa’s workshop."
A small smile touches her lips. "I didn't take you for the wrapping type."
"There's a lot you don't know about me." I return her smile. "I've been wrapping Angelica's presents since she was born. Emilia used to say I had a gift for it."
The mention of my late wife hangs between us, but it doesn't feel heavy.
“I guess I can be an elf.” She sets her sketch aside.
In my office, I've cleared my desk of anything work-related. No files, no weapons. Just stacks of presents for Angelica and rolls of colorful paper.
"This is… unexpected," Isabella says, running her fingers over a sparkly silver ribbon.
"What? That the big, bad enforcer knows how to curl ribbon?" I demonstrate, pulling the blade of the scissors along the silver strand until it forms a perfect spiral.
Isabella laughs, a genuine sound I want to hear more often. "I meant all of this. The effort."
I hand her the scissors. "My daughter is the center of my world. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.”
