Page 154 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
My wife. The mother of my child.
I push the bedroom door open. Isabella is propped against the pillows, her face pale but her eyes alert. Those eyes. They track my every movement as I enter, wary and watchful.
"How are you feeling?" My voice comes out rough, like I've been gargling gravel.
"I'm alive." She attempts a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you for that."
God, does she think I did it only out of duty? I move closer, stopping at the foot of the bed. "You don't need to thank me. Not for that. Not ever."
Her hands rest protectively over her stomach, a gesture so subtle she probably doesn't realize she's doing it. But I notice. How could I not?
"Isabella…" I start, then falter. What am I supposed to say? Congratulations? I'm sorry? Why didn't you tell me?
She meets my gaze, chin lifting slightly. Even battered and exhausted, there's a quiet strength in her that takes my breath away. She's been through hell and survived.
Because of me, in spite of me.
I approach the bed slowly, like she's a wounded animal that might bolt if I move too quickly. My heart hammers against my ribs.
This isn't me. I don't hesitate. I don't falter.
Yet here I am, terrified of saying the wrong thing.
"Isabella." I sit carefully on the edge of the mattress, keeping space between us. "I need you to understand something."
She watches me, those dark eyes giving nothing away.
"Everything I've done since the moment Marco ordered this marriage has been to protect you. Even when I thought you were betraying me, even when I was furious, I was trying to keep you safe."
Her gaze flickers with doubt. "Because it's your job."
"No." I reach for her hand, surprised when she doesn't pull away. "Not just that. Not anymore." I take a deep breath, feeling more exposed than I've ever been in my life. More vulnerable than facing down a gun.
"I've spent years convinced I'd never feel this way again. After Emilia died, I shut that part of myself away. I had Angelica to raise, the family to protect. There was no room for anything else."
My thumb traces circles on her palm. "Then you came into our lives, and something happened that I never expected. I fell in love with you, Isabella."
Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. “But I’m not like her.”
“No.” I laugh softly then, thinking of the contrasts between my wives. “No, you’re not like her. When I fell for Emilia, it was like sliding into a lazy river. It was easy, smooth, and calm.”
She frowns like I’m insulting her.
“You.” I look into her eyes, wanting her to see into mine. “You caught me by surprise and challenged me. It’s work being with you, but that’s good, Isabella. Love should require effort. How else will you know that I’m head over heels if I just coast through this relationship?”
She starts to speak, but I need to finish.
"I know you don't love me back. How could you? I'm the monster who threatened you, who scared you, who represents everything you want to escape." I hate having to remind her of this, but it’s necessary. "I know you don't trust me, may never trust me. But I needed you to know how I feel. How you’ve changed everything… for the better.”
I feel stripped bare, my soul exposed. This woman who carries my child looks at me like I'm speaking a language she doesn't understand.
"I love you," I repeat, just to make sure she understands what I’m saying.
I watch Isabella's face, her shock at my confession evident in those wide, dark eyes. Before she can respond, before she can reject what I've just laid bare, I hold up my hand.
"You don't need to say anything." The last thing I want to hear is her telling me she doesn’t love me back. "I know what you want. What you've always wanted. Freedom. A life away from all this." I gesture vaguely at the world beyond our bedroom walls, the world of La Corona.
"I meant what I said before. When this is over, when you're fully recovered, I'll help you leave. I'll make arrangements, set you up somewhere safe. Somewhere no one from this life can find you."
