Page 78 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride
“That's what I'm trying to figure out.” There’s more I need to share with him. I might keep things from Isabella, but I can’t from Marco.
Still, I don’t want to put her in more danger.
Telling him about Isabella's new phone and FBI contact is necessary, but I need to protect her too. If I make her seem like a willing traitor, I'm signing her death warrant.
“One more thing,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Isabella has been approached. I set up the opportunity and they took the bait.”
Marco's eyes narrow. “Who?”
“A woman I haven't identified for someone calling himself Blackwood. FBI, according to her.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “He’s the one who gave her the doctored evidence about her mother’s murder, convinced Isabella that we were responsible.”
“We know this already. And she should know better than to believe this bullshit.”
I lean forward slightly. “She was a daughter who lost her mother. Grief makes people vulnerable. This Blackwood knew exactly which buttons to push.”
“And yet you’re not convinced he’s the master behind this shitshow.”
“He could be, but if Ernie and Mrs. Ferraza are a part of all this, it’s hard to see the FBI orchestrating this. More likely, he saw an opportunity after her death and approached Isabella.”
“You sure your new wife isn’t fucking with your ability to see objectively?” His accusation hangs in the air between us.
“I'm being objective.” I maintain eye contact, not backing down. “Isabella was manipulated by a professional. She's not the mastermind here. She's another victim. What I don’t know is ifthis is all related and who’s behind it. Is someone trying to break us from within and using the FBI and Isabella to do it?”
“You're sure about this?” Marco studies me with the intensity that's made him a feared Don.
“I am.” The conviction in my voice surprises even me. When did I become so convinced of her innocence?
Despite the hidden phone, despite her initial resistance, something deep in my gut tells me she's not our enemy. She's caught in the same web we are, struggling to find the truth.
“I trust you, Roman. You know I do. But remember what's at stake here. If you're wrong about her?—”
“I'm not.”
Marco sits back, studying me in a way that’s uncomfortable. “Be careful. Don't let what's happening in your bed cloud what's happening in your head.”
I don't respond. I can't. Yes, it pisses me off, but he’s right to question me. Isabella has gotten under my skin in ways I never anticipated, and I can't honestly say where my certainty about her innocence comes from.
“Have you considered that she’s an active part of the game? She could be playing you.”
I shift in my chair. “She's smart. Cautious.”
“That's not what I asked.”
I take another sip of whiskey, using the burn to ground myself. “I have considered it. Still will. But my take is she’s focused only on answers about her mother. It’s what makes her a good target.”
“Roman.” His voice carries a warning. “I need your clear assessment. Not… whatever this is.”
He clearly is seeing more than I want him to. Can he tell that I wake up wanting to touch her soft skin, hear her moan my name?
That watching her with Angelica makes something long-dead inside me stir to life?
That I'm starting to care about her beyond what serves our interests?
But admitting any of this to Marco would be dangerous for us all.
“My assessment is that she's not our enemy,” I say carefully. “She was manipulated. Used. But she's smart enough to recognize that now.”
“And if you're wrong?” Marco's eyes narrow. “If your judgment is compromised?”
