Page 109 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

"Let me worry about La Corona," I interrupt. "There are ways to negotiate these things." But I worry I’m giving her false hope.

Her eyes narrow. "You can't promise that. No one defies La Corona.”

"I can't guarantee anything," I admit, "but I can promise I'll try. I'll find a solution."

"Why would you do this for me?" Suspicion edges her voice.

"Because you deserve the truth and to follow your dreams."

The silence between us feels different now, less hostile, more contemplative.

"I don't despise you," she finally says. "I just don't know who to trust anymore."

"I'm not asking you to like me, Isabella," I say. "I don't need your affection or your approval. What I need is your trust."

She looks up at me, those dark eyes searching my face. "Trust? In this world? With what's at stake?"

"Especially in this world," I counter. "Especially with what's at stake." I let that hang in the air for a moment. "I know what I'm asking isn't simple. Trust is hard to earn in our world. Even harder to keep."

I think of Marco, my oldest friend, the only man I've trusted completely since I was a boy. Even with him, there are moments of doubt, calculations made in the shadows of my mind.

"But we're walking a dangerous path here, Isabella. Whoever is behind your mother's death, whoever is manipulating you, they're counting on our suspicion. Believe it or not, I’m trying to protect you here. The FBI might tell you they’ll protect you, but they haven’t, have they? Instead of saving you from me, they encouraged you to risk your life to bring us down.”

She looks down. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

I smile. “You’re using them too, but how long would they be okay with your not delivering information before they stopped giving you lip service about your mother? You’re a daughter of La Corona, which is why you’re with me now and not dead,but there are limits. I’m begging you, Isabella, don’t push those limits.”

Isabella leaves her chair and comes to me, lowering to her knees in front of me. The posture isn't submissive, it's desperate.

"I just want answers, Roman. That's all I've ever wanted. Do you know what it's like to have everyone act like your grief doesn't matter? Like your questions aren't worth answering?"

My heart goes out to her.

"My father and La Corona act like it never happened. It was like my mother just disappeared from everyone's memory except mine."

A tear escapes, tracking down her cheek. She doesn't wipe it away, so I do, pleased when she doesn’t jerk away from my touch.

"No one cared, Roman. No one but me. Can you understand why I did what I did? Why I talked to the FBI? They were the only ones offering answers when everyone else wanted me to forget."

I lean forward. “Let me help you find the answers you need. Together, we’ll find who killed your mother. We'll find out why." I hold her gaze, making sure she sees the truth in my eyes. "But you have to trust me. No more secrets. No more calls to Blackwood."

I take her hands in mine, squeezing them gently. "The FBI isn't your ally in this. They're using your pain, your need for answers, to get what they want. And what they want has nothing to do with justice for your mother."

Her eyes search mine, and I hope she sees sincerity. I might be a monster, but my word means something.

"Okay," she whispers, and that single word changes everything. I don’t know why. What should it matter that she’s putting her faith, her trust in me? But it does.

My fingers trace her cheek. “I won’t let you down, Isabella. I promise.” It’s a promise I shouldn’t make because to be honest, I don’t know if I can keep it.

I don’t know fully what we’re up against.

But I know I’ll do my damnedest to find the truth for her.

She tilts her head, leaning into my touch. The tension in the room shifts.

It's still there, but different now, electric rather than threatening.

That undeniable, confusing pull toward her grows stronger. I should pull back, but I don't move.