Page 120 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

"You're a lot of help. Your perspective helps, Isabella. It gives context to what I'm finding."

She looks surprised, then pleased. "You actually value my input?"

"Of course I do." I reach across the desk, my fingers brushing hers. "We're partners in this now."

I catch Isabella staring at me, a question in her eyes.

"What?" I ask, setting down the scissors.

"Nothing." She shakes her head, smiling softly. "It's just nice. This side of you."

I reach for the silver ribbon she was handling earlier, letting it slide between my fingers. "I've got many sides, Isabella."

"So I'm learning."

The air between us shifts, electric with possibility. I stand, moving around the desk until I'm behind her chair. She tenses slightly but doesn't pull away when I drape the ribbon over her shoulder.

"You know," I say, my voice dropping lower, "Angelica's presents aren't the only things I'd like to wrap tonight."

Isabella's breath catches as I trail the ribbon down her arm.

“And then unwrap.” I take the ribbon and slowly draw it around her wrist, not tight enough to bind, just enough to feel. "I've been thinking about you all day. Even when I shouldn't have been."

"Like when?"

"Like when I was with your father." I wrap the ribbon once more around her wrist. "Like when I was planning tonight's business." Another loop. "Like every minute in between." I tug gently on the ribbon, drawing her to her feet. "Do you think of me?”

“Sometimes.”

I trace the ribbon up her arm, across her collarbone. “Like when?”

“Like always.”

I smile, ridiculously pleased by her answer. "I want to unwrap you. Slowly. Thoroughly."

Her eyes meet mine, and I’m even more pleased that I don’t see fear anymore. "Then do it."

Right there in my office, I unwrap her body and touch her until she comes undone in my arms, and then I follow her over into the sweetest pleasure.

22

ISABELLA

I wrap my scarf tighter as Angelica bounces beside me, her mittened hand clutched in mine.

The Christmas lights strung across Fifth Avenue cast a golden glow on her upturned face.

It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten into the spirit of Christmas.

Through Angelica, I’m reminded of the magic of it.

"Can we get a present for Daddy that he doesn't know about?" she asks, her eyes bright.

"That's exactly why we're here. Operation Secret Santa."

It feels surreal shopping with my stepdaughter, planning surprises for Roman.

Just weeks ago, I was terrified of him.