Page 144 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

How ironic that this would happen just when I was realizing how much she means to me. How much losing her will break me.

I tuck my gun into my waistband and follow Marco out into the cold night.

One thing is certain.

By the end of the night, either Salvatore will be dead or I will.

28

ISABELLA

The darkness is absolute. I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed as I huddle on a cot against what feels like a concrete wall.

My wrists burn from the zip ties cutting into my skin, and the metallic taste of blood lingers in my mouth from where Salvatore struck me.

God, I hope Angelica is safe.

Surely, Roman is home now.

I wrap my arms around my stomach protectively, a new instinct I didn't have before today.

A baby.

The idea of a baby, of a family with Roman, seems impossible in this darkness, like a dream I had in another life.

The van ride was brutal, every bump and turn sending me sliding across the metal floor. Salvatore kept asking about the papers, about what I told the FBI. When I wouldn't answer, he'd hit me again.

"I threw the papers away." I'd spat at him. One thing for sure is that those papers have something in them Salvatore doesn’t want anyone to see.

Hopefully, Roman will find them and figure out what. The question is, will it be in time to save me?

I think back to Roman’s lessons in self-defense.

I didn’t even try one move.

Of course, I might have if I weren’t worried about Angelica. But I doubt I’d have landed any sort of punch.

The darkness shifts as a door creaks open, letting in a sliver of harsh light that makes me squint.

A silhouette fills the doorway, broad-shouldered and menacing.

Salvatore.

He flicks on a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, its weak yellow light revealing a concrete room with nothing but a metal table and chair in the corner.

His face is calm, almost bored, as he drags the chair across the floor with a screech.

"Let's try this again," he says, sitting down and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Your mother and Ernie Abruzzo. What did she tell you about him?"

My mouth goes dry. "Nothing. I told you, I don't know any Ernie."

He sighs like I'm a disappointing student. "Isabella, Isabella. Your mother was meeting with him for weeks before she died. You expect me to believe she never mentioned him?"

"My mother didn't discuss her affairs with me."

"Nothing about wanting to get you away from the family? Nothing about her little plan with Ernie?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I insist, pressing my back harder against the wall. "If my mother knew this Ernie person, she never told me about him."