Page 157 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

Roman saved me that night, in more ways than one.

Don Monti leans back in his chair. "So we have our answers. Salvatore and Ernie killed Mrs. Ferraza. Ernie is dead, no matter who killed him. Salvatore is dead. It seems the situation is resolved."

Roman shakes his head, and I know he’s worried the Dons won’t take our theory seriously.

"With respect, Don Monti, this is far from over. Look at the pattern. Mrs. Ferraza's death turned Isabella against Marco and the Calabresi family. Ernie's death implicated Don Ferraza, fueling Salvatore's quest for vengeance. Each death, eachaccusation has been calculated to set us against each other. I believe Sal and Ernie were pawns and that someone is still out there, pulling strings, waiting for us to destroy each other. And we've been playing right into their hands."

The room falls silent as Roman’s words hang in the air. I squeeze Roman’s hand to give him support.

“Any idea who?” Marco asks.

“I don’t. We need to be vigilant," Roman warns. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

“Well, just business as usual, eh, boys?” Dominic shrugs. “Since when aren’t we looking over our shoulders?”

“Quite right,” Antonio says.

“I think Roman and Isabella’s point is that we need to be diligent about being played. How easy it would have been for us to order Isabella’s death over talking with the Feds,” Marco says. “Or you to order mine if you believed I killed your wife, Leo.”

My father nods. “Our bond must remain strong.”

Dominic holds up his whiskey. “To La Corona.”

“La Corona,” the men repeat.

Roman and I walk in the door, and I’ve never been happier to be home.

“They’re home, they’re home!” Angelica runs from the kitchen to greet us. “We need to put out cookies for Santa. He’s coming tonight, right?”

“He’s coming, Angel.” Roman picks her up and with his other hand, he takes mine and we head into the kitchen.

Mrs. Rossi is finishing up dishes.

“Thank you for staying on Christmas Eve,” I say to her. “I know you have plans with your sister.”

“It’s never a hardship. I’m off now.” She kisses Angelica. “Be good. Remember, Santa’s watching.”

“I’m good, aren’t I, Daddy?”

“The best.”

Angelica squirms out of Roman’s arms and rushes to the table where batches of cookies sit. "Santa's going to love these. Do you think he'll eat ALL of them?

Roman chuckles. "Maybe we should only put out a few. Save some for breakfast tomorrow."

I help Angelica plate a few cookies and we take them to the living room.

The mantel holds five stockings.

One for each of us, the family one Angelica and I finished sewing, and a fifth for Baby Ginetti that Roman surprised me with last week.

Angelica carefully arranges the cookies on a table near the tree. "Daddy says Santa likes milk, but I think hot chocolate would be better," she informs me seriously.

"An excellent point," I agree, catching Roman's eye over her head. His smile makes my heart soar.

"And we can't forget the reindeer!" Angelica declares, rushing to the refrigerator. She returns with carrots that she arranges on another plate. "They need energy for flying all night. Plus carrots help you see, right, Daddy?”

“Right, Angel.” He kneels in front of her. “If Santa’s going to come, you’re going to need to get to bed.”