Page 160 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

His emphasis on "our" makes my heart sing.

"What if Angelica gets up for water?" I tease, even as I help him remove my sweater.

"She won’t." Roman's smile turns wicked as he lowers me to the plush rug beneath the tree. "Trust me."

Trust. Once so impossible between us. Now as natural as breathing.

The Christmas lights twinkle above us, red and green and gold reflecting in his eyes as he moves over me. His touch is reverent, unhurried, as though we have all the time in the world.

I gasp as Roman's fingers leave trails of heat across my skin.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, lowering himself until our bodies press together beneath the tree.

I reach up to touch his face, still amazed that this man, feared by so many, can be so gentle with me.

His lips move from my mouth to my neck, down to the hollow of my throat. When he enters me, it’s sweet yet intense.

Roman moves slowly, his forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling.

"Isabella," he murmurs, my name a prayer on his lips. His hands find mine, fingers intertwining as he holds them gently above my head.

I arch against him, drawing him deeper, wanting to be as close as possible.

"I love you," I whisper, the words flowing freely now. "I love you, Roman."

His eyes, dark with desire, soften at my words. He kisses me deeply as our bodies move in perfect rhythm, each thrust bringing us closer to completion and to each other.

“Merry Christmas, Isabella, my love.”

EPILOGUE

Roman

I'm up at 5:30 AM, a full mug of coffee warming my hands as I sit on the couch waiting for the inevitable.

Sure enough, at 5:47, the patter of little feet announces Angelica's arrival.

"Daddy! Santa came!" She launches herself into my arms, still warm from sleep.

"Let's wait for Isabella," I whisper, pulling her onto my lap.

"I'll get her!" Before I can stop her, Angelica races to our bedroom.

I follow, leaning against the doorframe as my daughter gently shakes Isabella awake. My wife, my real wife now, not just on paper, blinks sleepily.

“It’s Christmas, Mama-Bella.” Isabella’s smile is radiant. My heart is filled to overflowing to see my wife and my daughter like this.

What the fuck did I do to get this lucky?

I’ve never been religious. Never believed in angels.

But I wonder if maybe Emilia is behind my newfound happiness. I can totally see her bring me and Isabella together, two stubborn lost souls needing love.

Isabella laughs, letting Angelica pull her from bed. Our eyes meet over our daughter's head, and the happiness I see there is a fucking miracle. After everything, we found this.

The living room erupts in chaos as Angelica tears through her gifts. Isabella snaps pictures on her phone, capturing Angelica's joy as she discovers the art supplies Isabella picked out, the custom dollhouse we chose together.

“Daddy, this is for you. Isabella helped me get it.” Angelica hands me a little box.