Page 163 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

I can't help the laugh that escapes me. "I am twenty years older than you, you know."

"That's different," she says, but her cheeks flush slightly.

"Is it?” I pull her closer against my side, enjoying the warmth of her. "Marco deserves happiness as much as anyone. He's been alone a long time."

Isabella leans into me. "You're right. I suppose I'm just surprised. Gabriella always seemed so… independent."

"Maybe that's exactly what draws him to her," I suggest, watching my old friend's face soften as Gabriella laughs at something.

"You know," I say quietly to Isabella, "your father originally wanted Marco to marry you. The Don of the Calabresi family would have been a more prestigious match than me."

Isabella follows my gaze to her father, then looks back at me. "Is that what you think? That I got the worse end of the deal?"

"It would have secured your position better. The wife of a Don rather than his right hand."

She turns to face me fully, one hand reaching up to straighten my ridiculous Christmas tie.

"Roman Ginetti, I wouldn't trade you for all the Dons in Italy. You gave me the truth when everyone else offered lies. And you gave me your heart when you swore you never would again." She rises on her toes to press her lips gently against mine. "I didn't just get the better end of the deal. I got more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I’m quite a catch.”

“Yes, you are.”

I lean in and kiss her. For a moment, I see our future. More Christmases like this, but with more children. More joy. More love.

When Marco told me to marry Isabella, he didn’t give me an assignment.

He gave me my life back.

And I plan to hold on to it, to savor it, until my dying breath.

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

Don Marco Calebresi

I scan the room, glass of scotch in hand, watching the families of La Corona celebrate Christmas.

The grand ballroom of my estate, transformed with twinkling lights and evergreen garlands, buzzes with conversation and laughter.

Roman stands with Isabella, his hand protectively at the small of her back. It’s nice to see him happy again.

This holiday cheer surrounds me but doesn't penetrate.

I like to observe more than participate.

I don’t have a wife. No children. And I don’t plan to.

Parties like this seem to be specifically for wives and children.

"Aren't you going to join in, Marco?" Dominic Vitale approaches, nodding toward the gathering.

"I am exactly where I need to be." My eyes drift across the room, landing on Gabriella Monti.

She stands near the Christmas tree, elegant in a deep green dress that accentuates her impressive curves.

She’s twenty-eight years old and possesses all the grace her father lacks. Personality too.

She’s like sunshine mixed with champagne bubbles. Both are things I feel like I hate, except in her.