Page 28 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

"More importantly," I continue, "why would Marco agree to this marriage? If we killed your mother and knew you were investigating us, the last thing we'd do is bring you closer. We'd eliminate the threat."

I stand in front of her, her dark eyes looking up at me.

"I'm not a good man by society's standards. I've done things that would horrify you. But I've never killed without purpose, and neither has Marco. Murdering the wife of a La Corona member would be business suicide. It would have started a war that benefited no one."

Her eyes search mine, like she’s looking for deception.

"If we were guilty," I say softly, "you wouldn't be sitting in my bedroom right now. You'd be in the ground next to your mother."

The tension in the room is thick, but something's shifted. I see uncertainty in her eyes now, a crack in her conviction.

"Look," I say, softening my tone. "I understand wanting justice for your mother. If someone hurt Angelica's mother and got away with it, I'd tear the world apart to find them."

Isabella looks up, surprised by my admission. It bothers me a little bit, which is strange.

Normally, I like that people think I’m a monster, that they fear me.

"What if I helped you find the truth?"

"You?" Disbelief colors her voice.

"Yes, me." I set my hands on my hips and stare down at her. "I want to know who is trying to set me up, set Marco up. You want to know who really killed your mother.”

“What if it’s someone in the Calabresi family?”

"If someone in the Calabresi family did kill your mother, which I don't believe, then they betrayed Marco too." I let that sink in. "Marco would want to know."

I can see her processing this, weighing my words against her preconceptions.

"Besides," I continue, "wouldn't it be better to work with me than against me? If I'm innocent, I can help you find who's reallyresponsible. If I'm guilty…" I spread my hands. "You'll have your proof."

Her eyes narrow. "And I'm supposed to trust you?"

"No. You're supposed to be smart. Use me." I lean against the wall. "You think I'm a monster? Fine. But I'm a monster who knows where all the bodies are buried, figuratively speaking."

A ghost of a smile touches her lips despite herself.

"We're stuck with each other, Isabella. This marriage isn't going anywhere. We can spend it as enemies or we can find common ground. Your mother deserves justice, and if someone's using her death to manipulate you against La Corona, they deserve what's coming to them."

She studies me for a long moment, and I see the war playing out behind her eyes, suspicion fighting against hope, hatred against pragmatism.

"How would this work?" she finally asks.

It's not trust. Not yet. But it's a start.

I lean forward, making sure Isabella understands the gravity of the situation. "Let me be crystal clear about how this works. You don't leave this apartment without my knowing where you're going. You don't make calls to anyone, especially not the FBI, without my knowledge. Those aren't requests."

She flinches at my tone but quickly recovers, fire returning to her eyes. "So I'm a prisoner."

"You're alive," I counter. "There's a difference."

Isabella stands abruptly like something has snapped inside her. She paces the room. "This is exactly what I've been tryingto escape my entire life! The control, the rules, the constant surveillance.”

I watch her, trying to understand her.

She stops, looks me squarely in the eyes. “I don’t want any of this. I want to live free of all this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have gone to the FBI to ask about your mother and forced La Corona’s hand.”