Page 38 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

Everything else is just a distraction.

But fucking hell. She’s seared into my brain.

I turn the nob up to hot and grip my cock. It’s not like I haven’t jerked off to thoughts of her. In fact, it’s a little annoying that I’m having to do it again.

What the fuck is wrong with me that this woman has me succumbing like this?

With jerky, angry strokes, I masturbate to thoughts of Isabella’s pussy around my dick, imagining pumping harder and faster until she screams my name and I empty inside her.

Once I’m done coming and then washing my body, I exit the shower. I dress in a suit and then leave my bedroom, careful not to look at Isabella so she doesn’t bewitch me again.

The apartment is silent except for the soft hum of the heating system. It's early, but Angelica will be up soon.

In the kitchen, I pull out the waffle iron and ingredients.

I miss a lot of lunches and dinners, so I make a point to always have breakfast with Angelica.

Some things in life need to stay consistent, especially when everything else is changing.

The familiar routine settles me. I can make breakfast with little input from my brain, which is good because my thoughts keep drifting back to the woman sleeping in my bed.

Isabella. My wife.

"Daddy?" Angelica's sleepy voice pulls me from my thoughts. She stands in the doorway, hair tousled, clutching her stuffed rabbit.

"Morning, Angel."

She runs to me, and I lift her onto the counter. "Waffles?"

She nods, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "With chocolate chips?"

"Is there any other way?" I tap her nose, earning a giggle.

As I fold chocolate chips into the batter, Angelica swings her legs against the cabinets, watching me with curious eyes.

"Is she still sleeping?" she asks.

No need to ask who "she" is. "Yes. She had a long day yesterday."

Angelica considers this. "Mrs. Rossi says I should be nice to her."

I pour batter into the hot iron. "Mrs. Rossi is very smart."

"But what if she doesn't like me?"

The vulnerability in her voice makes my chest tighten. I turn from the waffle iron to look at her properly. "Angelica, anyone who doesn't like you is missing out on knowing the most amazing girl in the world."

She fidgets with her rabbit's ear. "But what if she tries to take you away from me?"

Christ. I should have prepared better for this conversation.

"Nobody could ever take me away from you." I brush her hair back from her forehead. "You're stuck with me forever, Angel. That's the deal."

The waffle iron beeps, and I turn to retrieve the first waffle, placing it on Angelica's favorite purple plate.

"Besides," I add, pouring more batter, "I think Isabella might surprise you. She noticed your outfit yesterday. She said she liked how you put colors together."

Angelica perks up at this. "Really? She likes fashion too?"