Page 56 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

God, what am I doing?

A few days ago, I was convinced this man was a monster, possibly even my mother's killer. Now he’s not only made me doubt Agent Blackwood, but I've let him touch me in ways no one ever has.

And I liked it.

A lot.

I turn onto my side, hugging the pillow tightly. When I showed Roman the evidence Blackwood gave me, the shell casings, the car sighting, he didn't rage or threaten.

He looked confused. Thoughtful.

Like a man genuinely trying to solve a puzzle, not cover his tracks.

“Everyone knows not to leave shell casings,” he'd said. Such a simple statement, but it's been burrowing into my brain ever since.

Would professional killers make such amateur mistakes?

Would the Calabresi family, with all their resources and experience, leave such an obvious trail?

Roman is right. They don’t continue to live free to do their corrupt deeds by being stupid and reckless.

I’m feeling confused and torn about what to believe, who to believe.

But it’s clear I’m leaning toward Roman.

I’d told Blackwood I couldn’t help him. That I’d find the truth another way.

Instead, I’m putting my faith in Roman to help me find the truth.

I shouldn't trust him. He's La Corona through and through.

But when he looks at me, when he touches me… I feel safe. Protected. Seen.

God help me, I think I'm starting to trust the most dangerous man I've ever met.

For reasons that don’t make sense, knowing all this makes Blackwood's push for me to keep spying feel wrong now.

He says I’m in danger and he won’t be able to protect me if I don’t help him.

I don’t doubt that I’m in danger, and yet, I’m not dead.

I talked to a federal agent and all of La Corona knows it.

But instead of killing me, they married me to Roman.

Granted, it’s his job to keep me out of trouble and probably learn what secrets I’ve spilled, but I don’t feel in danger. I am alive.

In Roman's bed.

The man who was supposed to be my executioner instead brought me fabric and art supplies and then touched me in ways I’d never experienced.

I roll onto my back, heat flooding my cheeks as I replay what happened in Roman's office. My body still hums with the aftershocks of pleasure. His hands were so sure, so knowing despite their lethal capability. The patience in his voice when he asked what I wanted…

“Perhaps another time, I can teach you more,” he'd said, voice like gravel and honey. The memory sends a fresh wave of warmth through me.

What must he think of me?

Twenty-five years old and completely inexperienced. A virgin who melted at his touch.