Page 6 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

This isn't just business.

It's my life. My daughter's life.

I think of Angelica waiting in the kitchen, excited about Christmas cookies and tree shopping.

How do I tell my seven-year-old daughter that she's getting a new mother for Christmas?

A mother who might not survive the winter if she makes one wrong move?

"I'll do it," I finally say. "For the family."

Marco nods, satisfied. "For the family. The arrangements will be handled immediately. Leonardo's estate. This weekend. Small ceremony, family only."

Three days. Three days to completely reorganize my life.

I mentally catalog what needs to be done—security sweeps of my home, making a space for Isabella, preparing Angelica.

How will she take this news?

"The official story," Marco continues, "is that you've been seeing each other discreetly for months. A Christmas wedding, romantic enough that no one will question the speed."

Don Ferraza looks physically ill but manages a nod. "I'll inform Isabella tonight. She'll… understand her position."

I doubt that. A woman who betrayed La Corona to avenge her mother won't suddenly become compliant.

She'll be a caged wildcat in my home.

Around my daughter.

Fucking hell.

The meeting concludes with handshakes, Don Ferraza’s grip trembling slightly as he clasps mine.

In his eyes, I see the desperate plea of a father.

Keep her alive if you can.

I exit the room, my mind still processing this new reality.

Isabella Ferraza. My wife.

I've seen her at family functions over the years, always elegant, composed. Eyes that observe everything while revealing nothing.

Beautiful. Intelligent. Dangerous.

It would be a shame to kill her. A waste of beauty and breeding. But I will, without hesitation, if she threatens my family.

I head toward the kitchen, actively leaving behind Roman the enforcer so that by the time I reach the doorway of the kitchen, I'm just a father again.

I smile at the sight of my daughter with sprinkles dusting her cheeks as she helps Elena's triplets decorate cookies.

"Daddy!" Angelica spots me, waving a star-shaped cookie like a trophy.

"Ready to go, Angel? We've still got time to pick out our tree."

One last normal afternoon before everything changes.

One last memory of just the two of us.