Page 67 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

She nods and turns to leave. I watch her walk back to the bedroom, her slender figure disappearing into the hallway.

Despite the shit show going on between us, the sight of her in my T-shirt stirs something inside me that I thought had died with Emilia.

I pour another finger of whiskey and down it in one swallow, willing it to burn away whatever this feeling is.

Isabella seems innocent. Her search for her mother's killer feels genuine. The way she looked at me tonight, with trust in her eyes despite everything she's been told about me and my family… it felt real.

But men in my position can't afford to trust easily.

She's still hiding that phone. Still keeping secrets. And she's smart, smarter than most people give her credit for. If she wanted to play me, she could.

But no matter how Isabella makes me feel when she's in my arms, no matter how much I want to believe she's being manipulated rather than manipulating me, I can't let my guard down..

I'll help her find the truth about her mother, but I'll do it my way—cautious, controlled, and always ready for betrayal.

Because in this world, feelings get you killed. And I have too much to protect to die for something as foolish as desire.

12

ISABELLA

I wake the next morning to an empty bed, as usual.

Roman's been up for hours and is now probably making breakfast with Angelica.

My body still hums from yesterday's… lesson.

I press my fingers to my lips, remembering how his mouth felt against mine. How his body felt inside mine.

When he touched me, I forgot everything. My suspicions. My fear. My mission.

His hands were gentle, nothing like the hands of a killer.

His eyes watched me with such intensity that I felt truly seen for the first time in years.

I close my eyes, remembering how he guided my hips, how he whispered in my ear, asking if I was okay.

The memory alone makes heat pool in my belly.

No one warned me that desire could be this consuming, this confusing.

But what if every tender touch, every considerate gesture is just another way to control me? Keep me quiet and compliant?

My father always kept me sheltered. Now I understand why.

It's hard to think clearly when your body wants something your mind says you shouldn't have.

Roman hasn't forced anything on me. He's given me space to work on my designs. He's even teaching me to protect myself. These aren't the actions of someone who means me harm.

Are they?

But I can't forget how he hid whatever he was working on when I entered his office. The way his eyes turned guarded. The way he reminded me of the wedge between us.

I'm caught between two worlds, the safety of his arms and the danger of his loyalty to the Calabresi family and La Corona.

Between the pleasure he gives me and the pain of not knowing if any of it is real.

But why would it be?