Page 8 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

I push myself up from the chair, my legs unsteady beneath me. "A ready-made family? With a man who eliminates people for a living? Who will kill me if I don’t marry him?"

"Isabella—"

"An enforcer? Not even a Don?" The words burst from me, raw and pained. "You bargained me down to someone's henchman?"

It’s conceited to say, but I know my father had to take offense at that.

Father's expression hardens. "Be grateful I bargained for your life at all. Marco would never have agreed to marry you himself. Not with your… activities."

The hurt pierces through me.

My own father, trading me away like damaged goods.

The Ferraza name used to mean something. I used to mean something.

"When?" I ask, my voice hollow.

"The ceremony will be this weekend. Small, private. You'll move into Roman's home immediately afterward."

Three days. Three days until I'm handed over to a man who works for the family I've been trying to bring down.

The family I believe murdered my mother.

"Why won't you fight for me?" My voice cracks as fear and pain get the best of me. "I'm your daughter. Your only child."

Father's eyes harden. "Fight for you? What do you think this is?" He slams his palm against the mahogany desk. "This marriage IS me fighting for you, Isabella. La Corona wanted your blood. They demanded your execution. I convinced them to spare you."

I sink back into the chair, my knees suddenly too weak to support me.

"If not for my intervention, you'd already be dead. Roman was the compromise that kept you breathing."

"But the Calabresi family?—"

"Is part of La Corona, just as we are." Father cuts me off. "You've endangered us all with your betrayal."

"Betrayal?" The word stings as it leaves his lips. "Is that what you call seeking justice for Mother?"

Father's expression shifts, pain flickering across his features before the mask of Don Ferraza returns. "You went outside the family. Outside La Corona. You spoke with federal agents."

"I have evidence." I lean forward, conviction urging me on. "Documents showing Calabresi connections to Mother's death."

"Evidence?" Father scoffs. "From whom? That FBI agent who's been feeding you information? Since when do they hand out evidence? No. They’re using you to bring us down. Bring me down. Is that what you want?"

"Agent Blackwood has been helping me find the truth. A truth you've ignored for the last year." I pull myself up straighter. "The Calabresi family ordered her murdered."

Father studies me for a long moment, something like pity crossing his face. "Isabella, if Marco Calabresi wanted your mother dead, he would have come to me first. That's how La Corona works. We don't move against each other's families without La Corona’s approval. But more importantly, for what reason would he want her dead? There is none."

"Then who?—"

"I don't know who killed your mother." His voice softens. "But I know it wasn't Calabresi."

“Why aren’t you looking for justice for her?”

His eyes narrow. “Who says I’m not? Who says I haven’t?”

I sit back, confused. “You haven’t told me?—”

“So you can run to the Feds to share my misdeeds? You break my heart, Isabella.”