Page 18 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

What is wrong with me that I’m still attracted to him?

“Gabriella.” My father breaks the quiet. "I know you mean well, but what you did today, embarrassing me like that in front of La Corona, demanding to enter a meeting that has been men-only for generations, it’s disrespectful to me and the others."

I turn to face him. His complexion is paler than usual, the lines around his eyes deeper. It only strengthens my resolve.

“You agreed with me earlier that I could help,” I remind him.

He looks at me blankly. “I wouldn’t. La Corona is just for the men.”

My heart breaks that he doesn’t remember the discussion we had on the way over to Marco’s home.

But I’m not surprised.

Even as we were discussing my joining the meeting, I sensed he wasn’t all there.

“I just want to protect the family.”

"By making me look weak? By suggesting I need my daughter to fight my battles?"

“If necessary. Marco Calabresi is not the ally you think he is."

Father rubs his temples. "Not this again, Gabriella."

"Yes, this again! They're waiting for you to slip, waiting to take advantage?—"

"Enough!" His voice rises. "This behavior stops now." His tone leaves no room for argument. "You're my daughter, not my consigliere."

"I'm also a Monti," I counter, meeting his gaze directly. He knows I’m as strong as any man. "Everything I do, I do out of love for you and our family. If that means making enemies of men like Marco Calabresi, so be it."

Father looks at me, something between frustration and admiration crossing his face. "Your mother was just as stubborn." He sighs. "I suppose that's what worries me most."

I watch the fight drain from my father's face.

He reaches across the seat and takes my hand in his. “This is partly my fault. I indulged your need for independence. Never tried to tame your spirit. And I am proud of you?—"

"Then why won't you listen to me about Marco?"

“Because you’re wrong. Marco is a hard man, but he had to be. He was only twenty-two when he became the head of his family. Younger than you are now." My father’s voice grows distant with memory. "His father and brother were killed in the same week. The other families wanted to carve up the Calabresi territory like vultures."

"And you stopped them," I finish, knowing this part of the story.

"I reminded them of the vow we took when we joined La Corona. It’s the same vow Marco took. Later, Dominic took it as well when his father passed. We all do, and it’s not just words. The vow means something. We’re not just loyal. We help each other.”

Does that mean Marco is helping him?

I wonder what my father would think of Marco’s vow if he knew Marco had slept with me.

The car pulls into our driveway, and my father suddenly looks very tired.

Inside our home, he heads toward the stairs. "I think I'll rest for a bit.”

I nod. "I'll wake you in an hour."

He studies me, concern and affection mingling in his gaze. "Gabriella, promise me you won't do anything rash."

"I promise to protect our family," I say carefully.

Father sighs, recognizing the distinction. "That's what I'm afraid of," he murmurs, but climbs the stairs without further argument.