Page 45 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

Every hour that passes is another opportunity for her to cause trouble.

The knock on my door is followed by Roman’s entrance. “You look like shit,” he says, dropping into the chair across from me.

I rub my eyes, not bothering to deny it.

Sleep has been elusive, my mind constantly circling back to Gabriella, her defiance, her accusations, her body that haunts me in dreams. “You haven’t heard from Antonio, have you?"

Roman slides a folder across my desk. "Not directly, but I have this. Isabella had lunch with Gabriella and Elena yesterday."

"Fascinating." I don't even try to hide my sarcasm. "Should we discuss their fashion choices next? Or perhaps their favorite Christmas cocktails?"

"Don't be an ass. Isabella said Gabriella was fishing for information about you and a certain FBI agent."

This catches my attention.

I can’t imagine Gabriella telling anyone she’d talked to an FBI agent. "What did Isabella tell her?"

“Just that Gabriella shouldn’t trust his intel. She did mention our theory that someone is working to bring La Corona down and could be feeding the Feds information.”

I shake my head and rub my temples. Right now, I’m so tired of this shit.

“Elena apparently mentioned that Dom has concerns about Antonio. I’m not sure how much longer you’ll be able to keep Antonio’s health a secret, but getting that out into the open could be a good thing.”

"Did Isabella mention anything else?"

"Just that Elena got worked up about Luca. Said something about Gabriella being just as smart and too bad she couldn’t take over."

I snort. "God help us, but she’s not wrong. Gabriella has what it takes."

Roman raises an eyebrow. "High praise from you."

"Acknowledging someone's intelligence isn't praise. It's a threat assessment." I stand, walking to the window.

Snow falls outside, dusting the area out back in white. "Gabriella's intelligence is precisely what makes her dangerous."

"Or valuable," Roman suggests.

I turn to face him. "We've had this conversation. I'm not marrying her."

He tries to hide a grin. “You’re the one with marriage on the mind. I didn’t say marriage. But having her on our side would be an asset."

"She thinks I'm plotting against her father. There is no 'our side' with Gabriella Monti."

"Not immediately, but Isabella can be persuasive. She shared her own experience with Blackwood, how he manipulated her with questionable evidence about her mother's death."

"And she bought that?" I ask, not buying it myself. Gabriella's suspicions of me run too deep to be overturned by one lunch conversation.

"Isabella thinks she planted seeds of doubt, at least." Roman leans back in his chair.

"Even if she's having doubts about Blackwood, that doesn't mean she trusts me," I say flatly. "She's been convinced for a year that I'm trying to steal her father's territory."

"True." Roman shrugs. "But she's smart enough to recognize when facts don't add up. If she questions Blackwood's evidence?—"

A sharp knock interrupts us, and Carlo opens the door without waiting for a response.

"Don Calabresi, Gabriella Monti is here to see you."

I freeze, momentarily caught off guard. "Here? Now?"