Page 76 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

"I don't want to change you. That’s not what this is about.”

"Isn't it? You want me to skate, to decorate for Christmas, to smile at children. You want me to be someone I'm not."

"No." Her voice softens, but her gaze remains unflinching. "I believe there's more to you. I've seen glimpses of it. When you talk with Roman, when you protect my father without taking credit, when you…" She hesitates. "When you were with me last year."

The mention of our time together sends heat through me that has nothing to do with the sauna.

"That part of me doesn't exist," I lie.

"It does." Her fingers brush my arm, featherlight. "You just refuse to reveal it. You keep it locked away where no one can reach it. Not even you."

“Maybe I don’t want to. Has it occurred to you that I don’t want all this Pollyanna bullshit?”

Irritation flashes across her features.

She pulls back, creating distance that feels both welcome and devastating.

"Maybe I'm wrong." Her voice hardens slightly. "Maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see because it's hard to accept the truth."

"What truth?"

"That you didn't care when I left. It was probably a relief when I walked away. One less complication in your perfectly controlled life."

The accusation knocks the air from my lungs. If she only knew how the past year has been. The sleepless nights, the constant ache.

But I say nothing because she's right about one thing I am a fortress.

And fortresses don't crumble, even when they're empty inside.

Gabriella rises, adjusting her towel with one hand. “Let me give you relief again by leaving. I know you want me gone.” She moves to pass me heading to the door.

As she does, regret settles in my gut.

It’s the same old pattern.

She pushes, I resist, she leaves, and I hate myself for it.

But as she passes me, something breaks. One moment, I'm resolved to let her go, and the next, my hand reaches out and takes her wrist.

"Why do you care?" The words escape. "Why does it matter how I felt when you left?"

She freezes, her gaze on my hand as it grips her wrist.

"You accused me of betraying you and your father," I continue. "You walked away without giving me a chance to explain. And now you’re mad because you think you didn’t hurt me?”

Gabriella turns slowly, her dark eyes meeting mine. "Did I?"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" I release her wrist, regretting that I didn’t let her leave. "Knowing you hurt me."

"No." She shakes her head, a strand of damp hair falling across her face. "I don't want to have hurt you, Marco."

"Then why ask?"

"Because…" Vulnerability flickers across her face. "Because if it did hurt you, it would mean you felt something for me. That I wasn't just… passing entertainment."

The honesty in her voice strips away my defenses.

For a moment, I see us as we truly are, not a Don and an off-limits Don's daughter, not adversaries in some power struggle, but two people afraid to admit how much power they hold over each other.