Chapter 3 #2
"My priority is Angelica," I say firmly. "No matter what happens with this marriage, she comes first. Always."
"As it should be."
The city lights blur as I lose myself in thought.
For six years, it's been just Angelica and me, our little family of two.
Now I'm bringing a stranger into our home.
A woman who believes I murdered her mother, who's been feeding information to the Feds.
A woman who might still need to be eliminated if she proves too dangerous.
Fucking Marco.
I love the man as a brother. I respect him as my boss. But of all his men he could have chosen for this duty, why me?
Why expose my daughter to Isabella’s uncertainty?
"Everything's about to change," I murmur, more to myself than to Mrs. Rossi.
"Change isn't always bad," she offers.
I think of Isabella's defiant eyes, the way she fought me in that park. Not just the mugger, but me.
There was something in that fight, something beyond fear. Something I might admire if she weren’t using it against me.
If I thought she’d show the same fierceness in protecting Angelica.
"No," I agree quietly. "Not always bad."
The next morning, I’m up early as usual, making breakfast for my baby girl. I miss a lot of dinners, so I make sure I’m always there for breakfast.
I flip the pancake with a practiced flick of my wrist, watching the golden-brown disk land on the finished stack.
"Is it ready yet, Daddy?" Angelica bounces on her stool at the counter, still in her unicorn pajamas, dark curls wild from sleep.
"Almost, Angel. Just one more." I pour the last of the batter into the pan. "Want to add the chocolate chips?"
Her face lights up as I hand her a small bowl. She carefully places the chips in a smiley face pattern, her tongue poking out in concentration.
It's these moments that keep me anchored when everything else feels like it's spinning out of control.
"Perfect. Go sit at the table. I'll bring it over."
She climbs onto her chair, legs swinging beneath the table. I slide a pancake stack in front of her, already cut into bite-sized pieces the way she likes.
"Daddy makes the best pancakes in the whole world," she declares, drowning them in syrup.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit across from her, watching her eat with enthusiasm.
My chest tightens thinking about what I need to tell her.
The wedding is happening fast, just two days.
I can't put this conversation off.
"Angel, there's something I need to talk to you about."
She looks up, cheeks full of pancake. "Is it about the Christmas tree? You promised we'd decorate it today."
"We will. I promise." I take a deep breath. "It's about something else. Something important."
Her little face contorts into worry. "Is it bad?"
"No, sweetheart. Not bad, just… different." I reach across the table and take her small hand in mine. "You know how Lily's dad got married last year? And now she has a stepmom?"
“Yes. Lily doesn’t like her.”
Fuck. This may go badly.
“Yes, well… I’m getting married. Her name is Isabella.”
Her fork clatters against the plate. "But… but stepmothers are mean! They make you clean chimneys and eat poison apples!"
Despite everything, I almost smile. Those damn fairy tales.
"That's just in stories, Angel. Real stepmothers aren't like that." I squeeze her hand gently.
“Lily’s stepmom yells at her all the time.”
The truth is I have no idea what sort of stepmom Isabella will be. She hates me, which she could transfer to Angelica.
But the love for her mother tells me she understands the need for a young girl to have a mother figure.
“She needs our help."
"Our help?" Confusion replaces the fear in her eyes.
"Yes. You see, Isabella lost her mom, just like you did. And now she's all alone and doesn't have anyone to protect her." The lie comes easier than I expected, but the guilt is just as fierce. "She needs a family to keep her safe."
Angelica considers this, her seven-year-old mind processing. "Like how you protect me?"
"Exactly like that." I brush a strand of hair from her face.
Angelica makes a face as she pokes a pancake with her fork. “What if she’s mean?”
“I won’t allow that.” I take Angelica’s hand and squeeze it gently until she looks up at me. “I promise you.”
She shrugs, returns to eating and discussing Christmas. I’m glad she’s able to move on to a new topic.
Me? Isabella is still swirling in my mind. I fell asleep replaying the incident in the park, trying to figure out whether she was a random victim or the target of a hit.
And if she was meeting her handler, where was he?
Why didn’t he show up?
More unsettling was how the tussle we had as she tried to escape from me morphed into us rolling naked in my bed.
I woke up with a hard-on, something that hasn’t happened in a long, long time.
It’s not that I haven’t had sex since my wife died. I occasionally hook up with someone when Angelica is over at a friend’s house for a sleepover.
Most of my orgasms come from my own hand in the shower.
Like this morning as I imagined Isabella on her knees sucking me off, my fingers in her long, dark hair while she looked up at me with those defiant eyes.
But that’s not what this marriage is about.
Granted, I have no place to put her but in my bed, but I have no plans to fuck her.
And I’m damn sure she doesn’t want to fuck me.
I check my watch. It’s time for Angelica to get ready for school and me to go to work.
Right on time, Mrs. Rossi enters the kitchen. “Time to get dressed, Angelica.”
“Okay.” Angelica jumps down from her chair and takes her plate to the sink in the kitchen.
I rise, grabbing my suit jacket from the back of the chair, shrugging it on. “Are you going to give Daddy a kiss before you go?”
She runs over to me. I squat down as her arms come around me and she kisses my cheek. “Tell Isabella that you’re mine, Daddy, okay?”
I glance up at Mrs. Rossi, who gives a sympathetic smile.
“Nothing will change that, Angel. I will always love you with all my being, forever and ever.”
Angelica smiles and hugs me again, then runs off with Mrs. Rossi.
I head to my room, finding my gun where I keep it away from Angelica. I put on my holster and gun, slowly morphing into Marco’s enforcer.
I adjust my tie in the mirror. The man staring back at me looks confident, in control.
It's the same face I wear when collecting debts or handling problems for Marco. The enforcer who never hesitates.
But inside? That's a different story.
Will everything really be okay?
I sold Angelica a fairy tale version of this marriage. That Isabella needs our protection, our family.
The truth is messier, darker.
Isabella might be the threat we need protection from.
What has she already told the FBI? Names? Operations? Shipment schedules?
The thought makes my stomach tighten. If she's compromised certain aspects of our business, people could die.
People I care about.
And what about Angelica?
Kids aren't stupid. She'll figure out quickly that this isn't a love match. That her new stepmother looks at her father with suspicion, maybe even hatred.
In business, I always know what to do.
Someone crosses the family? I handle it.
Someone can't pay? I make arrangements.
Someone talks? I silence them.
But as a father in this situation, I'm stumbling in the dark.
I straighten my shoulders. Whatever Isabella has done, whatever she knows, I'll handle it.
I've always been able to compartmentalize, keep the blood and brutality of my work separate from my home life. I'll need that skill more than ever now.
One thing I know for certain—I'll do whatever it takes to protect both my daughter and the family business.
If that means playing husband to a woman who thinks I'm a murderer, so be it.
If it means finding out who she's been feeding information to, I'll do that too.
And if it means eventually having to eliminate my own wife?
I push the thought away, not ready to face it yet.