Page 59 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Mafia Princess

“Jonah, I need to tell you why tomorrow matters.”

He leaned against the counter and waited.

“My last name is Russo,” I said. “Domenico Russo is my father.”

Jonah stayed still.

I’d expected recognition, disbelief, or at least a question. His silence made the refrigerator’s low hum fill the room.

“The Domenico Russo?” he finally asked.

“Yes.”

He took in my diamonds, the gold at my wrists, and the red dress hanging behind me. They were pieces I’d let him interpret as wealth without explaining where the wealth came from.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“My family owns legitimate businesses.”

“That sounded like the beginning of a longer answer.”

“It is.”

I tightened my fingers around the mug.

“The legitimate businesses coexist with organized crime.”

Jonah didn’t step away.

He touched the back of the chair across from me. “Sit down.”

“I am sitting.”

“I meant that I’m going to.”

He pulled out the other chair and lowered himself into it. His forearms rested on the table, but he didn’t reach for his coffee.

“Tell me the rest,” he said.

I drew a slow breath.

“I worked for Daddy as his executive assistant. I managed his calendar, correspondence, travel, personal expenses, private vendors, and selected reimbursements.”

“You worked inside the organization.”

“Yes, but I didn’t run it. I didn’t control the money, and there are parts of the business I wasn’t involved in.”

Jonah said, “You knew what the organization was.”

“I grew up in it.”

The words came more quietly than I intended.

He waited.

“My psychology degree was acceptable because it was a degree. Using it was another matter. Daddy thought becoming a therapist would embarrass the family.”

“You said your father didn’t approve of the career.”