Convenient Mafia Vows (Ruthless Billionaire Mafia Kings)

15. Victoria

15

VICTORIA

I ask Emily to stay outside with Abigail and rush into the house to speak to Mr. Dragonetti. I find him alone in what must be the family den. There’s a gigantic flat screen TV on the wall, and a sunken sofa littered with cushions that would easily seat ten people. A coffee station takes up one corner of the room, and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the landscaped gardens which stretch as far as I can see, surrounded by majestic trees.

Mr. Dragonetti smiles at me when I barge into the room and gestures for me to sit with him.

It feels strange reclining on a sofa in Terry and Moira’s house with a man like Mr. Dragonetti after what happened the night before, even more surreal than fake-marrying Caleb. But it isn’t until I curl my legs under me and turn to face him that I notice the bulky bandage beneath the sleeve of his sweater.

“Are you… Were you hurt last night?”

He offers me a gentle smile. Close up, and without his daughter’s fury dominating the room, I can see that he must’ve been a handsome man in his youth. His silver hair is still thick with no signs of receding; his eyes are clear brown, and his nose is slender, all the classic features of a twentieth-century Hollywood movie star. But there are deep grooves across his forehead, and heavy pouches beneath his eyes that suggest his lifestyle keeps him awake at night.

“I’ll live, Victoria.”

I swallow. Now that I’m here, I realize that I can’t blurt out the question I need to ask him. If he didn’t hear what Emily and I were talking about, I want it to stay that way. I can’t ruin this for Caleb, and besides, I’m not ready for this to be over. Not after what happened between us last night.

I expected Mr. Dragonetti to be unapproachable, given the guests at the dinner party and the direction the conversation took, but I realize now that he is nothing like his daughter. “Has this happened to you before?”

His face lights up with his smile. “If you’re asking if danger comes with the territory, the answer is yes.” He pauses. “But yesterday was quite an unusual occurrence.”

“Unusual in what way?”

“So many questions. Did your husband forget to warn you about the kind of life you were getting yourself into?”

Shit! He obviously heard enough.

“I … just never expected it to happen to me.” I’m stalling, and I can see in his eyes that he knows it. My fingers instinctively cover the dressing on my arm under my sleeve.

His eyebrows lower, and the smile fades. This is the man I expected to confront, the formidable man with clenched jaw and dark eyes. “Who took care of you?”

“Caleb. It’s nothing. Just a graze.”

“And yet here you are with me, wanting to know if I am hurt.”

His voice softens, and I understand why Olivia is the way she is. I don’t know if Mr. Dragonetti has other children, but I’d bet that she is still treated like his baby. Unlike Emily though, Olivia expects attention from everyone who orbits her existence.

“I… It’s scary. You must’ve been scared too.”

Knowing that he was shot and that the bullet probably glanced off him and hit my arm, doesn’t make the situation any less frightening. I might not have been the target, but he’s right: this is the life I’ve gotten myself mixed up in by agreeing to fake-marry Caleb Murray.

This time, his smile reveals faintly discolored teeth. “No one has ever asked me this before. In the moment, I thought only of my daughter.”

My stomach twists. Of course, his first thought would be to keep his daughter safe—it’s parental instinct. He is Olivia’s protector. It’s just frustrating that the mention of her name can have such a negative effect on me.

“And now?” I ask.

“Now I see before me a brave young woman, and I understand why Caleb chose to marry you.”

“Marry me?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Is he hinting that he knows we’re not married, or is he just genuinely a nice guy? I wish I could read him, but my experience of dealing with people like Mr. Dragonetti is severely limited.

“You must forgive my daughter, Victoria.” Must I? Forgive her for what? Trying to steal my husband? “My wife died when Olivia was a little girl, and I know I’m guilty of being too lenient with her. I hope that someday you and she can be friends. You see, Olivia needs people like you in her life.”

I seriously doubt that we will ever be friends, but I don’t voice my opinion out loud. Relief that Mr. Dragonetti hasn’t mentioned the fake marriage combined with confusion at the way the conversation has turned leaves me speechless.

He is still a mafia boss, his daughter is still an asshole, and this doesn’t change the fact that we both got shot last night.

For the next few hours, while Emily plays with Abigail in what used to be Emily’s playroom when she was a little girl, Moira and I start fleshing out plans for the wedding party.

The Titan’s ballroom, according to Moira, is already glamorous. She talks about the pale gold décor and the sprung flooring that is perfect for dancing as if she doesn’t want me to alter anything. But when I tell her that I’d like it to be Great Gatsby themed, with lowlights, and flapper dresses, and the men in linen suits, she doesn’t try to change my mind.

Moira agrees to handle the guest list. She asks me who I would like to invite, but with Mason still missing, and my mom in Florida, the only person I can think of is Sienna.

A thought occurs to me. “My friend is an artist. Maybe I could commission her to create some artwork for us. Maybe pictures of me and Caleb in scenes from The Great Gatsby .”

“If you think there will be enough time.” Moira peers at me from behind spectacles linked to a fine gold chain around her neck. She is on her tablet preparing the guest list.

“We haven’t set a date for the party yet.”

“The sooner the better, sweetie.” Her voice is all honey and lightness, but I get the first glimpse behind it of a strong woman who has carved out her own niche within this male-dominated mafia family. “I was thinking perhaps the week after next. Unless you have any objections.”

She wants this whole situation over and done with. She has a mafia don in her house and a woman masquerading as her daughter-in-law, not to mention the ripple effect following last night’s shooting incident.

But tears well in my eyes at the thought of walking away from Caleb in two weeks.

I hoped we would have more time together. I hoped, stupidly perhaps, that we could get to know one another, build on the obvious attraction that exists between us. I’d even hoped that Moira might be on my side, but I understand now how wrong I’ve been. Her allegiance is and always will be to her children, and I can’t blame her for that.

“No. No objections,” I mutter.

But I have lost enthusiasm for planning the event.

When Caleb said that I could organize our wedding reception, I’d felt the thrill of opportunity coursing through my veins. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, ever since I was a little girl creating imaginary parties for my dolls. At high school, I would use the computers to check out celebrity balls, storing the glossy images inside my head, and tweaking them in the solace of my bedroom at home, adding my own personal touch to décor and themes and colors. Sienna found her creative outlet through watercolors, but I found mine through glitzy imaginary galas.

Now, my first opportunity to plan an event that will be attended by some of the wealthiest people in New York has been tainted by the palpable taste of losing Caleb Murray.

He was never yours to begin with , my stupid brain yells at me.

So, what was last night all about then, my heart murmurs back.

“Why don’t you call your friend now?” Moira suggests.

I know she was kind enough to look after Abigail and welcome me into her home, but now all I can hear is the desperation in her voice to get us out of Caleb’s life so that their world can return to normal.

I take my phone out of my pocket and try Sienna’s number. It rings and rings and then cuts off. Sienna doesn’t like using voicemail, so I wait a few seconds and try again, with the same result.

I type out a message: Hey, Si, give me a call when you get time. It’s regarding wedding plans . That should grab her attention.

“She must be busy,” I say to Moria’s enquiring eyebrow.

Caleb walks in then, and my heart performs a triple-somersault. I wish it wouldn’t. I’m already trying to mentally prepare myself for when this is all over and we’ll never see each other again.

“Ah, there he is.” Moira slides from her chrome bar stool at the kitchen island and kisses Caleb’s cheek. “We’re discussing the wedding reception. The Titan is available two weekends from now.”

She busies herself making coffee, and Caleb’s eyes lock onto mine. An unfathomable expression dances across his features before he rearranges them into a small smile. “How do you feel about that? Will it give you enough time to plan it the way you would like?”

Is that disappointment I can hear in his voice? Or am I just fooling myself that there’s a connection between us? Maybe it was just sex to him. Maybe he makes every woman he fucks feel as special as he made me feel last night.

Sienna is right. I need to stop giving off chilly vibes and live a little; perhaps then I’ll stop falling headfirst for every guy who shows me some attention. Every guy? Who am I kidding? There’s only ever been Danny and Caleb, and I’m acting like a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl all over again.

“It’ll be fine,” I manage when I realize that he’s still waiting for an answer.

I consider telling him that I can’t get hold of Sienna, and I’m not attending my own wedding party without my best friend, but I decide against it. It’s enough that he’s going to give me money to help Sienna, it doesn’t mean that he cares about her.

He nods once. “Mom will help you with the guest list.”

“Already on it, Caleb.” Moira comes back to the island with coffee for her son.

They exchange glances that don’t include me, and I wonder if bringing the reception forward was Caleb’s idea all along.

Caleb sips his coffee and sets the cup down on the island counter. “Is Dragonetti still here, Mom?”

“He was in the den when I spoke to him this morning,” I blurt before Moira can speak.

Caleb’s eyes flicker back and forth between us, and now I’m certain that there’s something going on that I don’t know about. “I’ll go and find him.” He’s gone before I can ask him what’s going on.

I don’t think it’s a conscious reaction, but Caleb has this knack of making me feel like an outsider, when his words tell me that he wants me to slot into his life. And this is one of those moments. Sure, no one knows him as well as his mom does, but if he wants to convince the rest of the world that we’re married, shouldn’t he be including me in whatever is going on here?

Caleb returns to the kitchen a few minutes later. “He’s gone.”