Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
E MERALD
Ronnie took me to lunch earlier, and now he’s driving me to work. Arriving at Christian’s casino, we walk inside together, but our conversation is disturbed by a loud screech. Because as we turn the corner and enter the main floor, we’re assaulted by his ma’s voice shrieking that she wants a word with Ronnie.
“Okay, I’ll catch you later,” I mumble as I swiftly extricate myself from his hold and spin on my heel.
“Hang on, Em.” He catches my arm. “You’ve still got ten minutes until your shift starts. Come and say hi to my ma.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“How are you ever going to get her to like you if you don’t spend any time with her? She just needs to get to know you a bit, and then she’ll start to understand all the amazing things I see in you.”
And as he gives me his special smile, I give in. “Let me just get something from my locker.” He nods with a grin as I flee to the staffroom out back.
“You’re early, Ma,” I hear Ronnie say.
“I wanted to spend some time with my favorite boy before my birthday party starts…”
I groan. Ronnie didn’t tell me that it’s his ma’s birthday—or that she’s having a party at the casino tonight. Dumping my bag in my locker, I wonder what I’ve done to deserve this? If I’d have known that Ronnie’s ma was going to be here, I definitely would have turned down this extra shift, even if it meant that I would lose out on the much-needed cash. Because Ronnie’s ma takes iciness to a level that goes beyond the coldest temperatures at the North Pole. She really hates me. Although Ronnie says most of it is in my head.
But every time I see her, she ignores me. Or if she does lower herself to look at me, the only thing I get from her is a dirty look. My friends say all mothers are hard to win over; but if you ask me, Italian mothers are a whole different species. To them, looking after their precious sons is akin to participating in an extreme sport—they devote endless energy to the pursuit of this single cause and would even lay down their life if needed.
Looking in the mirror, I straighten my dress—a gorgeous number in a shade called Metallic Melody .
Pulling back my shoulders and standing up tall, I walk back to the main floor. But as I approach, I can clearly hear his ma’s not so dulcet tones ringing out across the casino.
“Why are you so upset, Ma? I don’t get it. What’s up?” Ronnie is trying his best to calm her down.
“What’s up?” she snaps. “I’ll tell you what’s up. Marjorie Martinelli just called me and told me that Elsa Liabardi’s ex-aunt’s cousin’s wife’s best friend just saw you in a restaurant with that God-awful girl who’s a slut just like her hooker mother?—”
The word slut rings in my ears.
“Ma,” Ronnie interrupts, “Emerald’s mom isn’t a hooker. She’s an escort.”
“Oh please, her mom can call herself whatever she likes, but everyone knows what she really does when men pay her.”
“Ma, you’ve got it wrong?—”
“How could you let me hear it from Marjorie Martinelli of all people?” she yells. Oh jeez, Marjorie is the biggest gossip in town. “The shame! Have you no consideration for your own ma? I raised you to be better than this, Ronnie Mainetto.”
“Ma, Emerald’s a nice girl.”
“A nice girl,” she scoffs. “What, with a family like hers! Everyone knows that Emerald Fiorelli is nothing but a gold digger who thinks that her way back into our wealthy mafia circle is by acting like a whore just like her mother.”
“Ma, you should just give her a chance and let yourself get to know her.”
“What, like you let her give you blow jobs in the back of your car? Don’t think I don’t know how she got her claws into you in the first place!”
I wince, a tide of heat rushing up my cheeks. I haven’t actually ever done that in his car, but it’s clear she has a pretty low opinion of me. And now everyone else in the casino knows this as well, given how loud her voice is.
“Why don’t we all go out to dinner together one evening so you can talk with Emerald properly?” Ronnie is suggesting.
I peek around the corner and watch as she cuffs him around the ear. “I don’t want anything to do with that girl.”
“Ma, you’ve got it wrong. Emerald doesn’t do that sort of work like her mom does.”
“Oh, please. Like mother, like daughter. She spread her legs so that you’d notice her. Why else would you even glance at a girl like her? You’re a great catch, while she’s not even worth as much as the trash in the gutter.”
Anger and upset swirl within me.
“I’m not having that girl anywhere near me or our family. Think about what you’re doing to our reputation after all the years your father spent building it up! Keep away from her, Ronnie. I know her type. She’ll get herself pregnant just to trick you into marrying her. Don’t ruin all the plans I have for our family .” I wonder what plans she means…
“You just have to get to know her, Ma.”
“I know her type, thank you very much,” she snaps. “I knew her family before her dad betrayed the organization. And let me tell you, Emerald Fiorelli is just as much of a whore as her mother is.”
Ronnie gives a light chuckle. “I know you don’t really mean that, Ma.”
Er , doesn’t she ? She sounds pretty darn convincing in her hatred of me . Sometimes , I really have to wonder about Ronnie’s powers of deduction .
“Hey, Em.” I jump as I hear a voice behind me. It belongs to Addison. The casino is already busier than usual. “You didn’t tell me that your boyfriend’s mother was having a private party here today.”
“Didn’t I?” I say in a weak voice. I check the time on my watch and rush behind the bar and clock in, hoping that I don’t look as flustered as I feel. This isn’t how I’d envisioned my shift would go.
A little while later, I feel my heart sink when I notice Ronnie’s ma come up to the bar to get another glass of champagne.
“I’ll serve her,” Addison murmurs, and I flash her a grateful smile.
Even though my hands are clean, I go to the small basin at the rear of the bar and wash. It’s no secret that his ma doesn’t like me. Emotions swirl within me as everything she said earlier reruns through my mind. I wash my hands again and again, trying to let the ritual soothe me. The nail varnish on my thumb starts to peel at the edges, and shaking my head, I tell myself that I’ll only wash them once more, and then I have to stop. Because I don’t want anyone noticing and thinking I’m strange.
I definitely don’t want to have to deal with Ronnie’s ma at this party. I’m just going to have to stay out of her way so that I can avoid her acerbic tongue and cutting comments.
I see Saint sitting at the other end of the bar. Oh jeez, why do I have to deal with him today as well? But luckily, I get called over by someone else wanting a round of drinks, so I have the perfect excuse to ignore him.
Things quickly become busy at the bar as more attendees for the party arrive. I lose count of the number of drinks I prepare, my attention split between my work and looking for Ronnie.
I’ve only caught his eye in the briefest of glances, and he even gave me a small smile, but I’d be lying if I say it doesn’t sting a bit that he actually hasn’t come over to talk to me since the party started. He always reassures me that he doesn’t care what his ma or anyone thinks, although sometimes I wonder if he’s telling me the truth.
“Oh, God, what are you doing here?” An annoying, nasal voice interrupts my thoughts. I don’t even have to turn around to know that it’s Ria Gioberti. Just great. It’s like all my least favorite people in the world have decided to come together tonight just to make sure that I have the shift from hell. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she hisses. “Aren’t you too poor to frequent these sorts of gatherings? And I don’t want people to think I socialize with someone from the gutter…”
I grit my teeth before turning around to face her. “I’m working, obviously. Do you want a drink?” I know that I have to be polite to her because I can’t risk one of the supervisors hearing me be rude toward a customer. I really wish I could say something to Ria and tell her to leave me the hell alone. But when I confronted her at school once, she got her mother to come in and complain about me being verbally abusive toward her. It was my word against Ria’s, and I was warned at the time that I could lose my scholarship place if I got into any further incidents. Money talks, and Ria’s family has plenty while my family has next to none. And at work now, it’s exactly the same thing—I can’t risk getting in trouble because I desperately need this job. I just have to bite my tongue and keep my retorts inside me, the whole time my mind conjuring up all the things I wish I could say to Ria.
She tosses her golden hair over her shoulder and demands a martini.
I tug down at my dress which is riding up a little too much, probably due to the few pounds I’ve put on recently.
She looks me up and down, a gleam in her gaze. “Hmm, your uniform looks a bit too snug. You’ve obviously gained even more weight. You really need to lose a few pounds if you want to keep a man.” She snickers as she watches me. Her cronies have come up behind her and join in with her laughter.
I wince as I hear the cruel words. She is a size zero, and it’s something she constantly boasts about, like her weight is something that makes her totally superior to me.
And noticing my embarrassment, she zeros in on my discomfort. “You’ve obviously been at the cupcakes again, Emerald,” she sneers as she cackles another laugh at my expense.
I can’t help the flush of red that rushes up my cheeks. I stiffen my spine and glare at her. “Yeah, and they were delicious— all three of them .”
Her mouth drops slightly. I doubt she even remembers what sugar tastes like, what with her obsession over being a size zero. I feel a small swell of satisfaction at her expression. Because I’m not letting that mean girl fat-shame me. So what if I’ve turned to sugary treats a bit too much lately? It’s hardly surprising with everything I’m dealing with right now.
Pouring her drink as fast as I can, I’m relieved when she prances off with her friends, thankful that she has other things to occupy her tonight instead of sticking around to insult me. I try to let my job distract me, telling myself that I’m here to work and earn some money. Ria looks over and smirks at me. Why does she keep giving me looks like the cat who’s got the cream? It’s giving me the creeps. I shake my head. She’s just trying to gloat that she’s enjoying herself while I have to work.
An hour or so passes, and I’m kept busy with all the drinks orders that keep coming in. I’m trying to ignore Ria, which is hard when she keeps shooting me a smug look like she’s just got given an exclusive ticket to the Chanel catwalk show.
I wince as a loud, piercing sound fills the casino. Someone fiddles with a microphone, and conversation ebbs away as people turn toward the small stage.
Ronnie’s ma is standing there, looking like the poised mafia housewife she is. No doubt she’s about to make some boring speech. I wonder if anyone will notice if I sneak off for a quick break…
“I’d like to thank everyone for joining us here today to celebrate my birthday,” she starts, her gaze sweeping across the room. Ronnie and his father join her, standing off to the side as she continues. “This is such an important day for my family.” She looks over at someone in the crowd and waves them over. “Please join us…”
I look across, but I can’t see who she’s waving to.
“And I can’t think of a better time or place to make this special announcement.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “To strengthen the bond between our families, I’m absolutely thrilled to announce the engagement of my handsome Ronnie to the lovely Ria Gioberti!”
The room erupts with chatter and thundering applause.
I watch Ronnie and Ria step forward on the stage.
But I can’t hear anything going on around me.
It’s like time slows down to a crawl. Everything is unnaturally still, just like waves that lull before a shattering storm.
My lungs refuse to take in air as I watch that awful girl kiss Ronnie— my boyfriend —to celebrate her engagement.
My boyfriend is engaged to another woman.
It blindsides me like a bullet in the back. Nausea roils in my belly. Anger and hurt overwhelm me. I’m not sure what’s worse—the fact that he’s marrying someone else or that he’s marrying Ria of all people.
And a knife slices my heart as she smirks across the room at me as Ronnie wraps an arm around her waist with a small smile.
And when he meets my gaze, his eyes flash with what I know is an apology, but I can’t even bear to look at him.
How long has he known about this? And what was that conversation with his mother earlier? Was he planning on keeping me as his mistress after marrying Ria? Is that why he wanted his mother to get on with me?
I can’t remember a time I’ve felt so betrayed by someone. It’s devastating to love someone but then learn they were never really yours to begin with. I came to work in a relationship, but now, I’ve been dumped in front of the whole Imperiosi. Lots of people are shooting curious glances my way. It’s common knowledge that Ronnie and I have been dating for ages. But I can’t get my feet to move so that I can flee from their intrusive stares. It's like I'm on a stage and the whole world is sneering at me.
Addison comes over to me. “I’m so sorry, Em,” she whispers, breaking me out of my reverie as the sounds of the room come crashing back to the surface.
I can’t bring myself to speak. I’m even afraid to take too deep of a breath in fear that my tears will fall if I do.
Because no matter how hurt I am, I refuse to give Ria the satisfaction of knowing she’s hit me where it hurts.
Everything in me wants to run far from here, to escape outside and scream until I go hoarse. But I don’t have the luxury of doing that. Because I need the money from this shift. There are so many bills to pay, plus Giulietta and Jaspar both need new clothes and shoes. They grow out of everything so quickly at their age, and it’s a struggle to keep up with it.
All this situation does is remind me how insignificant I am to others. As far as they’re all concerned, I was only ever someone Ronnie was messing around with.
Addison has set sparkling crystal flutes on a silver tray, and I’m now filling them with celebratory champagne, trying not to let my hand shake.
Ronnie’s ma is standing near the bar now, accepting congratulations from all her cronies, while Ria’s voice rings out from across the room. His ma drones on and on about how the marriage will bring the families together and how the alliance will make the Imperiosi even stronger.
Every word that comes out of her mouth just makes me feel worse, wounding me as reality stabs a sharp stake through my heart.
How can I have been so damn stupid? I should have realized something was up, and I should have seen the goddamn signs.
But the worst thing is that aside from being my boyfriend, I thought he was my best friend. And now I’ve lost both. Because a best friend would care enough to at least warn me.
He suddenly appears at the bar—thankfully, without Ria—and looks at me with his puppy dog eyes. “Em, look…” He rakes a hand through his hair as he sighs deeply. “My family, um, you know…”
I can’t even look at him. I don’t want to see his pity or sympathy or guilt.
Ria skips over next to him, slobbering a kiss full on his lips before shooting an evil smirk at me. “Two flutes of champagne,” she orders in a sickly singsong voice. “After all, I have to celebrate the fact that I’ve bagged the best guy here.”
Even though I absolutely hate her guts and am raging with Ronnie right now, I’m still on the clock and can’t refuse to serve them. Losing my boyfriend is bad enough, but I can’t afford to lose my job on top of that.
I snatch two flutes from the tray and slam them down in front of them, the liquid slopping over the rim of the glasses. I might have to serve them, but I certainly don’t have to look happy about it.
“We’re trying to make the family stronger,” Ronnie says, finally finding his voice. “I didn’t want to hurt you or anything, but…you know how these things go…”
I can’t handle hearing his words, so I turn my back on them and find Addison.
She looks at me with concern etched around her eyes. “Oh hon, is there anything I can do for you?”
“I just need a few minutes,” I whisper.
“Of course,” she says, squeezing my shoulder in sympathy.
I walk off, but I find Ronnie following me, this time without Ria sticking to him like a leech. He grabs my arm and spins me around to face him.
“You could have told me beforehand in private!” My words hurl through the air like an express train about to come off the rails.
“I thought this was the best way to tell you,” he says in a weak voice.
“ What, in public, in front of the whole Imperiosi ?”
He shrugs. “I thought you'd be more likely to accept it if it was a done deal. And we can still carry on seeing each other after I’m married. Lots of made men keep a mistress.”
I close my eyes briefly. “So, you’re saying I'm good enough to bang, but I’m not good enough to marry?”
And when Ronnie doesn't reply, I have my answer.
“Great, as well as being called a slut and a gold digger, now I can add ‘idiot’ to the glowing opinion most of the gossips have of me,” I mutter.
“Em, I need to marry someone whose family is important in the organization...” He leaves the words unsaid, but I know that can't be me. Because of what my father did and what my mother does now. Ria’s dad is a captain, however, making her the perfect partner for him.
He still hasn’t actually said the words, I’m sorry . Actually, his apology should’ve come yesterday—when he should’ve given me a heads up about what was going to happen at the party. But he never did that. Instead, he just let me find out along with the rest of the Imperiosi, as if I meant nothing to him.
“Look, Em. Maybe you’re not cut out to be a wife to someone like me.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
He gestures at me. “Well, you know…”
“Just say what you mean, Ronnie.” I haven’t got a clue what he’s getting at.
“Well, you know, my ma says that mafia wives have to meet certain standards.”
“Like?”
“Come on, Em. You know you’ve let yourself go a bit lately.”
“ Let myself go ?”
“Yeah, with your…weight and stuff.”
My eyes widen, and my cheeks flush. I’ve gained a few pounds over the last couple of months, and my curves are even fuller than normal. That’s hardly a crime. But I’m so stunned for a second that I can’t get a response out.
“My ma says that it’s a bad sign. Because if you’re like this now, what are you gonna look like after you’ve given me six kids?”
“What makes you think I was ever going to give you six kids, Ronnie?” My voice drips with disbelief.
“But my ma says that it’s important for a man like me to have an heir and plenty of spares.”
“For God’s sake, Ronnie, you and your crazy ma can just go to hell!”
It’s humiliating enough to be treated like this in front of everyone, but for Ronnie to then criticize my body makes a wave of mortification flood through me. Okay, so I’m not a size zero or anywhere near it. So what? I’ve got boobs, hips, full thighs, and an ass, and I don’t starve myself. What’s wrong with that? Why are women always goddamn judged by their looks and weight?
“Look, Em—” he starts to say.
“And just to be clear, we are over. Freaking done . I’m not goddamn being a mistress to you or anyone else. I’m worth a hell of a lot more than that.”
“Aw, Em, don’t be like that.”
“Ronnie, let me tell you one thing. I want to be loved by a man for who I am inside, not on my looks and weight. What if I was in an accident and disfigured or something ? I want a man who wouldn’t care because he loves me just the way I am . I want a man who appreciates me for my worth and treats me like his queen. And I definitely don’t want to be with a man who judges me with his shallow and superficial standards.” I can’t talk to him anymore. “Just leave me alone, Ronnie.”
Pulling away from him, I briefly return to the bar and pour myself a double shot of tequila to take with me. I need something to soothe me, and given murder is wrong, I’ll have to settle for alcohol.
Leaning against the wall outside, the events of the last twenty minutes roll through my mind on repeat. Is there something wrong with me? How could I have been so freaking wrong about Ronnie? And how did I not see any of this coming? And it just leaves me feeling so…unlovable. And so worthless.
This doesn’t feel real. This can’t be real. I’m not sure who I should be mad at—Ronnie for humiliating me or his stupid family for putting him up to this.
And it feels so personal as far as his ma is concerned. Because out of all the Imperiosi establishments his ma could have chosen for tonight’s party, she had to choose the casino I work at. Could any of this be an even bigger slap in the face?
I feel like I’ve had a bucket of frozen water thrown all over me. No, that’s a freaking understatement—not something that I can often be accused of—because I feel like I’m being drowned by a tsunami wave of humiliation, hurt, and unhappiness, unable to reach the surface to suck in a lungful of calm still air to soothe my racing mind.
I’m savoring each sip, clicking my bracelet clasp open and shut with my free hand, when Saint walks out of the casino and joins my side.
He’s the last person I want to see. He probably just wants to gloat he was right when he said the first time we met that Ronnie would never marry me. He lights up a cigarette.
I swipe a tear away from my cheek. “Can you find somewhere else to smoke please,” I huff. “I need a bit of peace if I’m going to wallow in my misery.”
“This is the only area where smoking is permitted,” he says in his infuriating languid voice.
“You have to choose now to care about doing the right thing?”
He exhales a ring of smoke that’s as perfect as an angel’s halo. “You’ve lost me.”
“You didn’t care about doing the right thing and telling me the truth about who you were when I thought you were a cop,” I clip. But deciding I don’t want to get into this with him right now, I turn my body slightly away from him, and we both stand in silence. I take another sip as our eyes trail the pattern of hazy smoke as it disappears into the deepening dusk.
His voice penetrates my musings. “I got my wallet back, thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Valentino.” I don’t know why I feel the need to call him by his real name, but calling him by his nickname just seems too pally, too intimate.
“You know, you’re smart enough to have worked out my name without having to resort to stealing my wallet.”
With his birthday being on Valentine’s Day, maybe I should have been able to guess. I shrug. “It was quicker than playing guessing games with you.”
“I like games.”
“Well, I don’t.” The silence beats between us. “Anyway, how come you’re a tough mobster but named after the patron saint of lovers?” I can’t keep the incredulity—and faint curiosity—out of my voice. I can’t see him delivering love to anyone. Maybe hate but definitely not love. Because from everything I’ve seen and heard of him, he’s cold, brutal, and heartless.
“Hey, he was the patron saint of beekeepers as well,” he adds in a mock injured tone.
“Beekeepers? I didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do.”
We slip into silence again, and I let the liquor soothe my frayed soul.
“I came outside,” he starts in a casual tone as he keeps his eyes on the sky, “to check if you’re okay.”
My eyes widen. “What, because it’s a super-relatable moment when your cheating boyfriend gets engaged to a girl you hate?”
“You’ll go onto bigger and better things.”
“I can’t talk about it. I’m in mourning.”
“The fuck you are,” he says in a hard voice.
“ Excuse me ?”
“You’re not upset. You’re embarrassed, humiliated, mortified.”
My breath exhales with incredulity. “I’d bet on my life that no one’s ever told you that you have a comforting manner.”
He just stares at me, his eyes making a heated feeling spread over me.
“Look, if you’ve been sent out here to ensure that I’m not thinking of making a scene in there, you don’t need to worry. I know this isn’t Jerry Springer . I’m not about to march over and punch him in the face.”
“Why not?”
My jaw drops as I turn my face toward his.
“Look, don’t get upset,” he drawls.
“That’s easy to say if you’re coldblooded. My heart’s been broken. How else am I supposed to feel?” I wail.
“Your heart isn’t broken, sweetheart. Trust me, you’d know if it was. Focus your energy into getting angry.”
“And what good is that going to do?”
“It’ll make you feel better.” He drops his smoke and grinds it out with the heel of his handmade Italian shoe, before sauntering back to the casino.
As he walks away, he passes Ronnie’s orange Lamborghini, and I hear the harsh jagged sound of metal grating against metal like nails on a chalkboard. And I realize that he’s just keyed Ronnie’s brand-new car.
Something about it makes him appear almost human instead of someone who’s cold and untouchable.
I feel the tips of my mouth pull upward...
And, just for a moment, I let a smile replace the upset in my broken heart.