Page 17 of Convenient Mafia Vows

The men in black follow her outside, and I close the door behind them.

I know this isn’t the end of it, but Olivia Dragonetti isn’t going to win.

5

VICTORIA

I sleep heavilyand wake up feeling groggy and lethargic. The events of the evening before feel like a movie scene that I watched with one foot in that hazy dream-world between sleep and being awake. I only know that it was real when I spot the shimmering black dress draped over the chair in front of my dressing table.

Caleb Murray wants me to pretend to be his wife.

Caleb Murray.

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists like a child waking up on Christmas Day excited to see what Santa left under the tree. I mean, he’s one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. He’s a billionaire.A fucking billionaire. And of all the women in the city he could’ve chosen to fake-wed, he chose me.

“What’s wrong?” a small voice asks. “Are you sick?”

“No, sweetie.” I roll over and stroke the hair away from Abigail’s flushed face, still smiling.

“Are you angry with me for breaking the projector?” Her bottom lip rolls out, and her eyes grow large with tears.

I pull her into me, and hold her tightly, relishing the warmth of her small body next to mine. “No, Abigail, I’m not angry with you. You didn’t mean to break the projector, did you?”

“No. It was already broken. I was trying to fix it, but Mrs. Lawrence said I shouldn’t have touched it, and it was my fault it wouldn’t work.”

I have to push Caleb Murray out of my head until this is resolved. Abigail is more important than a silly projector, and it occurs to me then that I could ask Caleb Murray to replace the kindergarten equipment for me. He wouldn’t even miss the money. It would be like candy money to someone like him.

But firstly, I need to find Mason and speak to Mrs. Lawrence about getting Abigail reinstated back in kindergarten. She can’t have this on her record all through her education. She’s a bright kid, brighter than most kids her age, and it isn’t her fault that the teachers don’t know how to handle her. But most importantly, I need to address the use of the word ‘stupid’ when addressing a five-year-old child.

I scramble eggs for our breakfast, while singing along to old pop songs on the radio channel. It surprises me that Abigail seems to know all the lyrics to songs that were released in the last century. Where does she even learn this stuff?

“Auntie Sienna likes this song,” she says when Cher starts belting out ‘Believe’.

That’swhere she learns this stuff.

I try calling Mason, but the call goes straight through to his voicemail. I don’t leave a message; I don’t want Abigail to hear the panic I know I won’t be able to keep from my voice.

Where is he? I can’t believe that he left Abigail alone in the apartment last night. Sure, she was asleep, but anything could’ve happened to her—my pulse races just at the thought of all the terrible things that you read about in the news. I’m just grateful that she’s alright.

Locking Mason away in the same corner-cupboard of my mind as Caleb Murray, I get Abigail dressed and we take the subway to the school.

I’m nervous about meeting Mrs. Lawrence. She’s a stout woman who wears her hair pulled back into a severe bun, no makeup, and ugly practical shoes with patterned socks. It’s my bad that she always reminds me of Miss Trunchbull fromMatilda.

Abigail has no such anxiety. She keeps up a steady stream of chatter all the way there, hardly pausing to breathe. She doesn’t even need me to respond, which is just as well as my mind keeps wandering to the feel of Caleb Murray’s tongue in my mouth.

Mrs. Lawrence greets me with a limp handshake, not quite what I expected. It does nothing to ease my nerves though. Mason still hasn’t called me back, and I should’ve given my decision to Caleb already.

“Abigail.” Mrs. Lawrence peers at us from behind her desk, pudgy fingers entwined. “Do you have anything that you would like to say?”

“She didn’t break the projector—” I begin until the head teacher cuts me off with a look that would splinter glass.

“I would like Abigail to answer the question.”

Okay…

“I was trying to fix it,” Abigail says, and my heart melts at the confidence with which she addresses the older woman. I decide on the spot that I will kill anyone who tries to bully this confidence out of her. “Because it was broken.”

“Hmm.” Mrs. Lawrence turns her attention back to me. “You understand that this was an expensive piece of equipment that the school will now have to replace.”

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