Page 52 of Convenient Mafia Vows

VICTORIA

I askEmily 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 withno 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.

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