Page 13 of Princess Seeks Dragon

“Okay. Another week won’t hurt. I like that he was honest with me,” I whisper, and slowly turn back toward my bedroom. “Oh. Ronnie?”

“What is it, honey?” His voice is tired, and the youthful face finally seems its full sixty-something years.

“Does Mom know how ‘political’ these dates are?” I ask, not sure which answer I want. If my mother knows about his mafia connections... I’m going to be so angry at her for putting us in the line of fire, line of crime, or retaliation, or line ofwhateverhappens when your husband is in the mob. If she doesn’t, I’m going to be relieved and worried at the same time. How can she be so naive? She knows Ronnie better than I do. How could a wife not know her husband’s secrets? What does that say about either of them?

My head is going to explode.

“Joanne doesn’t know, no. I’ve always tried to keep my work from interfering in her life, but... But your mother isn’t as focused on clothes and shoes as you think. I get the inkling that she wants to ask questions sometimes, but she doesn’t.”

Why, Mom? Why?

Ronnie answers. “Who could blame her? Your father, no offense, honey, was such a loser, always involved in some scam, always in trouble with bad people. After what her first husband put her through, why would she want to burst her bubble and pry into my affairs as long as I kept you both happy and in the lap of luxury? God knows I don’t want that bubble to burst, either. If I could ‘retire’ and spend my life as a beach bum with Joanne, I’d be happy, Angie.”

My smile matches his, weary and uncertain. Is he lying to me? He’s not telling me any direct lies; he’s just not telling me the truth, and if his work could put us in danger, he has a good reason.

Except this whole thing is terrible.

He continues. “She thinks Mrs. Genovese is just a visionary matchmaker and that Vincenzo is ready to marry. That’s it. What exactly did Vinny say about his family business?”

“Just that you’re both looking to expand.” If he can lie, I can lie right back.

“Good. Good, because I don’t want you mixed up in my work. It can be pretty cutthroat sometimes, Ang.” There’s a hard note in his voice, and he looks at me with sad, tired eyes. “The Genovese family... Well, let’s say it’s better to be on their side than not. They’ll keep you safe. Keep your mother safe.”

Safe from what? I want to ask, but I don’t.

Just like your mother, huh, Angela?

No. Not like Mom. She stays and waits with her questions, letting her pampered life continue while she wonders.

Well, I know. And I’m going to get away. Get out. I know too much, and Mom’s ignorance is a happy shield right now.

“I guess I should hit the hay if I’m going to take your mother to have Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Did you know that’s a thing? All these years, I thought it was a movie title, but no, the second she found out about this business trip, she started going on about visiting Tiffany’s. Gonna buy her something pretty from there—let her pick it out herself. She’s always dreamed of going to Tiffany’s, you know.”

“I know.” And dad could never take her, and a divorced single mother working full-time and part-time on top of it could never afford that. Could barely afford to dream.

I go over to Ronnie and kiss him on the forehead as he puts his glass on the coffee table. “You go and spoil that woman, Ronnie. I’m glad you make her so happy, Pops.”

“Vincenzo’s gonna make you just as happy, sweetie.”

“I’m sure he’d try.” I give him a hug.

One last hug.

***

“JO, LET HER SLEEP.Come on. My gold card is burning a hole in my pants, babe. You know what we’re going to do after breakfast? Gonna get you something for every part of you. That pretty neck. Those sweet little wrists. Your earlobes—which will make ‘em hard to nibble, but I’m a man who sacrifices for his wife.”

“Ronnie, you’re wonderful—and so bad. Okay, okay, we’ll let her sleep. Probably would have to bump off someone to get a third seat, anyway. But we’re going to buy her a present.”

“Anything you want to buy her, honey. Just not a ring. I think that’ll be Vin’s job.”

In the midst of squealing, giggling, and some long pauses that are probably filled with R-rated whispers and kisses, my parents leave the hotel suite.

I’m next.

I’ve been awake almost all night, planning on the best way to do this, to make it look like something happened to me unexpectedly, not like I planned this.

My note is written on a torn piece of notebook paper.

---