Page 12 of Princess Seeks Dragon
Chapter Five: Angela
“What are you doingup so late, princess?” Ronnie blinks at me when I emerge at one in the morning, startling him as he holds a tumbler of bourbon in his hand.
“Couldn’t sleep.” I’m not lying, but that’s far from the whole truth. I’m not asleep because I’m planning my getaway. Like, my actual getting away from this place, these people. I can’t marry some mobster who doesn’t even love me!
“Ah, you know what they say, Angie. Can’t eat, can’t sleep, it’s love. You barely touched your food at dinner.”
“It’s a lot to take in.” I’m choosing my words carefully. I’ve always seen Ronnie as a loving, gentle, sometimes quirky guy. Was it all a lie? If I tell him what I know, am I going to end up “sleeping with the fishes” in concrete shoes in the best pulp fiction tradition? I shudder.
“Vincenzo told me that you’ve won his heart. You can stop worrying, sweetie. The attraction is mutual,” Ronnie says softly, downing the rest of his drink, letting the ice shift and clink in his glass.
“Really? Because...” Every syllable could be the one that tips me from beloved stepdaughter to liability.
“What?”
“Because he told me that his dad is pushing him into this because you two are going into business together, and you want to uh... You want to be a big contender, and there’s a bigger rival company. But I guess Joey is paranoid, huh? And he’s worried you’ll sell him out or go to the other guys?” I don’t look at Ronnie while I talk, fiddling with items on the little bar in the living room, rearranging the remotes on the coffee table.
“Oh? He told you that, huh?”
“So he’s like the king of one kingdom, and you’re the king of the other. You have a daughter, a princess, to marry off to his son, the prince. It’s a political marriage in modern day, isn’t it?” I conclude in a whisper, taking one of the tiny glass bottles of club soda. I open it and listen to the hiss of the carbon escaping, listen to the crackling of millions of tiny bubbles in a tight space while Ronnie stares at ice cubes and says nothing.
“He doesn’t love me, Ronnie,” I finally whisper.
“I don’t— He might not love you yet, Angie, but a lot of people have marriages made by matchmakers who want what’s good for them. Your mom and I love you, and we want you to be happy with a man who’ll protect you and cherish you. And I know Vincenzo will do that, or he’ll answer to me.”
Smiling, funny Ronnie isn’t smiling now. His face is sad, dark, and haunted. “I have a cousin—in the same business,” he says quickly, “and he has a daughter. Sweet girl, Janine, but it’s like you say. I’m sort of the king. Don’t want to be. Didn’t start out to be. But kings rule kingdoms and take care of their people, and believe me, sweetie, Vincenzo will take such good care of you. You’ll grow into love, I know it.”
My arguments collect in my mouth, along with angry questions and pointless, incoherent screaming.
“I don’t have to marry him, though.”
Ronnie puts the glass down. “Not right away.”
“Ronnie, I...”
“Look, give it three more days. Better yet, spend another week in the city, go out with Vincenzo a couple of times. You’ll see what he’s like. He’s a good guy, gonna make a good husband. You know, if you two hit it off, Mom and I might rent a little place out this way. Come up and see you once a month. You could take classes at one of these campuses you’re interested in...”
Words ring hollow. As a child schooled in watching her biological father make empty promises that were never kept and listening to conveniently worded half-truths told to my mother, I know that’s all Ronnie is giving me. Half-truths. Well-placed lies.
