Page 16 of Dangerously
The man in the apron gets right to work, ordering the bodyguards around in a thick accent. They’re carrying what I can only identify as insulated pizza bags.
“I hope you like Italian.” Ronan watches the men work. He seems quite entertained.
“I love it,” I confirm.
“Good, ’cause Luigi makes the best spaghetti Bolognese on the East Coast. And his insalata mista with shaved parmesan is primo.” He kisses his fingers.
“I’m hungry already.”
Ronan flashes me a smile. I have clearly stroked his ego to perfection.
After what is only a few minutes, the entire table is set, pillar candles lit and all.
“Enjoy.” Luigi bows at Ronan before making his exit.
“Do you do this with all your business propositions?” I ask as Ronan pulls out a chair for me.
“Who said anything about business?” He sits right next to me. Luigi clearly set the table methodically, keeping our place settings close to the corners of the square glass. “My proposition is personal.”
“I won’t lie and say I’m not intrigued.” He has gone to some pretty great lengths to get my attention. But I still don’t trust him, even with all the niceties.
Ronan runs his fingers through his wavy, auburn hair. It’s much darker and browner than mine. My color red always seems to stick out. Not nearly enough orange, or brown, or blonde. Just a unique shade of shiny copper. The only other person I've ever seen it on was my mean, nasty old grandmother who was a copperhead until the day she died.
“Fallon, you have captivated me from the moment I met you. I knew you were different. That you were someone I needed to get to know.” It’s a strong start. I’ll give him that. “I’m sure you’re aware of what happened within my family a few weeks ago?” His muddy brown eyes become sharper than icicles.
I nod. Everyone knows. Rumors ripped through the criminal underworld like brushfire. For a minute, it was believed the Kennedy clan was done for, but Ronan proved everyone wrong. He emerged, the brand-new leader. The last one standing. And is now slowly piecing together an entirely new empire. “My whole family was slaughtered,” he speaks with a controlled rage. “Right in front of my eyes. My father, my mother, my sister. Those fucking San Gennaro bastards turned on us. After we gave them everything.After we joined our fucking families. After we made them fucking strong. They had it planned from the beginning.” He slams his fist down on the table, and all the glasses and plates rattle.
“Jesus. Sorry.” He reaches for me. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I’m fine.” I smile, unnerved. Even though underneath it all I am. “I’m sorry about what happened. It’s tragic, really.” I calmly take a large sip of wine.
“It is a tragedy. And that’s exactly why I need you.”
“Need me?”
Ronan nods. “Yes, I need a woman like you by my side. To help me lead. I need someone strong, and powerful, and deadly, and beautiful.” He slides his hand across the table and places it over mine. “I need an equal. A queen.”
Queen?
“Ronan,” I flutter my eyelashes, perplexed, at a loss on how to respond
“You don’t need to give me an answer tonight. You can think about it.” His stare is shrewd. It’s probing, and scheming. He is the devil. There is no doubt. No matter how docile his tone is, or how earnest his gestures seem to be. He’s a boa constrictor trying to coil himself around me.
“How about you wine and dine me and we see what happens from there?” I indulge him for now. On the surface, his offer is a sweet one for a woman like me. But I’ve never been interested in power. Or being a leader. Or being on the arm of one of the most notorious gangsters of my generation. I’m a loner. A stray. I’m not sure how I would fair with responsibilities, or boundaries, or an owner. I’ve been watched. Been controlled. Had limits forced upon me. I didn’t thrive well in that environment. I don’t know if I could revert. I’ve played by my own rules for so long. I don’t know how I would tolerate someone else’s game.
Ronan and I share a delectable dinner under a New York City sunset. It’s surprisingly pleasant. He’s charming, and funny, and shockingly well versed in politics. I also had no idea he had a law degree.
Ronan Kennedy is a man of many, many surprises.
After my third glass of wine, I am feeling no pain, and the anxiety of Ronan’s visit has deescalated. Our conversation doesn’t delve deeper than superficial things, like favorite movies, or favorite foods, or the weather. We don’t get too personal. It doesn’t behoove either of us. We both have underbellies. And trust is something that takes a long time to establish for people like us.
I clear the plates after dinner. They aren’t some cheap disposable kind either. They’re genuine china that reads “hand wash only.” I’m not the kind of girl to slave over a sink and wash dishes. I’m more inclined to just throw them away, even if they are expensive, but I’m itching to keep myself occupied. To keep my hands busy while Ronan is here, so I turn on the water and proceed to do the domestic thing and wash the damn dishes.
It is surprisingly calming. I sort of get swept away for a moment in the running water and lemon scent of the soap.
With my guard down, Ronan takes advantage and sneaks up behind me. “You look good in the kitchen.” He places his hands on my hips and rasps in my ear. As startled as I am, I keep a firm grasp on the white plate and my cool.
“I wouldn’t get used to it. The kitchen isn’t my scene.”
