Ugly Ronney: mafia romance [English]

Chapter 18-2

The living room gave the impression of being in the garden because of the huge bay window letting the light in.

Sitting around the table, I took advantage of the moment of solitude to talk with Timothy and Ashley by video conference. I smiled as I watched the expressions on their faces. They were complaining about their hard days of work, about the turmoil within those walls, but they still found time to joke together.

Yeraz had decided to take away their day off during the week. From now on, they would only have Sunday.

"He's been in a terrible mood since you left," Ashley said.

"Yes, because of you, we don't sleep anymore, and we have to eat only sandwiches because the breaks are so short."

Timothy pretended to shoot himself in the head. I missed them both.

"I saved a bottle of wine for you. It's stashed under the sink," Ashley whispered with a knowing wink.

I smiled.

"I'd be happy to stop by for a drink," I replied with a heavy heart.

Suddenly, I heard the front door open. My break was over. Camilia and her daughters had returned from lunch with Yeraz. The matriarch had preferred that I stay here. It was a family meal where things had to be said.

I quickly said bye to my two former assistants and hurried to turn off the tablet. Camilia, accompanied by her daughters and Hadriel, entered the living room. Peter, who had just joined them, gave me a not-very-friendly look. He pulled a chair beside me and sat down, glaring at me.

"Great sweater!" said Cyliane. "Do the big circles mean something?"

"Yes, it's a message to aliens to say she's one of them."

Peter's tone was beyond bitter mockery. I clenched my jaw and turned my face toward him.

"I didn't feel ready!" I whispered.

"What is your goal in life, Miss Jimenez?" Peter whispered, a bit annoyed. "To stay ugly for the rest of your life?"

"Maybe!"

Hurt, I withdrew into myself.

"It's a shame, because even with all the will in the world, you couldn't do it."

I suddenly came back to him. This unexpected confession on his part was shocking.

Uneasy, he carefully avoided looking at me, but added in a low voice, "I can't work miracles if you don't put some effort into it!"

I pursed my lips and thought for a moment before answering.

"Choose some clothes for me that are a little less flashy and I promise to make an effort. I can't change overnight."

When he looked into my eyes, I felt a strange empathy from him. He gave me a half-smile and nodded.

"Can we start?" asked Camilia while looking at her watch.

Everyone around the table nodded. I lowered my head and stared at Ghita's six-inch heels. She had my respect for managing to walk on those all day. Peter kicked me under the table to get me to focus on the meeting.

"The next charity gala will take place on December 23, the last one of the year. Tyra Banks, the spokeswoman and friend of the Fashion for Liberty organization, will plan the event around the fight against the precarity of single mothers in the underprivileged areas of California. All donations will be donated to Better Life and One Chance. The organization is counting on us to invite an array of exceptional guests for this important evening." Camilia turned to me and added, "Ronney, I imagine this event inevitably matters to you. You come from these neighborhoods."

The sympathetic nods of the Khan daughters and Hadriel forced me to take the most solemn look possible.

"Yes, indeed. It could help a lot of families."

Peter discreetly rolled his eyes.

Camilia continued, "Well, the event will take place in Los Angeles. On the program: dinner, concert, and fashion show. Aaliyah and Ghita, you'll walk for Victoria's Secret and Chanel. Hadriel, Dolce Gabbana and Balmain absolutely want you."

Camilia paused and consulted her notes on her phone before continuing by looking above her glasses.

"Peter, you will assist the artistic direction. Nothing must be neglected."

My neighbor accepted his mission with the utmost seriousness, as if this charity gala had become the most important thing to him. When Camilia turned to me, my neck sank in my sweater.

"Ronney, that night you will have to make sure that the guests find their seats and that no paparazzi goes backstage. Only photographers with badges will be allowed to photograph the models before the show."

I nodded. She spoke in a calm, yet cold voice. Everyone around the table listened attentively and respectfully as she gave instructions and tasks to everyone.

Cyliane asked, "Will Yeraz be there?"

Camilia fell quiet and thought for a moment, then her gaze randomly settled on the bouquet of white roses on the table. She was clearly wondering if the presence of her son was necessary.

Finally, Hadriel answered.

"Even if the shadow of this weekend's tragedy is slowly fading, it would be better if he weren't present at this event. It's a charity gala. He shouldn't monopolize the attention of this important event."

He had spoken in a kind tone, but without warmth.

The Khan daughters discussed it a moment before putting themselves on Hadriel's side, then Camilia abruptly changed the subject so as not to extend on this sensitive point.

"My lawyer has sent a warning to The Daily News to respond to the lies being spread about our family. I was in a meeting this morning with the newspaper's management and the matter appears to be on the verge of resolution."

"What about Tess Lawrence?"

The question had suddenly escaped me. Camilia glared at me. Squinting, she examined my question. Some surprised glances, hardly hidden, were exchanged all around the table. Peter rubbed his forehead.

"Transferred. She will be assigned to a new position in Europe." Camilia paused for a moment and then clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth before declaring, "She wanted to play. She lost!" She stared at me for a few seconds before returning to her children. With a lighter tone, she asked, "Who's going to host the Christmas Eve party this year?"