#princessrinaldi

He studied her picture, tilting it this way and that, trying to find the optimal angle for such a pristine face like hers. He’d indulged with the family’s money a little more than he wanted to admit, but if it was for her, he didn’t see the problem. Dangling diamond earrings in front of his eyes, the jeweller moved to show him the next set. 

“Gaudy,” he waved off dismissively, the next set. “Pathetic, disgusting--- these ones,” he stopped short, holding them to eye-level. Oh, these would do perfectly. “Does it have a matching necklace and ring?” He received a nod. Smiling, he handed the card over, gesturing to one of the Carlo’s to come collect it when the contents were in their gift bags. 

He’d rented a small park with an oversized pond for an unforgettable night. A sleek black Rolls Royce to assist them to the area. Enough clothing to fill her wardrobe for months. A lovely gown for her to wear tonight along with a fitted suit tailored to perfection adorning his build. A small gift to himself, but mostly for Aurora’s benefit. He wouldn’t go out looking like a pauper in front of her. No. He’d spoil her, because she deserved to be spoiled. Opening up the door of the vehicle, he held it open for her, a smile adorning his face. A genuine smile at that.

Ahead, lights were strategically strung from side to side, lighting up what the stars were incapable of, but even then, it was a crystal-clear view. The night was a dazzling sky of flickering white hues, each and every star in drop-dead-gorgeous high-definition. A melody of soft jazz echoed quietly throughout, and the mountain of gifts were stacked nearby a table with a small cake atop it. A single candle protruded as the cursive Italian words draped across neatly.

“Buon Compleanno, mi amore.”

When Elisabeth Rinaldi said See you at six, that meant you arrived at quarter to six. Ten in case of a family death, and five, if you got a limb chopped off along the way.

She snickered. Imagine being one of the poor fools who had to live by that rule.

As she waltzed into Giuseppe’s, head to toe in Alexander McQueen and with the now standard trio of brooding Carlos at her heel, it had to be about quarter past: a time that, in the simple small town world of Lakewood, Texas, meant a service slower than molasses, as well as a heap of obnoxious acquaintances for her to greet and beam at, but once the maneuvers perfected for the occasion had done their job, Aurora was easy to spot among the rubble. Something swelled in Elisabeth’s chest at the sight of her youngest, sweetest child, seated alone at the VIP table in the corner. All glimmering and golden, she appeared as foreign and out of kilter as Elisabeth herself. My beautiful girl.

She approached with a smile, this time genuine. “Hey, darlin’.”

A soft kiss upon the temple before she took a seat, smoothed a single crease out of her skirt. Several shopping bags landed on the spare chair, leaving only a silk-wrapped Siciliana box on her lap. Inside, a a fluffy turquoise teddy bear, and a pale pink diamond bracelet, tied around its neck in a makeshift bow. A way of saying thank you, she reckoned. For being so obedient, so understanding, so… Aurora. Sometimes, and especially now, with Pietro in the hospital, Dante away, and Valentina acting out in such an unfortunate, disappointing manner, coming home to her little girl felt like keeping a wet cloth against a burning forehead. Or something. It wasn’t a notion Elisabeth could exactly phrase without crossing into the melodrama territory, which was neither her intention, nor her style.

Besides, her children couldn’t wear empty words and have the rest of the world die of envy, could they now?  

“Don’t you go pitchin’ a hissy fit on me, I know you’re hungry, but look.” She handed the box over to Aurora. “Saw that in the window, and I just couldn’t resist. Happy Sunday, bunny.”