Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
E MERALD
The schools are right next to each other, and when we arrive to pick them up, I can’t help but grin like a maniac at the way the kids leap all over me. Even Milena gives me a tight hug. God, I’ve missed them so much, and I’m just so glad that they’re okay.
Once we’re back in his SUV, I explain to the kids that we’re going to be moving in with Saint for a while.
“What about the apartment?” Jaspar asks.
“Well, you see, um, Saint and I are, er, getting married.”
Milena looks surprised, but I just smile at her. Saint talked to me about this, and he said it was best that the kids believe our engagement is real so that they don’t reveal the truth to anyone by mistake.
Jaspar’s nose scrunches up. “You’re marrying a cereal thief, Em? Jeez, where do you find these guys?”
Saint’s face falls at the opinion of the six-year-old, and I fight to suppress my grin.
“I thought you had higher standards than that,” Jaspar continues, oblivious to the glare Saint is giving him.
A while later, Saint pulls into the drive of a grand house in Venetiville. Looking up at the mansion, I can tell that the kids are impressed. It’s even bigger and grander than Giotto’s place.
We climb out of the car, and I notice the armed soldiers patrolling the grounds. The Cicconis don’t live in Venetiville, and I know that Christian’s banned them from the area while they have me on a hit list.
“How many people did you have to rob to get a crib like this?” Jaspar asks with a furrowed brow.
My mouth twitches, but I decide not to correct him about what Saint actually spends most of his time doing—killing. It’s better at his age that he thinks the mafia are just about robbing people.
Before we picked up the kids from school, we swung by my place, and I packed up some bags and boxes of things to last us all while we have to stay here.
Saint pops the trunk and grabs a handful of bags. “You know, for not having a lot of shit, you have a lot of shit,” Saint mutters as he moves past me.
“It’s not that much!” I call after him. The house has a grand entrance, towered by worn stone columns. The dark oak doors are both open and lead into the large and very formal looking atrium—yeah, we have an atrium now, which Saint tells me is bigger and better than a plain foyer—with two staircases leading to a landing on the second floor. There are several doors and what looks like a sitting room with furniture covered in sheets. Milena and Giulietta stare up at the second story, mouths open.
The box in my arms vanishes, and I stop my gawking in enough time to see Saint disappearing up the stairs.
“This place is…,” Milena starts, turning around.
“Big?” Giulietta finishes. “Is there a pool?”
I shrug, unsure as I walk down the marble tiles that stretch across the atrium. “Maybe?”
“Can we see our room?” Milena asks.
“Oh…uh.” I’m not sure what to tell them. Saint and I only briefly discussed this move. And by briefly, I mean he told me how it was going to go down, and that was that. But it’s probably a safe bet to assume there are plenty of rooms for all of us.
“Can we pick them out?” Milena asks excitedly, and I open and close my mouth trying to find the answer. This is Saint’s house, not ours.
“You all have a room down the hall,” Saint says from the landing above us. “I can show you.”
The two girls race up the stairs, Giulietta protesting that Milena had a head start, while Jaspar follows more slowly.
“Hey! No running!” I call out, knowing that my words are going in one ear and out the other. With a shake of my head, I let my gaze move around the entire place again, taking in the light wood paneling that line the walls, and I make my way into the other rooms. Standing in a dining room, I admire the big windows, the modern looking light fixture above my head, and the polished hardwood floors. It’s modern and yet elegant and traditional. And so very Saint.
“You coming on the tour?” Through the open doorway, I can just about see Saint as he leans his forearms against the railing, looking down at me with that smirk of his.
“Uh, yeah, I guess.”
I climb the staircase slowly, still looking around myself, and when I get to the landing, Saint falls into step beside me, the warmth of his hand heating my lower back. “I figured you guys would want to be near each other. Emerald and I are on the other side. This floor is mainly bedrooms, so if you don’t want the ones I’ve picked out, you can pick out another.”
“Which is mine?” Milena asks in an eager tone.
“Yours is the last on the left, Giulietta’s is the one right before that, and Jaspar’s is the last on the right.”
They all take off toward their rooms, leaving me and Saint in the hallway.
“This is a lot,” I murmur.
“Is it? It’s just a house.” He shrugs.
“A house with how many bedrooms and bathrooms exactly?”
“Not sure. But enough that they can each have their own.”
“It’s gigantic!” Milena’s voice calls in a squeal, and I take a peek at it.
“I had them decorated and furnished for you,” Saint adds. “I didn’t have much time, but money makes things happen fast. If you want to do anything else to the rooms, just let me know, and I’ll arrange it.”
She squeals again, lifting her phone to take pictures. “You’re the best!”
“What’s this door?” Giulietta pipes up.
“That’s the bathroom,” Saint answers as we fill the doorway of Giulietta’s room.
“Look, Em!” Giulietta tugs at my hand, bringing me into the room more. “A real play table! And a tea set!”
Sure enough, there’s a pink table with a lacy tablecloth, plus four matching chairs. I can’t help myself from flashing a radiant smile at Saint. “That was nice of you.”
“It was the least I could do for them—for all of you...”
“This is a room fit for a princess,” I say, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable at the undertone in his voice. I just don’t get this man.
“Thanks for all this!” Milena trills as she joins us. Giulietta nods before rushing at us to hug Saint’s leg. “Thanks Mr. Saint!”
“Just Saint, kiddo.” He pats her head. “I’m glad you like it.”
“You trying to get two Fiorelli girls smitten with you?” I ask in a dry tone.
“Three.”
“Three?”
“Yeah, you as well.” His voice brushes my ear, and I shiver.
Remember, Em, this is all just fake…
“How about you, Jaspar? Let’s see your room?” I say. I push open the door and see a room which is a six-year-old kid’s dream. Especially one who likes puzzles and dinosaurs as much as Jaspar does. I can tell he’s still a little suspicious of Saint after the Lucky Charms incident, and he’s trying not to be excited, but the way his little body is vibrating tells me that he is.
“I hope it’s okay,” Saint tells him. “I know you like this stuff, so I had the decorators do something special.” They even got him a giant stuffed dinosaur which I know he’s going to love. “Settle in, and we’ll come get you in a bit.”
“What? What are we doing?” I ask Saint.
He smirks, tugging me down the hall. “I want to show you where you’ll be sleeping.”
“Oh?”
Saint nods and pushes open the sleek solid wood French doors. With a swift tug, he pulls me into the room, and my mouth drops open. The same wood paneling that lined the walls downstairs is here as well, and the large windows let in all the natural light possible. A big bed sits against one wall, with two nightstands on either side.
“This is wow,” I have to admit. My eyes roam around the rest of the space. There’s a long dresser, a full standing mirror, and two white velvet armchairs, but it’s the chessboard between those armchairs that gets my attention. It’s different from the board we normally play on. This one looks custom.
“You like it?”
“Yeah, it’s great.”
And the smile on his face makes my heart thunder in my chest as he closes the distance between us. I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“If you want to change anything, let me know.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Emerald, this is your room too.”
“Oh, and here I thought I’d be sleeping alone.”
“Not a chance, baby.”
My back hits the wall as he walks me backward, and it’s so easy to forget that he’s just playing a character.
“Get unpacked, and I’m going to go see about getting dinner. The staff is pretty barebones. A maid comes in each day to deal with the cleaning and laundry, and there’s a gardener, but no chef. But if you want one, let me know.”
I laugh. “Oh no. I’m a big girl. I can cook our meals.”
“Except tonight.”
“Sure.”
His lips ghost against my neck, and I forget how to speak or breathe for a second. The way he’s got my body so on edge with anticipation is concerning, but with him pressed against me and that smokey spice of him filling my nose, I don’t really care.
He steps back after pressing a lingering kiss against my lips. The cold eats up the heat of him, and he winks at me before leaving the room.
Once I’ve helped the kids unpack and put their things away, I do the same with my stuff. I have my own walk-in closet in Saint’s bedroom, and I hang up my clothes, including the dresses I stole while I was away and working for Winifred. They’re a tether to an old life I can’t give up yet. And Saint won’t need to come into my closet, so what Saint doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?
Once the takeout arrives, we all go down and sit around the large kitchen island. The conversation flows as everyone eats. Milena and Giulietta discuss whose room is better and how Milena is going to make some amazing mural on the wall with spray paint. Saint just laughs it off, easily joining in with everyone.
“So, what’s your room like, Em?” Milena asks.
“Oh, um, you know, very luxurious.” I shrug, shoveling some food into my mouth to avoid talking. I don’t want to talk about the bedroom arrangement, although the kids will see it soon enough.
After dinner, we let the kids run around and explore. It’s Friday night, so I let them stay up later than normal, soaking up being with them again and catching up on all their news.
Eventually, I manage to get Jaspar and Giulietta upstairs for their bath and bedtime.
Flipping off the switch to Giulietta’s room, I move out into the hall. With the exception of Milena, who’s gabbing away on her cell phone to a friend, the others are all tucked into bed and sleeping.
I walk back to his— our —bedroom and come to an abrupt halt and shriek. “ What’s going on ?”
Because staring back at me is not just Saint but also two other sets of piercing blue eyes.
“Meet Serial and Killer,” Saint replies in a casual tone.
I back away.
Slowly.
Never taking my eyes off any of them.
“ You never mentioned any of this .”
Serial edges toward me. “Didn’t I?” he drawls.
Killer eyes me up like a freaking piece of meat.
“You know you didn’t…”
He shrugs. “What can I say?”
“I have three words for you, Valentino. Lying. By. Omission.”
“I got the feeling that you wouldn’t have come here if you’d known about them.”
“ You think ?” I usually love animals, and I adored the dogs at Winifred's shop, but these dogs are something else altogether. Serial’s tongue is hanging out as he sizes me up and wonders if I’ll fit on his dinner plate. Killer looks like he’s ready to pounce in a spilt second if I make a wrong move. “You never said anything about having dogs. And especially nothing about having dogs called Serial and Killer who look like they want to devour me whole . And why on earth are you living with a couple of murderers ?”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little bit dramatic , Emerald? It’s just their names. They won’t harm you...unless…”
“Unless, what?”
“Unless you try something stupid.”
“Stupid?”
“Like running off again.” He crosses his arms and smirks at me. “They’re my guard dogs, and they’re going to keep an eye on you while you’re here.”
I’ve never considered myself a violent person, but there’s something about Saint Veneti that has me seeing red. Because as if his crazy fake fiancée plan isn’t bad enough, now he’s also going to put his dogs on me to make sure I don’t get up to anything I shouldn’t. I mean, he’s totally a control freak, and I wonder what the heck I’ve let myself in for with this man. Okay, maybe I am being a little dramatic over the dogs, but the way they keep looking at me and especially those names are making me slightly freak out. “Why couldn’t you have given them normal names?”
“Those were their names when I adopted them from the shelter, and I never got around to renaming them.”
He ushers them out of the bedroom. And as soon as the door is closed on them, I flop back onto the bed and heave a sigh of relief. I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink if they stayed in the room.
He sits on the edge of the bed looking at me. The hot path of his eyes raking over my body makes me shiver. “Care for a game of chess?”
“You want to play now ?” I say.
“Yeah, I do. I think we’ll be playing every night from now on.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” I prop myself up on my forearms. “And why’s that?”
“If I remember correctly, playing chess gets you all hot and bothered.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s winning that does that.”
“Pretty sure the same goes for me...”