Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
E MERALD
The next morning, my legs stretch out behind me as I lay across the rug in Saint’s spacious lounge. The board game sits between me and the kids. Jaspar’s eyeing the board like he’s planning a hostile takeover while Giulietta’s organizing her cards in that particular way she does. Milena is draped over the couch on her phone like the typical teenager she is.
My heart clenches at seeing them all. So free. So relaxed. Thank God that they don’t realize the full extent of the danger that’s lurking .
It’s just great to be spending time with them, and given it’s the weekend, I’ve got two whole days to catch up with them all.
Serial and Killer are in the library with the door to the rest of the house closed. The French doors in there have been left open though, giving them free rein to come and go from the large backyard. The thought of them so nearby has me on edge.
The kids, however, have already seen the dogs since the top pane of the library’s door is clear glass. “Em, when can we play with the puppies?” Jaspar asks for the twentieth time.
“I told you, Jaspar, they’re not puppies. And they’re not dogs for playing with. They’re Saint’s guard dogs.”
* * *
In the afternoon, Saint gives me a quick call. “Look, Emerald, I’m sorry about this, but I need to go away for a few days. Work stuff. But I’ve made arrangements for the security to be doubled, and you’re absolutely safe at my mansion with my men protecting you and the kids.”
My mouth drops slightly. “What about the dogs?” I wail, not knowing what else to say—because there’s no way that I’m admitting that I might be just the slightest bit disappointed that he’s not going to be here with me.
“I’ll get one of my guys to feed them and take them for walks. They love hanging around with my men, so they won’t get lonely.”
But it’s not the dogs getting lonely that I’m worried about…
After the phone call, I sit on the couch with my arms crossed.
“Em, can we play with the puppies now?” Giulietta asks.
“Sorry, honey, like I said, they’re guard dogs.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t play with them too,” Giulietta says with a pout. “They look cute and fluffy.”
Cute and fluffy ? Um, I don’t think so .
“What are their names?” Jaspar asks.
“They’re called, er…” But how do I tell the kids that the dogs are called Serial and Killer? I don’t want the names to totally freak them out in the same way that happened to me. “I’m not sure what their names are,” I say in a weak voice, crossing my fingers behind my back.
“They haven’t got names yet,” Giulietta announces. “That means we can name them ourselves!”
“Oh, I’m not sure?—”
But before I can finish, Jaspar squeals in excitement and drowns my voice out. “Let’s go and look at the puppies again, and then we can decide what names will suit them!” And Jaspar starts dragging Giulietta and me by the hand to look at the dogs through the door’s glass.
Arriving outside the library, we stay in the hallway while the kids stand on tiptoes and press their little noses up against the pane of glass. I find myself standing back a little, still wary of the animals despite the physical barrier. The dogs’ bright blue eyes are intense against their black and white fur, and at a guess, I’d say they are Huskies.
“I’m having one puppy, and you can have the other one,” Jaspar tells his sister. “And I’m calling mine Pumpkin.”
“And mine’s called Poochie,” Giulietta announces, making her mind up.
“Pumpkin and Poochie,” I say weakly. But at least those names sound way less terrifying than Serial and Killer.
* * *
A few days later, Saint returns from his murdering trip or whatever it is that he had to do. Walking in, Giulietta is all smiles when she sees him. It’s time for dinner, so we all sit down around the kitchen island for the spaghetti and meatballs I made.
After dinner, Saint heads toward the library.
“Are you taking the puppies for a walk?” Jaspar asks.
Saint grins when he hears his huge guard dogs being described as puppies. “Sure am. Do you guys want to come?”
Jaspar and Giulietta nod enthusiastically and trail after him, as do I.
He walks into the library but seeing the dogs aren’t there, he knows they must already be in the backyard. He stands by the open French doors and calls out. “Serial, Killer!”
No response.
“Serial? Killer?”
Not a single woof or bark comes in response.
“Serial, Killer! Where are you?” He drags a hand through his hair. “That’s weird,” he mutters. “They’re well-trained and always come when I call them.”
Giulietta giggles. “You’re calling out wrong. That’s why they’re not coming.”
A frown creases his brow. “What do you mean?”
Giulietta and Jaspar stand next to him and call out to the dogs. “Pumpkin! Poochie! Time for snuggle wuggles!”
We hear the pounding of paws, and within seconds, they come dashing in from the backyard, their tongues lolling and blue eyes shining with excitement. Laughter bubbles out of the children as the animals nearly knock them over in their eagerness, tails wagging at a furious speed and woofing away with enthusiasm at the prospect of snuggle time.
“ Pumpkin ? Poochie ? Snuggle wuggles ? What the hell, Emerald?” Saint grits out.
“You’re such a liar , Valentino,” I say. “They aren’t guard dogs. These two are just two big furbabies, and they wouldn’t harm a fly. Isn’t that right, my fluffy boys?” I ask as I crouch down to their level and speak to them in that special cooing voice I use just for them.
Their fur is cool from the crisp air outside, and they nuzzle against me, pushing their heads into my hands. I rub behind their ears, feeling the velvety softness of their luxurious thick coats. They let out cute, happy sounds, leaning into me with their full weight as if they can't get close enough. Pumpkin flops onto his back, paws curled, begging for belly rubs, while Poochie nuzzles my cheek with his soft snout, demanding attention of his own.
“ Furbabies ? Your fluffy boys ?” Saint croaks.
I arch an eyebrow at him. “You sound jealous.”
“How the hell have you managed to charm them in just a few days?” he demands in an irritated tone.
I tilt my head to one side, and my brow puckers. “I’m a pretty likeable person in case you haven’t noticed.”
“But why do they seem to like you more now than they like me?” he wails.
“Obviously, it’s because I’m utterly awesome, and they’re amazing judges of character,” I say with a beaming smile at Saint.
“I’m a fucking hitman, Emerald. I can’t have dogs called goddamn Pumpkin and Poochie!”
A frown tugs at my brow. “Look, I couldn’t bring myself to tell the kids that they were called Serial and Killer, could I? The kids would have been utterly terrified of them. Plus, it only took a couple of days and a few treats to realize that these two are just complete softies.”
Giulietta runs up to us. “Do you like the names we gave your puppies, Mr. Saint?” Her big eyes look up at him with childish innocence.
“They’re, uh, the…best names I’ve ever heard,” he croaks.
And I can’t help throwing my arms around his neck and giving him a kiss which surprises the hell out of him. “What was that for, Emerald?”
“For being so kind to the kids,” I whisper with a grin. “I really appreciate it.”
And although he huffs, I can see he’s a little bit pleased at my words, and they’re even enough to wipe the grumpy expression off his face for once. And I can’t help but smile to myself. Because although I won’t say it out loud, I’m actually really happy that he’s back home with us.