Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
S AINT
A few days have passed, and I think I’ve managed to make things up to Emerald after forgetting her birthday.
I walk into my mansion, Leoluca and two captains following me. We have business to discuss, and I lead them to my office
But as I reach the doorway, I come to an abrupt halt. “What the fuck?” I mutter.
I steal a glance at the men and scowl at them as I see amusement dance across their expressions. “Don’t say a fucking word if you want to keep your balls attached to your bodies,” I hiss, but that doesn’t stop them from smirking.
My eyes widen into saucers as I stare at my tasteful, distinguished, book-lined office. Well, that’s what it used to be …
“ Emerald !” I holler from where I stand.
She appears a minute later, giving me a full-wattage smile and batting her eyelashes, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Yes, fluffy bunnykins?”
I glare at her. “What have you done with all my antique furniture? My art deco desk, bookcases, and all the other things?”
“Oh, right, those...” She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “I donated them to Goodwill.”
“ You. Did. What ?” My jaw drops down. “They were rare antiques.” My voice starts to rise. “Do you have any idea how long it took to source them and how much they cost?”
She shrugs. “I can guess.”
“I can’t believe you just gave them away, but even worse is what you’ve replaced them with!” As the men fail to hold back their snickers, I look with horror at the gold desk, fluffy pink chairs, fur-covered notebooks, and gold pens topped with unicorn heads. “ What the actual fuck, Emerald ?”
“Do you like it?” she trills at me.
“No, I don’t,” I rage. “It’s tacky, trashy, and a complete travesty of style!”
She’s holding the black Amex in her hand, tapping her gold-painted fingernail against it. And an awful thought crosses my mind. “How much, er, did this all cost exactly?”
“Only three million,” she replies in a singsong voice.
“Three million dollars?” I utter. “ For this awful shit ?” The men are falling about laughing now, not even trying to hide that they’re finding the whole situation fucking hilarious.
“The desk is plated with real gold,” she replies as if that justifies the outrageous price tag.
“Is this your idea of a joke, Emerald?”
“No, of course it isn’t. And you know, you did…want me as your fiancée.” Her voice breaks a little. “And I thought that you would like it and that you wouldn’t mind me spending your money.” Tears start to glimmer in her gaze.
And I suddenly start to feel bad. “Oh, Em, of course I don’t, um, mind you spending my money, and I, er, love what you’ve done with this space.”
“Really?” Her voice hitches a little as she tries to hold back her tears.
“Yes, really. You’re my fiancée, and you’ll soon be my wife. You mean the absolute world to me, and you can spend my money on whatever shit you want if it makes you happy.”
And then she throws her arms around my neck and gives me a long, lingering kiss.
* * *
After the men leave, Emerald comes to my office door. “Did I do okay, Saint?”
I burst out laughing. “You did great. Those captains will tell their families, and their wives are two of the biggest gossips in the Imperiosi. They’ll love to tell everyone what happened.”
Emerald nods. “I can hear them right now, saying you’re so madly in love with me that you let me spend millions of your money on utter trash. If this doesn’t start convincing people that our relationship is real, then I don’t know what will.”
“It will definitely convince them,” I tell her. “We just need to keep the charade up until I can find a way to get rid of Carmine once and for all. By the way, you didn’t really spend three million dollars, did you?”
“Nah, it was just a couple hundred bucks.”
“Good.” I cast an eye around me, and a frown puckers my forehead. “I know this was the plan, but I didn’t expect it to be quite, um, this bad. What on earth possessed you to choose these colors, Em?”
She tilts her head to one side as she gazes at me. “The gold is obviously because I’m a gold digger, duh.”
I groan. “Please tell me that you haven’t redone the rest of the house in this style...”
She looks at me like I’ve suddenly grown two heads. “Of course, I haven’t. Because then I’d have to look at it every day as well!” And she giggles in that glorious way of hers.
I shake my head as a smile spreads over my face. My plan is working, and if I have to put up with a gold and pink office for a while, then I’m willing to do it. Because I’ll do whatever it goddamn takes to keep Emerald safe.
* * *
We’re playing a game of chess. I love the game with Emerald. The back and forth. The chase. The exhilaration she’s brought into my life.
The small smile on her face has my chest tightening. Because when we play together, any ice between us thaws just a little more.
The board sits between us on the bed as we play. Emerald ponders her next move from where she lies on her side. The light from outside the small balcony illuminates her from behind. I try to keep my thoughts from wandering, but it’s no use.
Her smile grows as she takes my pawn, waving it in the air between us like a taunt.
“Careful. You don’t want to do that,” I warn.
“Oh, but I think I do, Valentino. I like knowing I’m beating you.”
My eyes drop from hers to the board, then back up. “Don’t get overconfident now. The game is still early.”
“Uh-huh.” She drops the piece into the small pile on her side of the board with a satisfied smile.
“Remind me again who normally wins?” I murmur.
Those green eyes glitter at me. “I’m getting better against you. You’ve had an unfair advantage since lying and stalking my online games, remember? So, shut up and move your piece.”
That warm feeling that’s been missing roars to life in my chest. This is what I need, whatever the fuck it is between Emerald and me. She shouldn’t be this addictive. She shouldn’t be this comforting. But she is. With anyone but Emerald, I’d have dropped the whole thing ages ago. But this woman somehow has a way that keeps drawing me back in.
“You gonna make a move or what?” she clips as I mull over the moves in my head, too distracted by her to really be thinking clearly and almost certain she’s going to win because of it. I look up at her and then back down at the board.
“Tick. Tock.”
“ Emerald .”
“ Valentino .”
“Don’t rush me. I can’t think if you keep talking.”
“Now, that’s a lie.” And she smiles that grin of hers that makes my whole body coil tight.
“Shut up, Em.”
“Make me.”
The words fly from her lips, and my gaze snaps up to hers. I can’t tell if it’s a taunting joke or serious. “You’re playing a very dangerous game right now,” I say in a low voice.
“If you don’t like me talking, then make me stop.”
It’s an invitation if I’ve ever heard one.
Her eyes observe me as if she’s trying to figure out what I’m going to do.
It’s the small subtle hitch of her breath. The way her chest rises and falls a little faster helps me decide before I stalk over to her and roll her under my body.
* * *
There’s a knock at the front door. I open it to find Christian standing on the doorstep. And his solemn expression instantly puts me on high alert.
The world is still for a fraction of a second when Christian informs us of what he’s come to tell us.
There was a shooting by a cartel member a couple of hours ago.
Ronnie was shot.
And he is dead.
I don’t really give a reaction. What am I supposed to say? It sucks, but that’s how these things go in our line of work. I didn’t like the guy much to begin with.
Emerald, though. Her reaction is painful. Tears start and quickly turn into a sob before she excuses herself and dashes up to our bedroom.
Three hours later, she still hasn’t appeared.
I knock on the door. “Emerald?”
No answer.
I open the door a creak, peering into the darkness. Emerald’s body is hidden under the bed covers, but I can hear the way she sniffs.
“Em?”
Again, no answer.
It’s concerning that she’s this distraught. Maybe it’s the first dead person since her father that she’s known personally. My brow crinkles as I step into the dark room.
“Em? Give me a sign you’re breathing here.”
She briefly lifts her head from the pillow. The mascara she’s wearing is smeared and her eyes are red.
I’m not sure how to be comforting or consoling. “These…things, um, happen, Em.”
A small sound leaves her before she looks away again.
“Em…” I move to reach for her.
“I just want to be alone for a while please.” Her voice is soft.
My hand freezes midway, dropping to the bed between us. “Right.”
I move away from the bed. Why is she acting like this? They were friends, but she swore it was just friends and nothing more... “Are you going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry, thanks.”
The progress we’ve made feels like it’s stalling. That birthday cake. The necklace. The card that took me fucking hours to write. And everything in between it—dates, late night conversations as we play chess, telling her about my life before.
I close the door behind me without another look back.
“Milena?” I knock on her door. “I’m going out for a bit. Pizza is on the way.”
My steps are heavy as I turn down the hall, jog the steps, and go out the door before I even hear her respond.
I need out. I need air .
This isn’t a normal response to someone dying. Sure, a bit of upset when you hear the news. But crying for a few hours? It’s like she’s shutting down completely. I don’t understand emotions that well, but that’s what you do when you…love someone.
I check my phone before sliding into the SUV. I need a distraction, and luckily for me, one just landed in my lap.
The sound of Emerald’s sob haunts me even in the car. The music blasting through the speakers doesn’t come close to drowning it out. My hands tighten around the steering wheel. Every muscle tenses. I want to help her, to give her the time she needs to grieve, but I can’t help that ugly feeling in my chest. The one that keeps telling me this isn’t a normal reaction to your friend dying.
She’s acting like the love of her life just died.
The thought is like a wave of cold water hitting me. Of course. Of fucking course.
I circle the building on the industrial estate, scoping out my newest target. Again and again, I circle, unable to clear my head enough to actually do what the fuck I came to do.
I should be looking for the exit strategy. I should be planning my move. I should be focusing on how I’m going to get the information I need from the bodies that no doubt fill the space.
My eyes narrow. Knuckles whiten more. I grip the leather wheel harder, hearing it creak under the strain.
“Fuck!” I slam my hand against the steering wheel edge.
But I know I need to get a handle on myself. Be controlled, calm, collected. Be indifferent and aloof. Because without those things, I’m as good as dead. And I have to remind myself that Veneti men are strong—unfeeling and ruthless.
I repeat it in my head like a mantra. Like that will quiet the beast bubbling in my chest that wants me to turn around and confront Emerald.
My teeth grind harder, and it’s a miracle I haven’t cracked a molar.
Of course, she was still in love with him. He sent her happy birthday cards and didn’t struggle to write them. He made her laugh without much effort whenever they bumped into each other at the casino. He and she talked still about everything under the sun. He let her in. He was emotionally available, and now, he’s gone.
A bitter part of me is glad. Glad that Ronnie is out the picture, and I didn’t have to dirty my hands to make it happen. Glad he can’t steal Emerald away from me anymore.
I park the SUV, trying to focus on the building. Trying to do my damn job. Pushing all those thoughts behind me and back into the goddamn box where they belong. I take a deep breath, clearing my mind.
There are two exits, and about four yards between the warehouses. Not enough cover.
I roll the sleeves of my dress shirt up before I open the SUV door, hands shoved into my pockets as I walk up to the building.
This is the distraction I need. This is just the thing to get me back to the man I need to be to survive this world.
Thirty minutes later, I’m hardly paying attention as the man pleads beneath the barrel of my gun. The warehouse is filled with bodies now. Not all dead but certainly worse for wear.
I keep thinking about how Emerald still loves him. He’s dead, and she still loves him.
She said she loved me, but I know she won’t ever love me like that.
How can she? She built a relationship with Ronnie. They had an easy back and forth. But me? Emerald only knows what I want her to know about me. It’s the briefest hint of my life. And that’s it. That’s got to be enough.
But it’s not.
How can it be? She needs someone who isn’t cold, isn’t emotionless, isn’t missing a heart.
Emerald clearly needs more than what I can give her. Wants more than I can offer her.
But I’m too far gone, and there’s nothing in this world that’s going to take her away from me now.
Fuck emotions.
Fuck that special connection she had with Ronnie.
She knew the man I was when she agreed to marry me.
She knew what I offered.
I fire off a round above us in warning. “Answer the fucking question. I’m running out of patience, and that’s a pretty bad thing for you right now.” I’m not in the fucking mood for this. I’m not in the mood to listen to a grown man blubber about God and forgiveness. They’re not even high up in their organization. They’re lowly foot soldiers, and no one will miss them if they end up is some shallow grave. “Tell me who paid you twice the normal fucking fee. And where they got the money?”
“I-I…” He stutters as I shove him hard with my boot pressed to his chest. “I don’t know. We never saw his face!”
“Well, find out!”
The man scrambles up, and I let him. So much for a nice easy distraction, for trying to cool off before I get back to the house to watch Emerald wither away, knowing there’s nothing I can do to help her or stop this.
She wears my ring, but her heart isn’t mine.
And it never will be.
“Fuck!” I kick the table with a growl, the money they were counting scattering all over the floor. My chest heaves and puffs, and I know I look like a wild man. I am. Emerald goddamn Fiorelli makes me this. She broke me and ruined me.
Worse yet, I let her. I let her, knowing that what she and I have was never going to go any deeper than what it is now.
The SUV door slams behind me as I rev the engine.
But I can’t go back like this. I can’t face her knowing that I have her in every way that should count. Except the one I want—the one I’m not capable of getting.