Page 106 of Mafia and Gold Digger

* * *

I’m working behind the bar when Saint arrives for a meeting with Christian.

“Whiskey, please,” he orders.

I give him a sparkling smile as I grab a glass and pour his whiskey—neat because that’s the way he prefers it.

“You going on a break today, Em?”

Before I can reply, a man sidles up to the bar. And my stomach plummets. Because he’s the last person I was expecting to see here.

“Well, well, Emerald. Didn’t expect to see you here.” A man’s leering gaze runs up and down my figure. “Nice dress. You’re doing well for yourself. But then I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

I can tell that Saint immediately recognizes the man in the cheap suit. He’s Enzo Hernandez, my mom’s boyfriend.

“Is there something you need?” I grit out. I’m restraining myself, trying not to make a scene.

I notice Saint’s fists tighten. He knows all about Enzo, and I know he’s had a guy on him, digging up every last detail of his life, including his string of failed businesses, his gambling habit, his drug addiction, and the string of women he kept on the go while leeching off my mom. I just thank God that my mom has seen sense and finally broken up with him.

“The news reached me about your engagement,” Enzo continues in his slimy voice. “I just wanted to offer my congratulations and tell you how happy I am for you. It’s quite an accomplishment for a girl like you, especially with the parents you have. But then I always knew a girl like you would go far.” He extends a limp hand toward Saint. “Enzo Hernandez.”

Saint looks at it with disdain, not even bothering to lower himself to touch his greasy skin. “I know who you are.”

“Great, great. Look, I’ve got an amazing chain of upmarket dance clubs. I’m sure a man as smart as you can see the investment opportunity they present.”

Saint’s lip curls. He knows about his sleazy strip clubs. About how they’re mortgaged to the hilt and barely worth the price of the tacky paper umbrellas he sticks in the stupid cocktails he sells.

He holds out a stained, dog-eared business card to Saint. “I’d love to talk with you sometime soon and show you how you could invest with me and quadruple your money within three months.”

“Yeah, I know all about your businesses,” Saint rumbles.

His chest puffs out.

“About how you exploit desperate underage girls to work in your clubs, and when they try to get out, you blackmail them with videos you’ve secretly taken of them with your customers, threatening to put them up on porn sites and send copies to their families.”

Enzo gives a nervous laugh. “Hey, the little bitches know what they were signing up for. And I can’t help it if the little sluts want to earn some extra money by offering their pussies and assholes to whoever will pay them.”

Saint snorts. “You’re forgetting to mention your guys who pimp them out to your customers and take a cut of the fee for your pocket.”

“It’s a good business model,” he slurs, clearly already wasted despite the early hour.

Saint’s hand twitches by his side. “Let’s get one thing clear, shall we, Enzo? I would never lower myself to do business with a man like you. Although ‘man’ is too generous of a word to describe someone like you.”

And when Enzo realizes Saint’s not interested, he swings his gaze back to me and his eyes narrow to slits. “Emerald always has a way of cozying up with rich men. So, how did she hook you? She probably uses the same tricks as her mom...”

I start to say something, determined to stand up for myself and not let him talk about me in such a way. “Enzo, you are disgusting and a complete creep. Why don’t you just?—"

But Enzo raises his voice to talk over me. “I bet she reeled you in by showing you a good time with her tight little pussy. Shame I never got to give it a go. I would have loved to have been the one to break her in. But then, I should have just offered to pay Emerald because everyone knows how much she loves money?—”

And Saint pulls his gun and makes the snap decision there and then to end his pathetic, measly life. Pop! Pop!

There’re gasps all around, murmurs of shocked whispers, and a shrill scream or two as I look down as the puddle of rapidly expanding red.

Christian comes running out from the back office, and taking one look at Saint and the scene around him, he gives him a ferocious scowl. “For fuck’s sake, Saint, couldn’t you have at least done it outside?”

But Saint merely smirks as he downs the rest of his drink.

People are looking at the scene as Christian barks orders into his cell for a clean-up crew. The Imperiosi’s cop contacts means the authorities will turn a blind eye to this. And I know killing is wrong, but I can’t help being glad that Enzo is no longer going to be around to cause issues for my family and me...

---