Page 115 of Mafia and Gold Digger

Collapsing onto his chest, I can’t find my voice. I reach up, brushing my fingers against his jawline. “You’re mine.” I pant.

“Yeah, Em, I’m yours.”

My body is tugged close to him, and we’re a tangle of sweaty limbs and silky sheets. His fingers drift through the strands of my hair, soothing me and lulling me to sleep. His lips press to my forehead, and I can feel my eyes droop.

“You’re utterly amazing, Em.”

I look at him, and the expression on his face makes my skin heat again, that ache within me returning anew.

He cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek.

I smile, lowering my head back down to his chest. And the steady yet elevated heartbeat of him beneath my cheek makes my smile grow wider.

This is where I belong. Right here. His fingers drift down my spine, up and down in a soothing rhythm. The sound of our breaths fill the space, and I’m almost certain he’s falling asleep beneath me.

“Marry me, Em.”

I blink, lifting up to look at him again.

“What?”

“Marry me.”

My brow furrows, and I look at him, trying to determine if he’s actually serious.

“For real. Marry me,” he repeats. “I’m not built for opening up, letting someone in, supporting them emotionally. You know that already.But you should also know that you’re the only woman for me, Emerald.”

I can’t help my smile and laugh. Of all the places to propose to someone, only Saint would do it after sex.

“Is that a good laugh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a good laugh.” I press his lips to mine, and my hands cup his face as I deepen the kiss for a second, my tongue sweeping into his mouth before pulling back. “Yeah. I’ll marry you.”

His lips spread into a smile, the genuine kind that has my body lighting up like a Christmas tree because I know I’m the only one who gets these smiles. “Good.”

And this is what it feels like. To be in love. To be wanted. To be seen. And nothing has ever felt so damn right like it does with Saint.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

SAINT

Emerald moving in with me made a liar out of me. I was trying to pretend that I wasn’t developing feelings. But everything about her is fucking perfect. Her quick mind, her sense of humor, and the way she can keep me on my toes or go blow to blow with me. I can’t wait to marry her. Which makes today all the worse.

The flat of my tongue runs over my teeth. It’s one thing to just forget. It’s another to be shown up by her goddamn ex.

I drag a hand through my hair and suck down a deep breath.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. A better partner—fiancé—would have known that today is Emerald’s birthday. Would have planned some romantic bullshit date and swept her off her feet.

But not me.

Nope.I’ve fucked up.

Instead of planning something to blow all her other birthdays out of the water, I’m stuck scrambling to find something, anything, to make it special. This isn’t how I operate. This isn’t like me. I’m the man who’s on top of everything, five or ten moves ahead of everyone else. I don’t get blindsided.

But that’s not what’s spiking my blood pressure. It’s the fact Ronnie fucking Mainetto is sending Emerald red roses and a honey-colored teddy bear on her birthday, while I didn’t even get her a card. What the hell is he doing sending her flowers anyway? And a fuckingteddy bear?Really?

Sure, they get on fine when they run into each other at the casino, but she said that whatever happened between them is water under the bridge. I glare at the vase on the kitchen counter where she put them after they were delivered. It’s a beautiful arrangement. But that’s not the point. The point is they’re from him, the man who tossed Emerald aside without even thinking about her feelings. The fucker who she was crying over in a parking lot, for fuck’s sake.

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