Page 123 of Mafia and Gold Digger

“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.

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