Page 142 of Mafia and Gold Digger

Because I couldn’t do the one decent thing in this world. Because I couldn’t tell her what she means to me.

But to do right by her, I have to be honest with her—and I don’t think I’m capable of loving her how she deserves. How theybothdeserve.

My head lifts to the empty house as I cup the back of my head.

I deserve to feel like this. I know it. This feeling shredding up my insides is something I haven’t felt in decades. But I deserve this.

“Fuck…” My head bows once more. Anger boils up inside me, pushing past the guilt and the remorse. It’s hot and molten as it licks through my veins. How the hell didn’t I notice? Why didn’t she tell me? Is it so terrible to think that I could be… But I cut that thought off before it can fully form and push it from my mind.

It’s dark now, and if I know Emerald, she’s not coming home anytime soon. A fact that only makes that beast in my chest roar.

My eyes land on the vase of roses sent by a friend of Emerald’s who couldn’t make the wedding. Fuckingred roses.

I stomp over to them, my lip curling at the corner as I stare at the delicate petals. Without a thought, I hurl the vase, flowers and all, into the door, listening to the glass shatter.

Fuck!

My hand curls at my side, muscles tense. Something tangled and twisted, akin to sorrow maybe, surges up as I stare at the shattered glass and the puddle of water.

How the hell did it get like this?

How did I fuck it up so bad in such a short amount of time?

Of all the people to make me feel like this—unstable, uncertain, and out of control—it had to be Emerald Fiorelli. She’s the only goddamn person who’s managed to get this far under my skin, and she’s like a beautiful thorn I can’t get out.

My chest heaves, and my frustrated pants fill the space.

I hate this.

I hate how far I’ve let her in. How bothered I am about this—about her.

I spare a glance at the clock on the side table, and my anger comes back tenfold. Where in God’s name is she going at this time of night? Is she even coming back?

And that last thought brings a dread that sucker punches me, and my anger uses it as fuel. Hotter and hotter, it burns.

This is my fault.

This is my doing.

Emerald is running away yet again, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop her this time. No sham of a proposal to get her to be with me. No promise of being better. No pretty words. Nothing.

I inhale deeply before hissing out a breath. Again and again until the quiet calm takes over—the unnerving kind of calm that comes when I reign in my emotions…

CHAPTERFORTY-TWO

EMERALD

I pour my heart out to Jacquetta, my entire body hollow and empty.

Why did I want him to come storming down those stairs, following me to tell me everything was going to be okay?

Because I fell in love with a man who can’t love me back.

And I feel a fresh wave of tears in my throat as Jacquetta hands me another tissue. Milena, Jaspar, and Giulietta are downstairs, doing God knows what with Jacquetta’s family and Christian, giving us time to talk.

The ruined wedding dress I showed up in hours ago is draped against a chair, mocking me.

“I…” But I can’t get the words out. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t care that this is how it all came crashing down. Because deep down in the back of my mind, I knew it would. “He found out.”

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