Page 148 of Mafia and Gold Digger

We’re not done, not by a long shot.His words rattle around in my brain until I squeeze my eyes shut. We are. We are done. There’s nothing left of what we could have been.

“Miss?”

I open my eyes and realize the cab’s stopped. “Right. Sorry.” I dig through my purse and pay him.

I step out into the frigid air, wheeling my small case behind me. The outlet mall is still bustling and brimming with shoppers. I take a deep inhale, pulling my jacket a little tighter around me.

I pick a store at random to browse in. After walking around both floors and looking at some beautiful crockery, I step out of the store and wonder which one I should go in next. People are strolling around, browsing, sipping coffees, and laughing softly. I should feel at ease.

But I don’t.

There's this... prickling on the back of my neck.

A weird sensation like I’m being watched.

I throw a casual glance over my shoulder. A man stands a few stores down. Dark jacket, dark pants, hands in his pockets.

He could be waiting for someone. It’s totally normal.

I shake it off and walk on.

After a few more stores, I dart into a gift boutique, pretending to examine a display of candles. The sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon is almost overwhelming, but I welcome the distraction. After a few minutes, I peek through the glass storefront.

But he is still there.

Leaning against the railing outside. Still waiting. Still watching.

And I know that’s definitely not normal. My heart gives a stutter. Why the hell did I think I’d be okay for one evening without Saint’s bodyguards?Crap,crap,crap.

A bead of sweat rolls down my spine. He has to be one of Carmine’s men. They’ve finally caught me by myself. And now they’re going to grab me.Oh shit!

I pretend to look around for another minute before slipping out the side entrance and cutting through to the opposite side of the courtyard. I duck into a boutique selling athletic wear, heart pounding much harder now. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe I’m being paranoid...

My hands shake as I hover near a rack of leggings, watching the entrance through the mirror above the checkout counter.

The bell chimes.

He enters. Slowly.

My stomach flips, bile rising in the back of my throat.

He doesn’t even look at the clothes—just scans the store like he’s searching for something. For someone.For me.

I crouch down on unsteady legs and pretend to look at socks.

I clench and unclench my fists, trying in vain to stop the shaking. Okay, Em, deep breath…

I dart across the aisles and rush out the other door, speed-walking now but trying to look normal. I don’t want to cause a scene. I don’t want to overreact. But every instinct in my body is screaming at me to get out of here.

I spot a small store across the path—lace dresses and pastel handbags in the window. I push through the door and try to calm my breathing. A young woman behind the counter gives me a polite smile. I nod, wiping my sweaty palms against my outfit, then head toward the back, crouching behind a rack of long skirts.

The door chimes again.

I don’t even need to look.

He’s here.

My breaths are coming in shallow pants now. And I really feel like I’m going to vomit. I fumble with my phone, hands shaking too much to type in my passcode right away. I finally get it open. And I swipe to the dial pad to call for help.

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