Page 149 of Mafia and Gold Digger

But then I feel it.

And I jump out of my skin as a huge hand seizes my arm in a vice-like hold.

I scream out.

But not a single sound passes my lips. Because fear has stolen my voice and run away with it.

I whirl around, my eyes wide and trying to focus on the man before me as my vision blurs.

And he’s right there, too close, his grip tightening. “Keep quiet, or someone will get hurt,” he snarls as he starts to drag me out of the store.

Panic surges through me like a flood.

“Let go of me!” I scream, finding my voice and ignoring his words. My voice is high and cracking.

A security guard shouts out. “Hey!” And from somewhere behind us, I hear his sharp voice of authority. “Step away from her.Now.”

“She’s just my girlfriend,” the creep says smoothly. “We had an argument, and I’m just trying to say sorry to her.”

“That’s not true,” I say in a loud voice. “You know I, er, have a restraining order against you. Get away from me. Or I’m, um, calling the cops…” I cross my fingers behind my back, knowing that my lie doesn’t sound convincing.

The security guard is tall, uniformed, and has a walkie-talkie crackling at his hip. He lasers me with an assessing look, like he’s not sure who is telling the truth here. But then he nods at me and turns to Carmine’s goon. “You need to leave right now, or we’ll have to call the police,” he growls at him.

The goon lets go of me instantly and tries to melt away like it’s all been a misunderstanding, no doubt to bide his time until he can try again.

But the guard is already towering above him. “You need to leave the entire mall. I’m banning you for the next twenty-eight days.”

Another security guard arrives and starts to escort the goon away. He tries to protest, but the guard clamps onto his arm and leads him out, nodding to the store assistant on the way.

I stand there, frozen, until he’s gone.

“Don’t worry, miss,” the first guard reassures me. “He’s gone now. My sister had to get a restraining order against her ex, but the scumbag still tries to contact her all the time.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?” he asks more gently.

I nod, but my voice is buried somewhere under the fear and adrenaline.

“Yes,” I finally manage. “I think I am now.” I sink onto a small bench by the dressing rooms, heart still hammering.

The security guard approaches me again a few minutes later. “He has been escorted out of the mall.”

I nod again, thanking him and exiting the store.

I was supposed to stay at the hotel tonight, but I know I’ll be safer staying in the mall. It’s a twenty-four hour one, so there’s always shoppers and security guards around. I can get a cab to the airport later. That’s a safer plan than staying in a hotel tonight—because right now, the thought of being all alone in a hotel room utterly terrifies me. What about if one of Carmine’s thugs tries to slip into the hotel room while I sleep? All they would have to do is get their hands on a key used by the housekeeping staff. My blood runs cold at the very thought. No, I’m just going to stay at the mall and then mill around the airport—that’s a much better plan.

My hands shake as I slip into another fancy boutique. I can feel the eyes of the sale assistants on me and offer a polite smile, hoping I don’t look like the mess I feel.

I browse the racks, my fingers skimming the silky fabrics. They’re pretty dresses. Expensive and luxurious. Just the kind of thing that I like.

Licking my lips, I hurry toward another rack, then another.

There are cameras. Assistants. Security.

The incident with Carmine’s goon has knocked me off kilter. That and everything else going on with Saint. Because Saint has pushed me to feel out of control and spiral like this. He came into my life and screwed it all up with his sexy smirk and pretty lies.

But for once, I’m not going to steal.

I’m trying to move past that now, going to the therapy group and trying to get my life back on track.

Because I want to be inpropercontrol of myself. Haverealcontrol of my actions. Of my whole damn life for just one second. Where Saint or someone else doesn’t get a say in how I feel.And stealing isn’t going to give me that.The onesie theft showed me that—because after the brief high dissipated, I felt the worst shame I’ve ever felt.

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