Page 152 of Mafia and Gold Digger

“Just ask around for me.”

“Saint, I think?—”

“When I know more, I’ll let you know.” I cut her off before hanging up. Another clipped sigh pushes past my lips, and I turn toward the pot of coffee.

Dropping onto a stool, I stare at the dark liquid. The tightness in my chest is uncomfortable and difficult to breathe past. I’m not used to this feeling. Because I’ve never experienced a feeling like this before.

No, that’s a lie.

I have experienced this feeling before.

But it was when I was five years old. And it was the one and only time I allowed myself to feel loss.

Loss.

My grasp tightens around my phone, and the damaged screen cracks further with the force.

This isn’t me. This visceral reaction I’m having to Emerald being in the wind once more makes me feel sick. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to think.

I can check the usual places. Make some phone calls and find out if she’s stopped by the casino. I can have contacts keep an eye out for her. I can check in that small town she fled to before and with that old lady, Winifred, she was working for.

That’s how I’ll start.

Because I’m going to find her if it’s the last damn thing I do.

* * *

It’s the next day., and the guards nod at me as I walk up to the mansion belonging to Jacquetta’s family. After knocking and waiting a few moments, the door is opened by a woman who’s obviously the housekeeper.

“I’m here to see Jacquetta.”

“Sir, she’s out right now. She had to run an errand, but she said she’d only be gone thirty minutes, so she’ll be back soon.”

I hear childish squeals in the background. “Never mind. I’m just here to get the kids.”

She frowns at me. “Miss Jacquetta didn’t say anything about this.”

“Mr. Saint!” Giulietta’s voice rings out behind her. She’s dressed in a pink tutu over her dress, and there’s a bucket load of glitter in her hair. But she looks happy. Jaspar’s head, also covered in glitter, appears with a smile and wave.

“Hey, I’m here to take you guys home.”

The housekeeper narrows her eyes, putting herself between me and the kids.

I bite back a growl as I level my gaze on her.

“Who are you, exactly?” she says with a glare at me.

“I’m…” but how do I explain who I am to these kids?

“This is Mr. Saint,” Giulietta says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world as she snatches my hand into her tiny warm grasp. And at that small touch from her, my heart does that pathetic little thump.

“I can’t just let you take the kids,” the housekeeper announces. “Nobody mentioned anything about this. Is Miss Emerald in the car or something?”

“No. She’s still…away. She asked me to get the kids on my way home.” I lie, watching as Giulietta quickly packs her things into her backpack before directing Jaspar to do the same as if she’s the boss.

She folds her arms across her chest. “Not until I hear from Miss Emerald.”

“They’remine.”

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