Page 20 of Mafia and Gold Digger

“But—”

I disconnect the call before he can say anything else that will annoy me. He’s lucky that Christian considers this girl as good as family, otherwise I’d be leaving her to take her chances with the Feds.

Thanks to the light traffic, I make it in no time to the subway station near the casino. Bringing up the Imperiosi background check on her, I scroll through the information on my phone.

The photograph of her shows a girl with inky black hair and wide green eyes. I read through some of the summary on her: Emerald Fiorelli; eighteen years old; daughter of Adagio Fiorelli and Ariana Fiorelli; lives at her mom’s apartment; and works part time at Casino Venice.

I click onto the photos of her home and scroll through the rooms which show nothing interesting until I reach the photographs taken inside her bedroom—and specifically the photo that shows her open closet door.

Because lined up in there are rows and rows of shiny dresses. And I can see the majority of them still have security tags attached.

Sitting in my car, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel while I keep a sharp eye out for the girl.

And soon enough, I catch sight of a woman who stands out from the crowd, hurrying up the steps from the station.

She’s got a stunning face, glossy black hair, and her beautiful, full curves are clad in a short and sparkly gold dress.

She matches the photo on the file, and I know that I found the woman I’ve been looking for…

Shaking my head, I come back to the present. I can still smell her scent in my car. It’s like chocolate mints—sweet and spicy at the same time.

She’s gone inside the casino and disappeared from view now. And I wonder why I’m still thinking about her. After all, it’s not as if I’m likely to ever see her again…

CHAPTERFOUR

EMERALD

I still feel jittery every time I think about when I was being arrested. Ornotbeing arrested—or whatever that thing was with that man, Saint Veneti.

I’m on my way home from work, and all too soon, the train reaches my station, and I begin the short walk home. Reaching our building, I find that I have to climb the stairs because the elevator is broken yet again.

When I reach our apartment and open the door, everything happens in slow motion.

The resoundingslapechoing around the dingy apartment.

The sound of my sister crying out.

His arm raised to repeat the motion.

And the snarl he sounds as he gets ready to hit her again.

My bag and keys plunge to the floor.

My heart is in my throat.

“Stop it!” I shriek, running across the room to where Milena’s cupping her cheek.

I shove myself between Enzo Hernandez and my sixteen-year-old sister. I can’t believe my mom got back together with him. He’s a creep and a total loser. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting him hit her again.

“Jaspar and Giulietta?” I ask Milena, my words rushing out in a breathless whoosh. “Are they safe?”Please, please let them be okay…

“In the bedroom,” Milena whispers.Thank God. I couldn’t bear for any more of them to be hurt or have to witness this sort of violence.

Enzo’s hand is still raised in the air, his lips curled in a sneer. He slowly lowers his arm and tugs his creased T-shirt down the front of him as he mutters something under his breath. “I’m going to get some beers,” he grunts to my mom before he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

I stare at it, my chest heaving with every breath I take. “You let him hit Milena?” I cry at my mom, spinning around to face her for a second before turning my attention again to my younger sister. She’s crying, and her cheek is red in the shape of a handprint. “She’s your daughter! What…what’s wrong with you?”

My mom stares at me, but she’s too high to think straight. Her brow puckers. “She said something he didn’t like, I think...”

---