Page 37 of Mafia and Gold Digger

I open my mouth to object but snap it shut again when I realize I haven’t got an answer for that one. Because deep down, I know she’s right. Lying by omission is lying. I’ve been lying for so long that it’s become second nature to me. I tell myself I do it because as a hitman, I need to keep my movements and actions concealed. But I know there’s more to it than that. And I know that my lying is also a way to keep people from getting too close to the real me.

She walks past me, but I grasp her arm to stop her from leaving. I don’t want her to go just yet. “What are you doing with Domenico?” I ask in a low voice.

“Nothing. He was just being pleasant.”

Pleasant, my ass.

I’m about to hand her book back to her when I decide to flick through it. “This guide looks pretty comprehensive,” I comment as I skim through the contents page. “I have to say I’m impressed that you’ve worked through all these stages. Chapter one, shock; chapter two, upset; chapter three, denial; chapter four, grief; chapter five, mourning?—”

“Nah, I just skipped straight to chapter eleven.”

My brow furrows as my gaze drops down to chapter eleven which is headed ‘Revenge and Retaliation.’

“Um, Emerald, it says under chapter eleven that this is a list of things you shouldavoid.”

She shrugs. “The book wouldn’t have mentioned revenge and retaliation if it really didn’t want you to go down that route.” Then a twinkle lights up her green eyes, making them even more luminous than normal.

“What?” I say, for some reason needing to know what she’s thinking.

She flicks her inky hair over her shoulder. “I got some cans of tuna, and I sewed bits of fish in the hems of all Ronnie’s pants before I gave back the spare key to his apartment.”

And I can’t help myself from laughing out loud. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? I rarely give a genuine smile or laugh, yet I’ve done both within the last five minutes and all because of this one girl.

“I’m also thinking about going around and burning down his house tomorrow while he’s at work,” she adds.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “Okay, Emerald, while I’m loving how you’re standing up for yourself, I’m one hundred and ten percent sure that the self-help guide didn’t intend you to become an arsonist.”

“Only kidding,” she giggles.

The sound of her laugh does something to me, and I’m about to say something when I notice her stiffen as she leans back against the wall.

And suddenly, things become awkward between us.

What the hell’s caused this sudden change?

She blinks at me. “I wish you would stop staring at me.”

I flick the ash from my cigarette. “Looking at someone hardly counts as staring. You seem like a pretty confident girl, so why are you suddenly so uncomfortable around me?”

“Who’s says I’m uncomfortable?”

I scoff softly and shake my head. “Do you always answer a question with a question? Or do you have something to hide?”

She shifts from one leg to another, and I can’t help my eyes running over her long legs and up to the hem of her short outfit.

“Does it have anything to do with thestolendress you’re wearing?”

A slight flush warms her cheeks, but she keeps her expression neutral. “What makes you think my dress is stolen? I do work, so I can afford to buy things.”

I give a slight smirk. “If you say so.”

She goes to walk past me to head back inside, and I catch her wrist to pull her toward me, using her surprise to angle her around so that her back’s pushed against the stucco wall of the casino.

I spin my body toward her and slam my free hand against the wall, trapping her between my muscular arms.

She presses as far back against the wall as she can.

But there’s nowhere for her to run to.

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