Page 46 of Mafia and Gold Digger

“What happened?” Saint asks.

“It was, um, nothing.” I don’t want to admit what he said to me or tried to do. It’s just too humiliating. First Enzo and now Calcedonio. My dad taught me how to shoot a gun, and I’m so freaking thankful for that right now. I’m pretty good at it, and I practice my skills from time to time at the shooting range. When Anni Marchiano—Christian’s sister—is in town, we often go and practice together because she’s a good shot as well. Although, I don’t think her arranged husband was exactly thrilled when he discovered what she could do with a gun.

“You’re a bad liar, Emerald. You don’t shoot someone for no reason.”

I go to walk away. I know I’m hopeless at telling lies, but I just can’t talk about how Calcedonio thought I was a whore.

“Wait!” He catches my arm. “What’s wrong with your dress?” He skims his thumb over a rip on the sleeve of my dress, a shiver rippling through me as he touches my bare skin. “Did Calcedonio do this?”

I avert my gaze from him, hoping he won’t see the truth in my eyes. “No.” It’s totally embarrassing admitting that men see me as an easy target because of my family name.

He clenches his jaw.

“I took care of it and got away from him,” I say quickly.

“What exactly did he say to you?”

The silence beats between us, and I can tell he’s not going to leave it alone until he gets an answer from me. “He called me a whore.” I flick my hair over my shoulder, trying to appear strong, although I’m actually pretty shaken.

His eyes narrow. “And then the fucker put his filthy hands on you?”

I press my lips together and don’t answer, but the look on my face must give me away.

Before I can say anything else, he strides off.

I follow him. “You don’t need to say anything to him.” I speak quickly. “I’ve made sure he won’t ever try anything like that again on me…”

But as soon as we’re back outside, his eyes zero in on Calcedonio who’s clutching his injured hand and talking with his brother, anger evident on his face.

My gaze darts around, trying to find Christian, because I have a bad feeling that Saint is about to show his volatile side.

But Christian’s nowhere to be seen. Shit.

And without another word, Saint charges toward Calcedonio and punches him in the face. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on Emerald ever again!”

“I don’t know why you’re defending her,” Calcedonio splutters as he staggers backward. “So what if I tried to get in her panties? Emerald Fiorelli is nothing but a stupid slut just like her ma.”

Saint raises his gun. Pop! Pop!

But one of Calcedonio’s soldiers gets in the way and gets hit instead, falling back into the pool with a strangled sound and clutching at his neck.

Women start screaming. The men automatically reach for their weapons.

Calcedonio charges at Saint, but Saint punches him again and shoves him into the pool.

Calcedonio grabs him as he falls, pulling Saint into the pool with him with a huge splash.

Gasps and shrieks sound all around us. I’m rooted to the spot as I watch the men fight as they grapple with each other in the water, throwing punches wherever they can.

But Saint has the advantage. He’s not drunk, not injured, plus he’s a better fighter. And he quickly beats Calcedonio into submission. And then he pulls a knife out and stabs him.

There are more strangled screams from the women in the crowd. But all I can do is stand there open-mouthed at the scene in front of me.

Eventually, Saint hauls himself out of the pool, leaving the two lifeless forms in there. Blood is pouring out of them both, making the pool turn into a sea of red around them.

Saint straightens his soaking suit as he strides past me.

Christian comes sprinting out of the mansion with his gun drawn. “What the hell’s going on?” And seeing Saint dripping water everywhere as his expensive handmade shoes squelch with every step he takes, he glares at him. “You choose now to go for a fucking swim, Saint?”

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