Page 6 of Mafia and Gold Digger

I try to not think about the rumor I’ve heard. Because it’s just that. A rumor. Probably started by someone trying to stir up trouble for me. He wouldn’t cheat on me, right? If he did lie and cheat, I would ditch him so fast, but I’m pretty certain that he would never do something like that to me because as well as being my boyfriend, he’s also my best friend. After admiring the flowers again, I grab my cell and send him a text.

Emerald: The flowers are gorgeous. I love them.

Ronnie: Anything for you, baby. Aren’t you still at work?

Emerald: Had to come home for a Mom emergency.

Ronnie: If you’re free, we have a meeting in the back room at the casino at 5 p.m. and need another cocktail waitress?

Emerald: For sure! I need the extra work after having to drop today’s shift. I’ll see you there xxx

When my mom is like this, I know she’ll fall asleep soon and sleep it off, leaving me free to work another shift. After putting the blooms in water and gazing at them one more time, I know I have to get a move on if I don’t want to be late, but I decide to change my dress because I want to look my absolute best if I’m seeing Ronnie.

One of the things I like about working at Casino Venice is that staff can wear their own clothes as long as it fits the employee dress code of ‘smart and stylish.’

My feet move on autopilot as I head for my closet. I stand before all the sparkly dresses in front of me, my gold-tipped nails running along the fabrics as I weigh my options. And my eyes rest on the security tags still attached…

It’s something I hate about myself, and honestly, I’m deeply ashamed about it all and really wish I could stop. I’ve tried to stop so many times, and I know I have serious issues. I look at the dresses before me and think that if I’m in these shiny dresses, it allows me to look the part of being worth something and makes it a little bit easier to blend in despite everything that’s happened.Although that’s not the real reason I have them…

And I pick out one of my favorites—a gold dress that clings to my curves like a second skin and stops mid-thigh. Although it’s notgoldexactly because the sales ticket describes it asChampagne Mist. This dress, along with all the other ones I have in a similar shade, aren’t plain gold. No, they’re all called something more unique and special.

Stepping into the dress and zipping myself up, I get ready as quickly as I can, adding my work badge that says ‘Casino Venice’ in a curling gold script.

Running a hairbrush through my glossy black mane and adding a slick of mascara around my green eyes, I calculate in my head how much I’ll earn this afternoon and how much closer it’ll bring me to making this month’s utilities and food bills.

Before I leave, I take the coffee into my mom’s bedroom and leave it on her nightstand, where I know that it’ll more than likely grow cold and be left untouched. But I’m not going to let my mom’s issues spoil my mood today.

I take the train and climb the steps out of the station. I’ve never gotten anything on Valentine’s Day before, and my good mood means I’m practically bouncing along in my black Balenciaga boots—a gift from Ronnie.

And I carry on in my little bubble of bliss, daydreaming and away in my own world.

Not realizing that I’m about to get stopped by the authorities.

And hauled down to the station.

Because I’m working for my mobster boyfriend’s family…

CHAPTERTWO

EMERALD

I smooth down my sparkly dress as I walk. People always ask me why I like the color gold so much. The answer’s simple. It’s because it reminds me of sunshine. Of happiness. And of staying positive. Because with all the issues in my life, if I can remain optimistic, then I definitely feel a little better about myself and everything else.

I’m lost in my thoughts when a black SUV appears to my right.

The first thing I notice is the silence. No screech of tires, no honk—just the nearly soundless glide of a vehicle sliding up beside me. Expensive. Predator-smooth. The kind of thing that doesn’t need to make noise to be dangerous.

I try to glance at it out of the corner of my eye to see if I can make out who’s in the car. But the tint on the windows is too dark.

The expensive engine stays practically silent in the still summer air as it creeps beside me. Goosebumps erupt on my arms. I walk quicker as the vehicle prowls along and matches my walking pace.

I keep my eyes straight ahead, but my heart hammers in my chest. Is someone stalking me? Or is it a cop looking to bust me? Or even worse, a Fed…?

These thoughts utterly terrify me.

My sweaty palm gently presses against my body to make sure that my dress is still all in place, cringing as my fingers meet hard plastic. The security tag.

I spin on my heel and take a sharp left down a narrow side street.

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