Page 66 of Mafia and Gold Digger

Because even though Saint can easily afford a few million bucks for a ring, something inside me makes it difficult to waste so much money on such a superficial item. I know that’s rich coming from me, what with my shallow need to constantly steal beautiful dresses, but at least I know that the two point five million will be going to a deserving cause.

I would have mentioned this all to Saint when we were alone, but he was already so mad that I thought it wise not to mention anything else about the ring.

Instead, I think with satisfaction about how much the single moms’ shelter is going to be able to do with my donation to them. They mentioned when I rang them earlier that they’ll finally be able to purchase a much-needed additional shelter, convert it to meet their needs, and fund the operational costs for a good while. The cost of any sort of real estate in New York is astronomical, but the charity desperately needs another location in the city, and I give a sigh of contentment as I think about what good the money will achieve.

I sigh as I think how we really need this fake fiancée plan to work. Because with the danger looming from Carmine, there’s absolutely no room for failure...

CHAPTERTWENTY

EMERALD

The schools are right next to each other, and when we arrive to pick them up, I can’t help but grin like a maniac at the way the kids leap all over me. Even Milena gives me a tight hug. God, I’ve missed them so much, and I’m just so glad that they’re okay.

Once we’re back in his SUV, I explain to the kids that we’re going to be moving in with Saint for a while.

“What about the apartment?” Jaspar asks.

“Well, you see, um, Saint and I are, er, getting married.”

Milena looks surprised, but I just smile at her. Saint talked to me about this, and he said it was best that the kids believe our engagement is real so that they don’t reveal the truth to anyone by mistake.

Jaspar’s nose scrunches up. “You’re marrying a cereal thief, Em? Jeez, where do you find these guys?”

Saint’s face falls at the opinion of the six-year-old, and I fight to suppress my grin.

“I thought you had higher standards than that,” Jaspar continues, oblivious to the glare Saint is giving him.

A while later, Saint pulls into the drive of a grand house in Venetiville. Looking up at the mansion, I can tell that the kids are impressed. It’s even bigger and grander than Giotto’s place.

We climb out of the car, and I notice the armed soldiers patrolling the grounds. The Cicconis don’t live in Venetiville, and I know that Christian’s banned them from the area while they have me on a hit list.

“How many people did you have to rob to get a crib like this?” Jaspar asks with a furrowed brow.

My mouth twitches, but I decide not to correct him about what Saint actually spends most of his time doing—killing. It’s better at his age that he thinks the mafia are just about robbing people.

Before we picked up the kids from school, we swung by my place, and I packed up some bags and boxes of things to last us all while we have to stay here.

Saint pops the trunk and grabs a handful of bags. “You know, for not having a lot of shit, you have a lot of shit,” Saint mutters as he moves past me.

“It’s not that much!” I call after him. The house has a grand entrance, towered by worn stone columns. The dark oak doors are both open and lead into the large and very formal looking atrium—yeah, we have an atrium now, which Saint tells me is bigger and better than a plain foyer—with two staircases leading to a landing on the second floor. There are several doors and what looks like a sitting room with furniture covered in sheets. Milena and Giulietta stare up at the second story, mouths open.

The box in my arms vanishes, and I stop my gawking in enough time to see Saint disappearing up the stairs.

“This place is…,” Milena starts, turning around.

“Big?” Giulietta finishes. “Is there a pool?”

I shrug, unsure as I walk down the marble tiles that stretch across the atrium. “Maybe?”

“Can we see our room?” Milena asks.

“Oh…uh.” I’m not sure what to tell them. Saint and I only briefly discussed this move. And by briefly, I mean he told me how it was going to go down, and that was that. But it’s probably a safe bet to assume there are plenty of rooms for all of us.

“Can we pick them out?” Milena asks excitedly, and I open and close my mouth trying to find the answer. This is Saint’s house, not ours.

“You all have a room down the hall,” Saint says from the landing above us. “I can show you.”

The two girls race up the stairs, Giulietta protesting that Milena had a head start, while Jaspar follows more slowly.

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