Chapter 101

I lose myself completely to it for a second – to the feel of Christian’s mouth moving against mine, to the way his hair feels against my fingers as I slip them through his hair, to the way his hand slides down along my side with intent, with reverence.

But when that palm hits one of the bruises on my ribs, pressing a little harder than I think he means to in his urgency to touch me, to feel me –

I come back to myself.

And remember who I am. And who he is. And why we’re here. And the life from which we’ve stolen this night, this time.

I pull away, staring up into his beautiful face, shaking my head slightly.

“Iris,” he begs, shaking his head as well, but for a different reason. “Please, Iris – I don’t – it’s all I’ve ever –“

“Chris,” I whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. I move my hands from their place in his hair, letting them slip down so that my palms press to his cheeks. “It’s not…it’s not real.”

“What?” he asks, his brows knitting together, frowning at me.

“This?” I murmur. “This is a vacation, Chris.”

Christian glances around the room, a little bit of a grimace on his mouth, and I laugh as I intuit his thoughts – that this isn’t much of a vacation, if we’re hidden away in a cold cottage living on whiskey and canned soup.

But I shake my head, even as I smile at him, and press my point. “We’re stepping away from our lives here, Chris – you won’t even talk to me about it. I don’t…” I bite my lip, wondering if I should say it. But then I find my courage and continue, my voice barely audible. “I don’t want you only in spaces where we hide away from reality. I want you…for real, Chris. And if I can’t have that…I don’t want half measures.”

He sighs, hanging his head a little, but I can see that he understands. “What if this is our real life?” he asks, raising his eyes to mine. “What if this is the start of it? Things can start on vacation and be brought home.”

“Well, is it?” I ask, needing to know. We’ve had too many vague rules in the past few months – I need to know what the boundaries are.

“Do you want it to be?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

I smirk a little, seeing what he’s doing as he passes the question back to me. But two can play at that game. “Do you?”

Christian laughs a little and leans forward, seeking to kiss me again – and I don’t know, I honestly don’t know if that’s his answer, presented without words.

But still, I stop him – putting a hand out between us, pressing it to his chest just below his neck. And even though it breaks my heart to do it – because trust me, I want him to kiss me right now more than I think I’ve wanted anything – I know that it’s not right.

“Christian,” I whisper, shaking my head, my voice sad.

“What is it, Iris? What could it possibly be?”

But I just sigh, and say the one thing that I know is going to kill this – the one thing that’s really standing out in my mind as the real obstacle here.

An obstacle that he put in place so that things like this wouldn’t happen.

“Violetta.”

My word works almost like it’s a magical password. The moment I say it Christian sighs again, and loosens his arms, and hangs his head as he sits up. He supports me as he moves away, holding his arms steady while I find my balance and then sit up myself, moving off his lap and tucking myself into the corner of the couch next to him, watching him carefully.

But he doesn’t look at me, just down at his hands. When I’m settled in next to him, he speaks. “That’s over, Iris,” he says softly. “It was…never real, not really. Like so many mafia relationships and marriages – it was all for position and show.”

“Was it?” I ask, kind of surprised. I mean…Violetta and Christian looked pretty happy together.

Slowly he nods, still looking down at his hands.

And I can’t help it – I laugh a little. He snaps his head up to look at me, I think justifiably a little pissed, and I immediately feel sorry about it, slapping a hand over my mouth and shaking my head. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you laughing?” he asks, his brows drawing together. “What on earth is funny about this?”

“It’s just,” I say, dropping my hands and hoping that my face shows him how sorry I am. But still, I continue, not quite buying it. “Chris,” I say, holding out a hand between us, “you can’t say that you and Violetta weren’t real. You were sleeping with her!”

“So?”

“So!?” I say, leaning forward to stare at him, incredulous. “Christian!”

“What,” he says, loosening up, smirking at me a little now. “You’ve never slept with someone you didn’t love?”

“Nope!” I say, leaning even further forward, meeting his eyes seriously.

It’s Christian’s turn to laugh now, not in a mean way, but I think a little charmed by my blunt innocence.

“I have had one serious boyfriend,” I inform him seriously, and perhaps a little smug, “and that’s who I’ve slept with, Chris. And yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have loved him, but I did.” Christian laughs a little more at my very pure little notions of love and sex, and I grin too, a little pleased to have the moral high ground.

“Yeah, well,” he sighs, his head hanging a little as he breaks eye contact with me. “We’re not all as good as you are, Iris. I’ve slept with my fair share of women I haven’t been in love with – honestly, that’s probably the only sex I’ve ever had.”

My heart breaks for him a little bit, but I press on, not letting myself get distracted with pity for a man who’s probably had more than his fair share of sex with beautiful women. Nope, he’s not going to get any pity from me tonight on that subject.

“She’s your girlfriend, Chris,” I say, tossing a hand out between us. “I saw the way you two were together. You’re not going to convince me that there weren’t some feelings there.”

“There were feelings,” he says, raising his eyes to mine again and giving a half-hearted shrug. “She was…the perfect mafia girlfriend, would have made the perfect mafia wife. Smart, beautiful, discreet – and she knows the rules of this world.”

My stomach turns a little with jealousy because I certainly do not know the rules the way Violetta does. But I ignore it and pray that it’s not showing on my face.

“But I didn’t love her, Iris,” Christian continues, wearing his own emotions plain for me to see. “It is…foolish, in this world, to marry a woman you love. It’s…too dangerous, for both parties.”

“Well, that’s incredibly sad, Chris,” I say, unable to help leaning a little bit closer.

“It’s not a good world,” he murmurs, reaching out to softly trace his knuckles down my bruised cheek – not pressing hard, not hurting me, but certainly reminding me what this world does to women.

It’s on my lips to ask him why he wants to stay in this world, but I force myself back to the subject at hand. “So, you and Violetta are finished?” I ask.

Christian drops his hand from my face and nods to me seriously. “Yeah.”

“And does she know you’re finished?” I ask, pushing, my eyebrows going up.

Christian laughs a little, a wide grin spreading over his lips. “I mean, when she hears about me dashing off to rescue you, and then about the bounty dad’s probably putting on my head – yeah, she’ll figure it out.”

I burst out laughing too, shaking my head at him. “No way, Romano,” I say quietly, pointing a finger at him. “I don’t kiss guys who have girlfriends –“

The way he quirks an eyebrow at me makes me laugh again – because, I mean, obviously I just did. I lean back to give him a sharp, playful kick that makes him laugh too.

“Fine!” I amend. “I don’t kiss guys with girlfriends anymore. I’ve turned a new leaf.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” he insists.

“You do too,” I say, pointing at him again and leaning back against the couch’s arm. “It’s not over until you dump her, Chris – until she’s aware that you’ve dumped her. It’s not real. And…” I bite my lip again as my mind turns again to the point of it all. “And I don’t want to be your vacation girl. The one you kiss when you’re taking a break from your life.”

Christian’s face falls when I say that, like he feels terribly guilty I ever felt that way.