Chapter 102

Christian leans closer to me, cupping my face in his palm. “You’re real to me, Iris,” he whispers, holding my gaze steadily in a way that makes me catch my breath. “You’re maybe…the only real person in my life. Okay?”

Slowly I nod, hearing him.

He leans forward and presses his lips softly, almost chastely, to mine – just for the briefest glimmer of a second. “But I hear you,” he whispers when he pulls back half an inch. “I’ll make it right, okay? You’re right. It should be real.”

Sitting very still, still not really breathing, I nod.

Christian exhales a long breath and then wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. I drape my legs over his lap, getting comfortable, a happy little smile on my mouth. Because no matter how odd and intense all of that was – how can I be anything but thrilled, right now, to be curled up on a couch with Christian? Watching old movies and drinking whiskey, so cozy and comfortable, like we were always meant to be right here, just like this.

And as we find that old rhythm again, getting comfortable, I realize that of course this is real – that moments like this are the only thing that are real.

But even as I settle warm against him, and duck my head a little to take a sniff of his shirt, my eyes fluttering half shut at the delicious way he smells…

My mind wanders to another guy, who has always been good to me.

Who feels, in some ways…just as real.

God, what the hell am I going to do about Frankie?

What do I even want to do?

When I blink awake the next morning, I groan for a second, because my head aches a little. Experimentally, I move my jaw, opening my mouth and finding it sticky. I groan again, turning my face into my pillow.

But then I go still, frowning a bit, because…

Because why is my pillow so hard against my face? Why is it…

Slowly, I pull back a bit, frowning, and see that it’s not a pillow at all.

It’s fucking Christian. His button-down shirt, his hard-muscled chest beneath it. God, no wonder I have a crick in my neck – I’ve been using a mafia boss as my pillow all night. I sigh, and rest my chin on his chest, peering up at his sleeping face, smiling a little. In sleep, you wouldn’t imagine that Christian is one of the most powerful, lethal men in our city’s criminal underworld.

No, when he’s sleeping, and his long lashes drift down to cast shadows beneath his eyes, and his full lips part slightly…

You’d think he’s an angel, not a mafia don. Fresh fallen from heaven, still with traces of its beauty in every line of him.

My heart swells as I look at him, as I realize not for the first time that my heart’s in very dangerous territory with this man. Because he could snatch it, in an instant, and I would let him. And I’m not sure I’d ever get it back.

Slowly, like he can hear my thoughts, Christian’s eyes begin to flicker and then drift open. He shifts, stretching a little, but I don’t bother to move, just smirking at him and enjoying the way his body feels beneath mine. He starts a little when he realizes that I’m there, but then his face bursts into the most beautiful smile.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke over my hair.

“Hi,” I whisper, grinning right back at him. “Why didn’t you go to bed last night?”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters, continuing to pet me with his open palm.

“Not my bed,” I reply, wrinkling my nose.

“And this?” he says, gesturing towards his torso, “is your bed?”

I laugh. “Yup,” I say, wiggling a little against him. “Super cozy. Memory foam, I think.”

“How dare you,” he murmurs, his eyes closing and his head dropping back as he allows himself to slowly wake up. “I work out way too hard for you to call my stomach and chest memory foam. My body is a very firm mattress – borderline inhospitable, like making your guest sleep on a plank of wood.”

“Oh, well, I like it,” I say with a happy, contented sigh as I turn my head and press my cheek to his chest.

“Yeah, but you’re weird,” he whispers. And I grin, and don’t counter, looking around and admiring the way that the sunlight filters into the room of the little beach cottage, falling in love with it a little bit more.

“It could be a little softer,” I murmur consideringly, peering down at his stomach and poking it with an experimental finger. “I’ll just feed you more lasagna, if I wish to adjust my sleep number.”

Christian just laughs, letting his fingers drift idly over my hair. And I grin, because I like that. I like making him laugh maybe a little too much.

“What do you want to do today?” I say softly, idly, like this really is a vacation.

“You know, the usual,” he murmurs in response. “Get some coffee, read the newspaper. Come up with a plan to avoid my dad and brothers murdering me. Dump my girlfriend.”

I burst into laughter here, because it’s a ridiculous set of plans but…well, things that all very much need to be addressed.

“I guess her concerns were well-founded,” I murmur, my fingers idly playing with the fabric of Christian’s shirt, thinking idly about how if Violetta know that Christian and I were waking up on the couch together and that I’d used him as my pillow – which is kind of the most innocent way to frame the situation – then she certainly wouldn’t be happy about it.

“What are you talking about?” Christian asks, going a little still.

I turn my head back to him, resting my chin again on his chest as I peer up into his eyes. “Huh?”

“What concerns?” he asks, frowning at me.

“Oh.” I grimace a little and then push myself up, realizing that Christian – of course – doesn’t know about that. Quickly, I tell him about the morning when I came out to find Violetta waiting for me, wanting to talk about the nature of my relationship with her boyfriend.

“And did you tell her?” Christian asks, sitting up too.

I grimace a little but then I nod, not wanting to lie. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know you told me not to tell anyone – but she was really upset. And she’s your girlfriend, I was honestly surprised you hadn’t told her already.”

Christian frowns, looking off to the side and away from me, lost in his thoughts.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask, suddenly anxious.

“No,” he murmurs, turning his eyes back to me with a sigh. “It makes sense – and we both put you in a weird place, Iris. She’d have been a lot more suspicious if she caught you in a lie or something. I’m just…surprised it happened.”

I nod, not really getting it, but he just sighs and stands up, holding out a hand to me. “Come on, let’s go get that coffee and do some food shopping. I want to get the day started and I’m not going to be able to do that without a great deal of caffeine.”

I ignore his hand for a moment and grin up at Christian, gesturing at my body. “How the hell am I supposed to go shopping with you, Chris?” I ask, glancing down at the gigantic man’s t-shirt and pajama pants that I’m wearing. “All your clothes are huge, and my dress is still all covered in blood.”

“Well,” he says, grinning at me and standing straight, putting his hands on his waist. “We just have to get creative, don’t we?”