Chapter 135

The next morning Christian wakes before me and presses a sweet kiss to my cheek before he heads into the bathroom for a shower and to generally clean up. I lounge in bed for a few moments by myself, stretching out, enjoying the fact that my husband has luxurious tastes and a seriously gigantic bed.

But then I sigh, and sit up, and hurry quickly to my room – is it my room anymore? – to pull on some quick clothing. Because I have things to do.

I put on a pot of coffee in the kitchen and then head back into the master bedroom, where I strip the sheets off the bed. I hum to myself lightly, enjoying having a bit of busy work, and then I leave the sheets in a heap on the floor – which I would usually never, ever do.

Blissful, I head into the kitchen and pour myself a big cup of coffee, almost all the way to the rim. I don’t bother to add sugar and cream. It would be wasteful. Then I carry it carefully into the bedroom, just as Christian steps through the door from the bathroom, a towel around his waist. And then I trip!

An accident! Completely by mistake! And spill the whole cup of coffee all over the sheets.

“Oh no!” I gasp, going to my knees next to them, setting the coffee mug down next to me and gathering the fabric up into my hands as if there’s something I can do about it. Christian walks over, peering over the bed, curious. “I’m so sorry, Chris,” I say, looking up at him from the floor, my face pained. “I think…god, I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t worry about it, Iris,” he says, giving me a smile. “We’ll just wash them.”

“No, Chris,” I say, holding them up so he can see. “I think…I think they’re ruined.”

“Well, that’s all right,” he murmurs, stepping close to me and running a hand over my hair. “We’ll put in an order for new ones. Fresh sheets are always a good thing anyway.”

“Really?” I ask, my eyes wide. “It’s that simple?”

“We’ll put the order in today,” he says, giving an easy shrug. Then his eyes shift to my coffee up. “Is there any more of that?” he asks, hopeful.

“Sure,” I reply, giving him a big, grateful smile. “Lots. You get dressed, I’ll bring you a cup.”

Christian murmurs something sweet about having such a lovely wife, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. And as he moves to the huge walk-in closet, I gather up the sheets and carry them all into the kitchen, where I shove them unceremoniously into a trash bag.

Good riddance, I think, glaring a little at the bag as I kick it over towards the door and move to the coffee pot, wanting to make good on my promise to bring my husband a cup. I mean, what I really wanted to do was burn them. But…this will raise fewer questions.

That job done, I cheerfully carry the cup of coffee in to Christian, give him a sweet kiss on the cheek, and grab my mug off the floor before I head back out into the kitchen to make my own first real cup, this time with sugar and cream.

When Christian comes out of the room about ten minutes later in a suit and tie, carrying his empty coffee cup, I go a bit stiff, looking down at my very comfortable athletic wear. “Oh…” I say, my voice trailing off. “Um. Should I be dressed differently? Are we going somewhere?”

“No, Iris,” Christian murmurs, coming close and pressing a kiss to my temple as he tugs me to his side. “You look beautiful and should be comfortable. It’s just me that has to look the part today.”

“What part?” I look up into his face with a frown, worried. He steps away and I clutch at my coffee mug as he sits down at the table, gesturing towards the chair next to him and inviting me to sit.

I nod, grabbing the plate of pancakes I whipped up and setting them on the table between us. I go back for the coffee pot, refilling Christian’s mug before I sit down and placing the carafe next to me. Christian stares at the pancakes in disbelief.

“How did you have time to make these,” he murmurs before looking up into my eyes. “I was in there for like…ten minutes.”

“Pancakes from a boxed mix don’t take long, Chris,” I say with a frown, leaning over to lift the little gravy boat of warmed syrup and place it closer within his reach. “It took like, eight seconds.”

He blinks his eyes hard in disbelief and shakes his head before he smirks and pours syrup over the pancakes. “I married the right woman.”

“Damn right you did,” I murmur, picking up two forks and handing him one, digging into my side of the stack as he does his. Christian smirks and considers me for a second before nodding.

“So,” I say, smiling back at him, thoroughly enjoying our quiet little domestic moment before he gives me mafia news that I’m sure will ruin my day. “Where are you going? And am I just hanging here?” I frown a bit at the idea and Christian’s smirk deepens, because he knows how much I hate just hanging out here.

Not that I wouldn’t mind having the time to thoroughly purge the penthouse of evidence of Christian’s ex.

“You’re not hanging here,” he says quietly, taking another bite of pancakes and considering me seriously. “I’m sending you to the beach house.”

“What?” I gasp, sitting up straight a bit. “But…how…”

“You can drive, right?” He asks, furrowing his brow at me.

“Yes, I can drive!” I reply, scowling and smacking him on the arm, which makes him laugh. “You usually just have Frankie drive me everywhere, but you sent him away last night. So you could ravish me in peace.”

“An excellent decision on my part,” Christian replies, smug, flashing his eyes up at me before concentrating on the pancakes. Because he’s well aware that I thoroughly enjoyed myself last night too and wouldn’t have wanted anyone in the house to hear just how…loud my appreciation got.

I blush a little at the memory, but Christian is gentleman enough to pretend not to notice. “Well, since you can drive, I’ll send you off to the beach in your own car. Sorry you won’t be a passenger princess today, my dear.”

I bite my lip a little. “Is that safe?” I ask. Because I’ve been able to drive this whole time – the only reason Christian sent Frankie with me everywhere was to keep me safe.

“Safe enough,” he says, giving a little shrug. “No one knows you’re here tonight except my family, and they’re mollified for the moment. I’ll tail you out of the city for a bit, but I think the chances of anything happening are slim enough to risk it. Would you be comfortable with that?”

I hesitate for a moment. “How long will we be apart?”

“One night,” he replies, steady. “I don’t know when I’ll be back today – it could take all day and all night to get things set up the way I need them. Nico’s coming to meet me, we’ll do it together. But I’d feel better having you totally off the grid – or, as off the grid as we can get you.”

“What about Frankie?” I ask, confused.

“He stays with you,” Christian replies, easy. “For protection. Not that I think you’ll need it.”

I nod, my stomach curling a little to think…

But. Well. I don’t need to think about that, do I?

Still, I push a piece of pancake around with my fork, conflicted. “Is it dangerous, Chris? What you’re doing today? I…I don’t know, really, what any of the plans are. But should I be worried for you?”

“You should never be worried for me,” he replies, his voice hard and even. I look up at him, wondering how on earth that would be possible. Christian’s face softens slightly when he sees my expression and he reaches out, taking my chin in his hands. “We’re making big moves, Iris,” he says quietly. “But now that I’ve got you? I’m not taking risks that would put this at jeopardy. Have faith in me, love. Please.”

I stare at him for a moment and then nod once, promising and hoping very much that I can live up to that promise. Still, my hand is tight around my fork.

“Will you explain the plan to me?” I ask quietly, hesitant. “So that I can…have more faith?”

Chrisitan exhales a long, slow breath, clearly not wanting to give me information that our enemies could use against us. But, seeing that I need it, he nods once.

And then my husband begins to lay out his plan to take over the mafia world.