Chapter 155

“We have four people,” Nico says, hunching his shoulders and putting his hands out in front of him, begging us to see. “Maybe six, if you could count Tony and fucking Lucy, which I very much think we cannot after the events of this morning. We have no real fire power, no excessive access to cash or muscle – this entire plan was predicated on you making a couple of very good, very precise, very secret moves, Christian! It still is! You have got to be clever right now – it’s the only thing you’ve got!”

My eyebrows go up as I realize what Nico is saying – that Christian actually doesn’t have any resources if neither Romano nor Bonetti is on his side.

Perhaps the only thing we do have is our wits and Bonetti’s cousin strapped to a chair.

A cousin that Christian just tried to kill.

Slowly, my eyes move to my husband and I realize with complete shock that he…he is perhaps not the mastermind that I thought he was. That he is in much less control of this than I thought. The realization – it shakes me to my core.

Christian – is he as good at all of this as he would have me believe? If he’s not the mafia king…then who the hell is he?

Because right now…it’s kind of looking more like Nico is the brains of the situation. Not Christian.

My husband scowls, crossing his hands over his chest and carefully considering what it is that Nico said.

“I’m not saying don’t kill him,” Nico says quietly, his eyes focused on Christian alone now. “Just…let’s lock down, okay? And make a new plan. We have…a lot to do.”

“I don’t want to lock down,” Christian says, his voice tight as he stares at Nico. “I want out of here. The apartment is compromised.”

But Nico just slowly shakes his head. “Too dangerous,” he says quietly. “Your dad knows that you’re here – and if Tony had time to get here then your dad has men watching this place. They’ll take you out, Christian – you know that – and the rest of us with him. We lock down until we make a plan.”

Christian is silent for a long moment before he nods once. “Do it,” he commands before turning hard on his heel and striding off to the master bedroom, slamming the door after him after he gets inside.

Frankie lets out a long sigh of relief, his arm loosening around me incrementally.

Nico stares after Christian for a moment and then spins back to me. “You’re a fucking idiot, Iris.”

The sound that climbs from my throat is an appalled little croak, like an angry frog. “Wha-what!? Nico! You just said I saved the day!”

“You never go against him like that!” Nico snaps, leaning forward to glare at me. “And never get in front of a knife when a man is in a rage! He could have easily killed you Iris, which would not have been a huge loss for humanity but would have ruined his life –“

“Hey!” Frankie protests, stepping forward, angry.

But Nico just shoves him aside. As he stumbles away, Frankie’s arm slips fully from my waist.

“And especially,” Nico says, soft and dangerous, “you never defy him in front of a man from another family. You know that man in there has no chance of living now, right? You doomed him as much as that knife did.”

“What!?” I gasp, angry. “How the fuck did I do that!?”

“Do you think we can let a man live when the first thing he’s going to do is go out and tell everyone that Christian Romano is under his wife’s thumb? That she cries and begs for someone’s life and he gives into it? You’re so fucking stupid, Iris, that I could kill you for it –“

“Enough,” Frankie growls, stepping in front of me and tucking me behind him. “You’re out of line, Nico – go pull your shit together.”

“You two,” Nico murmurs, livid, backing off but glancing between us. “What a fucking pair you make. The stripper and the hitman, both with hearts of gold. So fucking self righteous, both of you.”

“Go to hell, Nic,” Frankie says, dismissive, as he turns to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me with him to the living room.

“I wish to hell you two would just run away and fuck each other like you obviously want to,” Nico grumbles, striding towards the master suite. “Just get it over with and take yourselves out of the equation.”

But he doesn’t give either of us a chance to reply as he pulls open the door and moves inside, shutting it after him.

Frankie guides me to the couch and as I sit down I realize that I’m trembling a little – god, when did that start? He sits next to me and lets out a long sigh. Together, we both just stare out the huge window for who knows how long. Time…has lost a great deal of its meaning today.

“What’s going to happen next?” I whisper after hours have passed – or maybe minutes. I don’t know.

“I have no idea,” Frankie replies, his voice equally soft. I glance over at him to see him still staring unblinking out the window, his profile sharp in the bright sun. I sigh and just stare at him for a long moment instead.

Slowly, he turns his head to look at me. “Are you all right?” he whispers.

I shake my head no. He nods letting me know he understands.

“What should I do?” I ask, desperate.

Frankie takes a long moment before he answers. “I can’t answer that for you, Iris,” he whispers, reaching out a hand and slipping it in mine. “Your…your life is your own. But…I’m your bodyguard now and I…don’t want you to forget that. Whatever that entails. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.”

Slowly, I nod to him, remembering his offer. Remembering the password. Remembering…all that that entails.

I squeeze his hand, just slightly. “If you were me,” I whisper, looking up into his eyes. “What would you do?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, holding my gaze but taking his time formulating an answer. “Our situation right now is…precarious, Iris,” he whispers, shaking his head just slightly. “I am not at all sure that this ship is going to make it to shore. If I were you, I would be…very secretly starting to construct a lifeboat. Just in case.”

My brows furrow with concern because honestly I think I was hoping that Frankie was going to tell me that it was all going to be okay – that we’d get through it.

And the fact that he – Frankie, always so blasé, always laughing – is worried?

God, it worries me more than I’ve ever been.

Gently, Frankie squeezes my hand again even as he closes his eyes and lets himself slump back on the couch. “God, I could use a beer.”

“Oh,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. “Do you want me to…get you one?”

He smirks, his eyes still closed. “No, Bambi. We have a lot of murders to plan. Beer isn’t going to help with that.”

“Oh,” I say, slumping on the couch next to him, kind of disappointed. “Maybe after, then.”

“Maybe after,” he agrees.

But Frankie makes no move to get up and join Nico and Christian in the bedroom to make those plans.

So we sit very quietly on the couch together for a long time.

And neither of us makes a move to drop the other’s hand.