Chapter 157

The next morning I wake up to the feel of Christian’s hand on my hip, sliding around to my stomach and pulling him closer against him. I go stiff, still angry and upset about everything that happened yesterday, but he dips his head low and presses a kiss first to my shoulder, and then lower to my neck, and then pulls me tight against him as he sighs and tucks his head down close to mine.

“I’m sorry, Iris,” he whispers, his lips so close that I can feel them moving against my hair. “It hasn’t been fair – it hasn’t been right. I’m sorry about it – all of it.”

Something in the stark honesty of his words makes me turn in his arms. Christian helps me, settling me close to him, and we speak in a whispered hush in the dawn light.

“Why does it all have to happen now, so fast?” I ask quietly, shaking my head. “It feels…hasty, Christian. Out of control. I’m worried.”

He nods, letting his eyelids drift shut. “It has to happen now because I have four brothers,” he murmurs, “and one hell of a father. It’s not…it’s not like a normal family, Iris – there is no happy family here. We’re rivals – when one wins, another loses. Lorenzo’s on to it now – he’s fully aware I’m coming for his spot in the family again. He made significant moves against me yesterday – solidifying his place with dad.”

“Lorenzo!?” I breathe, not really believing it. I mean, I remember months ago when Frankie made jokes about how every hooker knew how Lorenzo cut his cocaine – and when I met him at dinner, he was so disconnected from the family politics.

“Don’t underestimate Lorenzo,” Christian murmurs, eyes still shut. “He’s as hungry as the rest of us.”

I stay quiet then, peering at Christian’s beautiful face, my eyes drifting over the stubble on his cheeks, his full lips. We breathe in silence until I get the courage to say what I’m thinking.

“And are you hungry too?” My question is hushed.

Christian opens his eyes. “What?”

“Why are we doing this, Chris? You…I mean, you told me about the better underworld that you want to make but…is this also about winning with you? Is it also about power?” My mind flashes back to the Christian of our childhood, who wasn’t precisely a sore loser – he never flipped over a game board if he lost. But…he sure did like to win.

He sighs and shakes his head though, denying it. “It’s not like that, Iris. It’s about…surviving. Building a world in which we survive and have control over our lives. Me and you.”

“But couldn’t we have that?” I whisper, shaking my head. “If we just let one of your brothers take the family? If we just…went away?”

He smiles at me, a little sadly, and reaches up a hand to drift his thumb over my lips. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

But Christian doesn’t answer, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my mouth. And, fool that I am, I let him wipe away all my thoughts – all my questions – in the comfort of him, of his mouth on mine, his body pressed against me.

A little later, when Christian and I emerge freshly showered and in leisurewear, Nico and Frankie are waiting at the table for us.

“Thank god,” Frankie murmurs, holding up his coffee cup towards me. “Iris can you remake this? Nico tried to do it and it’s horrible.”

I smirk and cross to Frankie, taking the mug from his hand and giving it a quick sniff. I grimace and take it with me as I move into the kitchen. “What did you do to it, Nico?”

“I don’t have time for all your grinding and brewing nonsense,” Nico says with a sigh, waving a hand at me and turning his attention to Christian. “I used the instant stuff in the back of the cupboard.”

I gasp, appalled at the affront, and begin the process of making actual coffee for the four of us. The men talk quietly at the table and I eavesdrop a little, wanting confirmation that Calvin is still alive. When I get it, around the time that the coffee is done and I bring three cups over to the table, I glance towards my old bedroom, wondering if he’s hungry.

“Not today, Iris,” Nico says, a little exhausted. “He can go hungry for a couple of hours. We have to get started.”

“What?” I ask, looking at him with wide eyes. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” Nico replies, stern, holding my gaze.

“Um…” I say, looking between the three of them. “What…what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get dressed,” Christian says, and I turn my head to find him looking at me steadily, assessing. “You’re coming with us.”

I don’t miss that Frankie clenches his jaw and looks away.

“Why?” I breathe, starting to get scared. Because…I know what Christian means when he says that it’s going to “go down” today. I know that there will be big moves – death, potentially.

“Because,” Christian answers, stern. “We need to convince my father and Bonetti from the start that I’m going to this meeting in good faith. If I show up without you, when you’ve been pinned to my side from the start, they’re going to know it’s because I’m protecting you. Because I envision violence happening today.”

I start to shake a little bit at the mention of violence because…will it?

“Again,” Frankie snaps, still not looking at Christian. “Neither of them are bringing their wives in a gesture of good faith.”

“Neither of them are leveraging their wife as the reason for a big change,” Nico snaps, glaring hard at Frankie, who doesn’t see it.

I stare at the three of them and think suddenly about the alternative – about sitting in this penthouse alone staring at the phone, waiting for a call that may never come. And, I mean, if they lock the doors – what if they all die and I’m just…stuck up here? I’d starve, and they’d be dead, and I’d have no way out –

“I’m coming,” I say all in a rush, my breath starting to come fast as my heart begins to pound. “I…I want to be there. I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Frankie snaps his head towards me as Christian and I lock eyes.

“Good,” Christian says. Frankie sighs and rubs at his eyes. “Then let’s get dressed, Iris. You need to look the part.”

It’s a little awkward as Nico walks with me into my old room. It’s always awkward, I suppose, to pick out a dress while your mafia captive looks on. I send Calvin a glance as Nico sorts through my closet, worried for him, thinking that he looks like his nerves are drawn incredibly thin. But Calvin just gives me a nod, letting me know he understands that I can’t do anything. That if I could, I would.

I nod back to him, apology on my face.

“This,” Nico says, pulling out a short, chic black dress with a high collar and pressing it against me. “The prada boots too.” He turns to consider me, looking me up and down. “Do you know how to put up your hair?” He gestures at his own head, twirling his finger around like he’s forming a bun.

“Yes, Nico,” I growl, giving him a shove on the shoulder. “Obviously I know how to put up my hair –“

“Not just in a ponytail, Iris,” Nico snaps, frowning at me. “This is serious –“

“God damn it,” I breathe, my shoulders slumping, “if one of you tells me one more time how fucking serious this is…”

Nico smirks at me then and then nods once, putting his hands on his hips. I sigh and turn towards the door but he reaches out his hand and grabs my arm. “I’m serious, Iris,” he says, pitching his voice low and glancing over at Calvin, who is clearly listening. “You need to…comport yourself well.”

I yank my hand out of his arm. “And what makes you think I won’t!?”

Nico’s smirk just deepens as he raises one eyebrow at me.