Chapter 17

Suddenly, quite suddenly, it’s all too much.

I burst into tears, burying my face in my hands again, sobs shaking my shoulders as I blubber against my palms. I start to cry so hard that I can’t even catch my breath, and then I panic because I know these tough mafia guys are looking at me like I’m an idiot. But honestly, I can’t even care – because Christian is asking me whether or not I want to save Steven’s life, the man who tried to sell me into sex work, who is the whole reason I’m being held captive for my own protection…

Some part of me hears Christian saying something to Nico and Frankie, telling them to make themselves scarce for a moment while he has a word with me. But the majority of me is so focused on my disaster of a life that I jump when I feel a soft blanket settling around me.

I look up at Christian in surprise as he sits down next to me on the couch, slipping an arm around my shoulder. “It’s all right,” he murmurs, reaching a soft hand out to wipe the tears off my cheeks. I look around a little, but Frankie and Nico are gone.

I turn my face back to Christian, leaning into him a bit, still crying but shaking my head now because –

Because he’s back. The Mafia King mask has been lifted away and my Christian is here now, his arm around my shoulders, softly wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, shaking his head at me, true grief on his face for everything he’s making me give up. “I’m so sorry, Daisy. But it won’t be so bad here. You’ll be comfortable, and I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t want to be comfortable, Christian,” I murmur, hiccupping through my words as my tears start to subside. “I want to work – Steven aside, I liked my life. I liked going to school – I had dreams –“

Christian’s face truly falls now, guilt in every line. And I don’t have to say it, because he’s realizing that he’s taken those dreams away from me now.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers. “But – you get it, right? Why I can’t let you go out there?”

And I sigh, and lean against him, and rest my head against my old friend’s chest. Because I do realize that he can’t help it – that he’s actually saving my life, when Steven is the one who destroyed it. Slowly I nod, letting him know that I understand.

But still…it’s such a loss. Everything, my whole life, just wiped away.

We stay like that for a long time, Christian softly petting my hair as I cry myself out.

A few minutes later, when my tears subside, I sniff and pull myself up a little. I grimace when I look down at Christian’s shirt. “I got you all wet,” I murmur.

“I’ve survived worse,” he says, a little twist of humor to his words as he offers me a tissue from the box on the coffee table.

I accept it, wiping at my nose as I study him, frowning a little. “Why are you only nice to me when those two aren’t around?” I say, lifting my chin to gesture to wherever they went in the Penthouse.

Christian smirks, looking down the hallway towards the bedrooms. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” I say, leaning forward and staring at him like it’s obvious when he turns his attention back to me. “You’re all big macho mafia guy when they’re around,” I say, and his smirk deepens. “But when they’re not…” I turn my head to the side, considering him. “You’re Christian again.”

His smile fades away and he looks away from me, towards the windows. “I’m a different person in this world, Iris,” he says quietly. “They expect me to be like this – the world expects, needs me to be like this. There is…a lot riding on me keeping it all together.”

Grief sweeps through me then at the idea that I’m just another burden for his shoulders to bear.

But beyond that grief, real curiosity burns.

“Do you like it?” I ask quietly, and Christian turns to me, not understanding. I bite my lip. “Frankie told me…a little bit. About your world.”

Christian frowns, clearly pissed that Frankie told me anything – but I reach out and put a hand on his arm.

“He didn’t tell me anything big, Christian,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Just – you know, where you’ve been for the past thirteen years. That you have…brothers now? And a…a dad?”

A little bit of hope comes into my voice now, because Christian – he always mourned the fact that he didn’t have a father like Damon and I did. And now he does.

“Is it everything you dreamed?” I ask quietly, hoping desperately for his sake that it is.

Christian stares at me again, his face unreadable, before he sighs and scrapes his hand down over his face and starts to stand up.

“Where are you going?” I ask, confused and surprised as he heads around the coffee table, aiming for the kitchen.

“I’m getting us refills, Iris,” he replies, his voice tired. “Because if we’re going to have the family chat, I’m going to need another drink.”

And, despite myself, I laugh.

Christian turns in the kitchen, looking at me over his shoulder, and the smile on his face when he hears me laugh…

Damn, but if it isn’t a balm to my little sad heart.

Christian – making him smile. It had always been the best part of my day.

He brings the bottle of wine over with a second glass and sits quietly down on the sofa. Then he fills my half-full glass again, pouring a second for himself as he raises his eyes to mine.

“You still have to answer the question about your boyfriend,” he says quietly, and before my heart can sink too deep he qualifies that statement. “But you can take until the morning to think about it. All right?”

“All right,” I whisper, taking the glass he hands to me and staring down into the pretty golden wine.

“Now,” Christian says, leaning back against the couch cushions and resting an arm over the back of the couch, raising his glass to me in a little toast. “Fill me in. What’s Damon been up to?”

I look at him curiously for a moment, and then feel my lips turn up into a smile.

Because Christian – he’s being very sweet right now, isn’t he? He knows I’m a wreck, and that I need to get my mind on something else for a minute so that I can relax and breathe. Christian’s giving me that space by allowing me to talk about the thing I care about most: the people I love.

So, I launch into the story of my life with Damon – how sad we were the morning we woke up to find Christian gone, how bored we were in the weeks following when we didn’t have anyone to play with all day. Christian laughs when I tell him about how the neighborhood girls tried to bribe me for his email address too, but I wouldn’t give it.

Things are a little darker, though, as I tell of Damon’s high school years. Of how he fell in with sort of a dark crowd once Christian wasn’t there anymore, seeking the kind of connection the two of them had. Unfortunately, the only place Damon found that connection was in drugs and alcohol.

“It wasn’t bad at first,” I say, looking down into my empty glass as Christian refills it – the story is taking some time to tell, after all. “Just smoking weed after school and going to some parties on the weekends. But then he…he met more people, who got him into harder stuff. He did a semester at community college before he…fell off the map a little bit.”

“That must have been really difficult,” Christian murmurs, his eyes on me through every word of the story. “Did he…find his way back out?”

“Eventually,” I say, glancing at my phone on the table, worried again that I’m missing texts from him. “He’s been clean and sober for two years now. But…it’s not always easy. He’s in the restaurant industry too, which I know he loves, but I think drugs are more…available to him in his world than mine.”

“Iris,” Christian murmurs, leaning forward to look at me with a smirk. “You work in a strip club.”

Suddenly I burst out laughing, realizing the truth of his statement. “Yeah,” I say, cocking my head to the side and giving him a real smile. “But only part time, and I don’t hang out with the bad girls.”

Christian tilts his head back and laughs at this – really laughs. “Don’t tell Frankie that not all strippers are bad girls,” he says a moment later when he lifts his head to smile at me again. “You’ll break his heart.”

“What,” I say, grinning and sipping from my glass of wine, starting to feel the alcohol do its work and bring a little buzz of cheer to my worn and weary heart, “you guys never met a stripper with a heart of gold?”

“Not until last night,” Christian murmurs, shaking his head and smiling at me.

“Well,” I say, leaning forward a little more, “you aren’t looking very hard, then. A lot of really nice girls work at the club – it’s good money! And hard work!”

“Iris,” Christian sighs, tilting his head to the side, “I have a feeling that you view most things in the world like that. Even in the darkest cloud, you can find the silver lining.”

“Yeah well,” I say softly, resting my head against the sofa and gazing at him, “what’s life without a little hope, Chris?” I observe him for a second, taking in the sharp lines of his face which look…honestly so weary for his young age.

He doesn’t reply, just holds my gaze for a long time.