Chapter 171

Thirty minutes later when we come back up the stairs, Bella and Ricky run off to their individual rooms to get changed for the day and I use my foot to tap on Giana’s door, balancing a content Caterina on one arm and a second cup of coffee in the other.

Giana turns to me with a smile, looking like a completely different woman.

“Oh, my little baby!” she murmurs, rushing over to me and taking Caterina back into her arms, pressing a series of happy kisses to her face before sighing with content and looking up at me. “Thank you, Iris,” she says, a little begrudging. “That was…kind of you.”

“It was no problem,” I say quietly, ridiculously pleased to have Giana say something nice to me. She turns and heads back into the room, which is only marginally cleaner. But Giana has clearly spent the time on herself, transforming into the glamorous mafia wife she’s been for so long.

“You can wear one of those,” she says, gesturing towards the three outfits on the bed – a casual black dress, a more colorful floral maxi one, and a tracksuit much like the one I wore on the day that I played bait for Christian and the boys. I smirk a little, thinking that Giana is perhaps the inspiration for Nico’s wardrobe choices.

As I move towards the outfits, quietly draping the colorful floral one over my arm, I look around the room. “Giana,” I say quietly. “Why is it…so messy in here.”

She spins to glare at me. “You try being forced out of your home overnight, Iris.”

“I don’t mean it that way,” I say quietly, walking towards her spot by the window with the second cup of coffee as a peace offering. She scowls as she takes it from my hand. “I mean…why are you bothering? You know that you could just go and Christian would have this all packed up and sent to you.”

She huffs a derisive little laugh. “You’re thinking of your husband, Iris,” she snaps. “Not the man who killed my husband and demanded that I leave.”

I grimace a little, nodding, taking her point. But then I tilt my head to the side, considering. “Well, then why not let me do it?”

“What?” She stares at me, baffled.

“I mean, where are you going?” I ask, gesturing around to all of the stuff. “Where is it being sent to?”

Giana bites her lip and shrugs, not knowing what to say, or maybe just not willing to tell me yet.

“Do you…want to stay here?” I ask quietly, suddenly hoping fervently that she does. Giana is tempestuous and harsh, but honestly the more I get to know her the more I like her. “Christian said something about…one of the houses on the property? And he wants the children to stay close by – I know that.”

Giana gnaws at her lip as she looks away. “No, that’s too much,” she murmurs, looking out the window. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t accept that. Not after what he did.”

“Look, Giana,” I say, hesitating for a moment but then reaching out to place a hand on her arm. She snaps her head to glare at me, but I don’t take my hand away. “Whatever you want…I’ll do it. You can send word whenever you’re ready. If you want one of the houses on the property, I’ll move your stuff there. If you don’t…I’ll send your things wherever you want them to go. Even if you don’t trust Christian, I hope that you will trust me.”

Giana narrows her eyes at me now, confused. “What precisely are you proposing, Iris?”

I shrug, taking my hand away from her and taking a step back. “I’m proposing that you…stop worrying about moving right now. Take your kids – take them away somewhere. Go…to a resort, go to Disney. I don’t know. Wherever. I just know…” my voice grows thick now, and I look down at the floor. “I know that your husband just died. You haven’t had any time to process it. Just…go. Take care of yourself, get your mind together, fucking…cry your eyes out for a couple of nights – whatever works. And whenever you’re ready to start again…I’ll make sure your house is ready.”

The room is silent for a long moment. So long that when I look up at Giana, I’m horribly worried that I’ve said something really offensive – that I’ve gone too far.

But when I see the tears starting in her eyes, her red face, I realize that she just has no idea what to say.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Giana croaks, putting the cup of coffee down on the windowsill before brushing harshly at her cheeks as the tears start to fall.

“Because you need it,” I says quietly, holding her gaze. “Something horrible happened to you – and my husband is the one who did it. Just…let me do this, okay? It’s a drop in the bucket compared to what he took.”

Giana sniffs hard and looks out the window, but she nods once. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay. I’ll go and…I’ll send you word about where to send the stuff.”

“Okay, Giana.” I reply, and then sensing that she’s uncomfortable with having anyone else be witness to her tears, I quietly walk from the room, the pretty dress still draped over my arm.

As I reach the door, I turn back when I hear her call my name.

“I won’t forget this, Iris,” Giana says, her chin held high with pride as she takes a deep breath and steadies herself.

“I wish you would,” I say quietly, holding her gaze. “You owe me no debts, Giana. It is…the least I can do.”

She nods to me, once, and I head from the room.

I’m still working through the complexities of my emotions – my pity and admiration for Giana warring with my sadness for her – when I push open the door to Christian’s room. But I’m already a few feet into the room when I look around and am shocked to find it…empty.

Where…where the hell is Christian? How could I have missed him?

I scowl a little, because I wanted to catch him before he got started with his day – I have to break what I promised to Giana to him, after all, before she does – and so I very quickly get changed into the dress Giana loaned me and head out of the room, passively wondering if anyone can tell that I’m barefoot under the long length of the maxi skirt. After all, Giana did not loan me any shoes.

I turn right down the hall, towards the kitchen steps, but suddenly two soft voices in the other direction catch my attention because…

Well, because one of them sounds a hell of a lot like Christian. But what’s he doing in the private family bedrooms area of the house if he’s not in our room?

Frowning, curious, and sure that I’m wrong, I quickly turn left and head down the hall, my footsteps muffled by the soft carpet beneath my feet.

As I walk, the voices grow louder and my frown deepens because…god damn it, I could swear that that is Christian. I arrive outside a door that’s just barely open – only a crack – and pause to listen.

“I could be good for you, you know,” a woman’s voice says – and my eyebrows go up when I realize that it’s Lucy – that this must be Lucy’s room, the one she shared with Tony.

“I’m sure you could be very useful to me, Lucy. I’d prefer it if you stayed around,” Christian replies. And the depth of his voice in his moment – god, something in it makes my heart stop, my body freeze. “I would take time, of course, and a great deal of service to prove your…loyalties to the family.”

“And how do you imagine I could do that?” she answers, her voice a sultry purr.

My breath sticks in my throat as my hand flashes out, slapping hard against the door as I push it open.

I nearly collapse to the ground, my knees weak beneath me, as I see Lucy on her knees before my husband, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes with one hand wrapped around the back of his knee, as his hand strokes soft over her silky black hair.