Chapter 29

I sit up straight, pulling my hand away from Christian and biting my lip, considering it.

He turns fully to me, watching my face, sitting quietly and letting me have a moment to think.

I just stare at him, losing myself a little in his grey-blue eyes, wondering…what the hell I’m supposed to do. Or say. Or feel!

“What do you think I should do?” I hear myself ask.

Christian just sighs and hangs his head. “I can’t make this decision for you, Iris.”

“Yes, you can!” I snap, impulsively leaning forward and giving him a little shove that makes him raise his head and glare at me. “Christian! This is your realm of expertise, not mine!”

Slowly, he sets his jaw, determined not to give in.

I gnaw at my lip again, torn. Because Christian is right – it’s my decision to make, it has to be. But still, I don’t know the rules of this world.

“If you were me,” I ask softly, looking again out the window, “what would you do?”

“I’d take him out, Iris,” Christian answers instantly, making me look back at him in surprise. “In this world, there’s no room for mercy. If you give someone an inch, they won’t take a mile – they’ll cut your throat.”

My eyes widen as I stare at him, as I begin to process – again – the true ruthlessness of his world. God, how has he survived this long?

But then I clench my own jaw against the horror I feel, because…because I won’t let it ruin me. Not as far as I can help it. I shake my head, decided. “I’m not going to ask you to kill him, Christian,” I say quietly.

Did his face fall in disappointment, or worry? Or did I imagine it?

“But,” I qualify, trying to be careful, “I won’t order you to…keep him alive either. If you have to do it…” I bite my lip again, shaking my head. “Then…I won’t hold it against you.”

“You know this is the equivalent,” Christian says, holding my gaze, “of making me decide.”

“If I say don’t kill him, could it result in my death?”

Christian slowly nods.

“Then I’m not saying…don’t kill him,” I continue. “If you really think it’s best, Christian, then…do what you have to do.”

As I speak the words I realize quite suddenly that my sense of self-preservation is indeed larger than my sense of empathy, my horror at another human being’s death at my hands, or at least my word. I admit, I’m a little surprised by this – I think I always thought myself…kinder than that.

But maybe everything Steven did to me, everything I’ve seen in the past few days has…woken me up a little. Changed me, too.

God, that happened fast.

“I’ll do what I can to show mercy,” Christian says, sighing and standing to button his suit coat. I watch him, curious.

“Where are you going?”

He turns towards me, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t you know better than to ask that, yet?”

I grin up at him, because apparently I do not.

As if he can’t really help it, Christian smiles back. Then he reaches into his pocket, producing a phone which he holds out to me. My brows raise as I take it from him.

“Is this…”

“It doesn’t have a phone plan,” he says, sighing. “And if you use it to contact anyone, Nico will take it away. Rules are the same, Iris, but we’re…trusting you more.”

“This no contact thing…” I mutter, shaking my head as anxiety twists in me. “Christian, what if something happens to Damon?”

“I’ve got eyes on his work,” Christian says softly. “If he stops showing up…we’ll know. And we’ll go from there. But Iris – you’ve got to stop worrying about problems in this world before they present themselves. You’ve got enough on your plate – you can’t worry about Damon when five mafia families are combing the city for you, thinking you know the secret ins and outs of their bookkeeping.”

“Aren’t we supposed to stay one step ahead of things?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Leave that to me. But,” Christian says, his eyes returning to the phone in my hand, “there’s a…language app on there. Prepaid, for a year. For…French.”

My spine straightens suddenly, my eyes flashing up to his with excitement. “French?”

Christian smiles, deep and genuine this time. “You always wanted to go to Paris, didn’t you?”

A huge smile breaks out on my face. “First you tell me I can’t leave the apartment, now you’re telling me to learn French so I can go to Paris!?”

“Yeah, well,” he says, laughing and turning towards the door. “It takes a long time to learn French, Iris. But start now and…we’ll see.”

I grin down at the phone, starting to flick through it and looking for the language app as Christian leaves the room. I call a passive goodbye to him as he goes, excited about his thoughtful gift. And then I lean back in my pillows, feeling quite cozy and warm, as I start the first lesson.

About an hour later, when I come out of my room showered and ready for my day mumbling “bonjour!” and “merci!,” I stop dead when I come into the living room to see Nico surrounded by a mountain of boxes and bags.

“Iris,” he growls, glaring at me with his arms crossed, “what did you do!?”

“Where’s Christian?” I ask, ignoring his question, because I mean…it’s pretty obvious what I did.

Nico glares at me, not answering my question, from which I determine that Christian is indeed gone for the day and the boys are again playing babysitter to me.

“I think your things got delivered!” Frankie calls from the couch, shooting a grin over the back edge at me while he plays his video game.

I burst into a smile, looking around at all of the boxes. “This is maybe like…half of it.”

“Half!?” Nico gasps, his hands immediately going to his head. “Iris, this is a nightmare!”

“Why!” I laugh, heading over to the bags of groceries sitting on top of the brown cardboard boxes. “Nico, there are perishables in here, you could have at least put some of these away –“

“Because I have to check them all, Iris! For like, contraband! And bombs and stuff!”

I just click my tongue at him, gathering up the bags and carrying them into the kitchen, because I know he’s exaggerating. “Wait till you see the final result, Nico!” I say, laughing. “You won’t be so mad then.”

“Get it, Iris!” Frankie calls to me. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I support you.”

“This is why you’re my favorite, Frank!” I call back, grinning at Nico, who just rolls his eyes at me and goes to flop down on the couch.

I work pretty hard for the rest of the day, setting up the kitchen the way that I want it and receiving more deliveries as they come. Frankie gets into it too, even helping me put together a little piece of furniture when it comes.

“What’s this?” he asks, carrying in a large box.

“A bed,” I reply, taking the other end and asking him to help me carry it into his bedroom.

“I already have a bed,” he replies, looking at me suspiciously as he helps.

“I know,” I sigh, “this one’s for Nico. You’re getting a roommate for a little bit.”

“Iris!” Frankie protests, his shoulders slumping even as he helps me along. “I don’t want a roommate!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” I sigh, narrowing my eyes at him as we get it into the room and I start unboxing. “Nico can’t just sleep on the couch forever. Besides,” I say, looking around the slightly messy bedroom, “you’ve got plenty of space in here.”

Frankie scowls but doesn’t protest any more. Between us, we get the bed together pretty quick.

And by the time Christian walks into the apartment a few hours later?

Well, let’s just say that it looks…different.