Chapter 32

Christian sighs, lifting his eyes again to mine and answering me honestly, I think. “They’re…women I date. Women who understand who I am, and what their role is in my life. And who are…compensated. In the form of very nice dates, and even nicer gifts.”

“Oh,” I say, honestly kind of impressed. “Wow.” The nicest thing Steven ever got me as gift was…I don’t know, gum?

But even if I understand Christian’s romantic situation better now, I can’t help the jealousy that builds in me. And indeed, I can’t pretend that it’s anything but jealousy that roils in my gut, making me look askance at the slice of cake I cut for myself.

“Don’t overthink it,” Christian murmurs, leaning back and taking a long sip of his coffee. “It’s just…part of this world.” I turn my head to the side, considering him, wondering if I think that it’s a good part of this world.

“So, you’re never going to get married?”

He sputters a little bit into his coffee. “What?”

“If you just have these very convenient contract girlfriends,” I say, drifting a hand through the air like it’s easy and obvious. “You’re never going to get married?”

“Marriage,” Christian sighs, putting his mug down and shaking his head at me. “It means something else in this world, Iris. People don’t marry for love – not really. It’s about safety, and family ties, and…a thousand other things.”

“Oh,” I say, looking down at the floor and thinking that’s kind of…depressing. “So maybe you will get married.”

“Probably not,” he says, dry, and I find myself looking back up into his eyes.

“Really?”

“Iris,” he sighs, smiling at me. “A wife, children? They’re all risks in this world that make you vulnerable.”

“And above all things,” I say, lifting my chin, starting to understand him a little bit more. “You need to stay…invulnerable.”

“Safe,” he says, nodding. “Secure. It’s the top priority – the only priority. Plus,” he lifts his mug again, taking a long sip of the coffee I made, “it allows me to protect the very, very small number of people I actually love in this world.”

And I tilt my head to the side as I consider him, wondering if…

Well. Wondering if I really do count within that number.

Or if I’m just flattering myself, thinking that I might.

Christian opens his mouth again, ready to say something more, but the doorbell rings, making him go rigid. We both turn towards the door in surprise.

“Don’t worry,” Nico croaks, coming out of the bedroom in a hurry and rubbing his eyes, still half asleep as he heads for the door. “It’s just Iris’s damn clothes. I had the store do an early delivery so we can make sure it all fits.”

And despite our serious conversation, I find myself standing up straight and peering curiously towards the door.

Because apparently I’m getting a new, mafia-approved wardrobe today.

And I’m dying to see what that looks like.

My mouth drops open when I see the boxes and boxes of items that are brought in by the delivery men, all of which Nico neatly organizes at the door before neatly slipping the men some cash and waving them away.

“Wow,” I whisper, looking up at Christian, who calmly sips his coffee. “You weren’t kidding about not caring how much I bought yesterday.”

He smirks a little at me, giving me a shrug and shaking his head.

No, clearly Christian has money for days, especially if he has money for a whole new wardrobe just so I can meet his dad.

“I think…Gucci…” Nico says quietly, half to himself as he unzips a garment bag and reveals what looks like a very simple black dress. He looks to Christian with his eyebrow raised.

“Whatever you think, Nic,” Christian says, grabbing his half-eaten plate of cake and his coffee before turning away to his bedroom.

“Wait,” I call after him, confused. “Why is Nico in charge of this?”

“Because I have the best taste,” Nico says when Christian walks away without answering.

“You do?” I ask, turning to him, my eyes sweeping over his very simple sweatshirt and pajama pants.

Nico turns to me with a smirk, lowering the garment bag a little. “I mean, if you want we can let Frankie pick –“

“Nope!” I say, grabbing my coffee and hurrying to his side. “Which shoes am I bringing?”

He just laughs and directs me to the correct box before I carry both to my room, ready to get changed.

About an hour later I re-emerge into the penthouse living room, a little confused. Because honestly, while this dress is nice, it’s…simple.

Christian, Nico, and Frankie go quiet, turning to me, their eyes each moving over me in a way that makes me scowl because I feel like a piece of meat being judged at the butcher shop before being wrapped up and carried home.

“Is this really how you want me to look?” I ask, gesturing at the black dress with its little gold details. It’s cute, really – more spring-forward than I’d have thought would be appropriate in winter. A little shapeless in its mod style, but short enough that my long legs are on full display. The little gold details on the belt and the buttons that run down the front match the gold strip on the heel of my black leather booties.

I mean, again, it’s cute but…none of it screams wealth or power – which I thought was important in the mafia world.

“It’s perfect,” Christian says, giving a sharp nod and a small smile as he stares at me.

“Yet again, I hit the mark,” Nico says with a satisfied sigh, raising his coffee cup to me before draining it. “You look good, Iris!”

I shrug, looking down at myself, thinking I have quite a bit to learn about fashion when Frankie comes to my side, linking his elbow with mine, already dressed in a gorgeous Italian suit like the other two. “You look sweet,” he says softly to me, and I raise my eyes to him. “Innocent and cared for, but like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. Which is precisely what Christian wants today.”

“Oh,” I say, my brows raising as I look down at myself again, at the way my dress refuses to touch any of my curves, the way it looks polished but minimal. I raise my eyes to Nico, impressed anew – if that was the goal, then this really does hit the mark.

“Ready?” Christian says, crossing the room and passing me a purse that probably costs a couple grand.

“Is there even anything in this?” I sigh, taking the purse from him and tucking it under my arm.

“Nope,” he says, grinning at me. “But if you don’t show up with a purse people will think you’re a servant. Or a hooker.”

“Oh my god,” I sigh, rolling my eyes and gesturing towards the door. “Let’s get this over with!”

Christian nods to me and then signals to his bodyguards, the four of us heading out the door, down the elevator and to the garage. As we move to a black SUV, I look around for the shot-out car that we arrived in a few days ago, thinking passively that I haven’t actually been outside since then.

But to my surprise, the car is gone.

“Hey,” I ask as I climb into the back seat next to Frankie, Christian taking shotgun next to Nico. “What did you do with all of my money?”

“What money?” Frankie asks, turning to frown at me.

I frown right back at him before shifting my eyes to Christian’s. “All the money that I had in my hands when you three dragged me out of the strip club against my will.”

“Ah, all your dirty money,” Frankie says, laughing a little as he smiles at me. “You spent that! On all the furnishings for the penthouse.”

I gasp, my eyes going directly to the back of Christian’s head.

Because – seriously? I thought I’d been using my credit card – but has he been using my own funds all along!?