Chapter 43

Christian climbs out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, still dripping wet as he reaches for his phone on the bedside table. There, he texts Bianca.

Christian: Have time for your favorite step-son today, B?

Her reply is almost instant, as it always is.

Bianca: Anytime, boy. Come on by.

It takes about twenty minutes for Christian to get fully pressed and dressed, but by the time he steps out of his room he’s steeled in his determination. He pulls the bedroom door shut behind him as he finishes buttoning his suit coat, his eyes going immediately to the kitchen, where Iris stands behind the counter and Nico and Frankie sit on stools, coffee in each of their hands, a half-eaten muffin on a plate in front of Frankie.

“Is there any more of that coffee?” Christian asks, his voice stern but not angry.

“Always,” Iris answers, moving immediately to the coffee machine to pour him a cup.

Christian fights hard against his smile and wins as he crosses the room in time to take the mug from her hand just as she turns around. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“It’s your coffee,” she says with a shrug, looking up at him with her crystal blue eyes. “I just made it.”

He smirks at her this time, wanting her to know it’s okay – that she didn’t do anything wrong and he’s not mad at her. It’s important that they leave this morning on good times. “Nobody makes a cup of coffee like you, Iris.”

Her face bursts into a smile that breaks his heart, so Christian just gives a little nod before turning to Nico. “You ready?”

“Sure,” Nico says, straightening up in his seat with a little frown. “Where we headed, boss?”

“I’ll let you in on it in the car,” Christian replies, taking another long sip of hot coffee before placing the mug on the counter. “Let’s go.”

“Here,” Iris says, quickly wrapping some baked goods in paper towels and handing them out to Nico and Christian. Nico immediately takes his with a murmured thanks while Christian hesitates. “It’s just breakfast,” she says, sighing and pressing the wrapped pastry towards his chest. “Most important meal of the day, even for a mob boss.”

Christian smirks at her and takes the food. He shakes his head, a little undone by this little woman whose first instinct, always, is to care. God, how did she turn out so good after everything she’s been through? How did she…

“Boss?” Nico asks, and Christian turns to see him at the door.

“Right,” Christian says. “Meet me downstairs.” Nico nods and heads out as Christian locks eyes with Frankie, lifting his chin towards the hallway. “Walk with me for a second?”

“Sure,” Frankie says, turning with Christian towards the front door.

Iris calls her goodbyes and Christian waves over his shoulder, but he keeps his focus on Frankie as they step out of the apartment.

“What is it?” Frankie asks, baffled.

“We’re going to be away for a while,” Christian says, glancing back towards the door, towards Iris behind it. “I need you to handle things here.”

“What?” Frankie’s eyes go wide. “Wait, for how long?”

“A few days,” Christian says with a shrug. “Give her everything she wants, but don’t let her leave, and don’t let anyone in. If anyone does find you, take her to another safe house, immediately. I want updates at least three times a day. If you –“

“Chris,” Frankie snaps, grabbing his friend’s arm. “What the hell is going on?”

“Just…” Christian sighs and hangs his head, pressing his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s something I have to do, all right, Frank? Just take care of her and don’t let her freak out. It’s nothing dangerous. Just business.”

“I don’t like this, Chris,” Frankie says, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “You’re not acting like you – you’re not –“

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” Christian snaps, turning away and striding for the elevator. “And it’s not for you to question.”

“She’s going to hate this!” Frankie calls after him.

And as Christian steps into the elevator and turns to look at Frankie, his face clearly says that he’s already well, well aware of that. And he’s doing it anyway.

Frankie watches the elevator doors slide shut and then he sighs, turning back to the house, wondering how he’s going to keep Iris from going stir-crazy for days on end.

“A nice girl, hmm?” Bianca asks, handing a cup of espresso to Nico and then sliding another in front of Christian as he sits at the island in the bright, perfectly clean kitchen. Honestly, the place looks ready for a shoot in Home & Garden Magazine, it’s so polished and orderly and chic.

But, Bianca is the mafia wife, and a clean, ordered kitchen is her office. Chrisitan looks up at her, glad she’s more cognizant today than she is some of the time. Bianca – she’s a good, faithful wife, but sometimes Christian wonders if his father followed his loins more than his senses with her. She’s beautiful, and strong, but the wife of a boss?

Well, perhaps Bianca was a little too tender for this particular role. He doesn’t blame her, honestly, for finding ways to cope with the stress.

“He doesn’t want a nice girl,” Giana sighs, entering the kitchen from the hall with a small basket of laundry balanced on her hip. “He wants a slut.”

“Giana!” Bianca gasps, scandalized though she smiles and laughs. “Such language, and you – pregnant!”

“Well, how do you think I got this way?” Giana says with a smirk, leveraging herself up onto a stool next to Christian and tipping the basket over, getting started on folding what looks like fifty tiny pieces of clothing. “Hey, brother,” she says, knocking her shoulder fondly against his.

“A nice girl,” Bianca insists, nodding. “Though…well, we’ll make sure she’s pretty. That’s important too.”

“So, you’re finally taking B up on her offer to help you go bride shopping?” Giana asks, her eyebrows raised as she grins at Christian and then over at Nico, who keeps his face blank while he ships his coffee. “Why the sudden change?”

Christian opens his mouth to give the same answer he gave Bianca – about it being time for a change, time to get serious, but then Giana bursts into a laugh.

“No wait,” she says, her hands pausing mid-fold as she turns to look at him. “I know what changed. A certain little stripper living in your penthouse –“

Christian scowls. “That has nothing to do with it.”

She laughs harder now, shaking her head. “Whatever, Chris! Deny it all you want.”

“Who?” Bianca asks, her brows knitting together as she starts on another set of espresso.

“Don’t worry about it,” Christian murmurs, waving a hand. “Just – do you have anyone in mind? I need someone who can handle this life, B. Someone…born to it.”

“I understand,” Bianca replies with a sigh, pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her tight jeans as the machine starts to whir and grind. “Girlfriends and women you’ve got – you’re looking for a wife now. I get it.” She turns back to the group, leaning against the counter and starting to flick through her contacts.

“You got someone in mind?” Giana asks, genuinely curious now.

“Oh, I’ve got several in mind,” Bianca replies, a smile on her perfectly painted lips. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long, long time.”

She puts the phone on the granite counter-top, the picture of a smiling, dark-haired young woman on the screen, and slides it over to Christian.

“Flick right to see more girls,” she says with a happy sigh, standing and moving towards the espresso machine. “Anyone you like, and I’ll set it up.”

“So fun,” Giana says, wrinkling her nose at Christian. “Like watching The Bachelor play out in my own house.”

But Christian just sighs and begins to flick through the photos of the eligible bachelorettes, pushing away the disappointment that none of the girls on the screen have that sweep of honey-blonde hair, those gorgeous eyes, that sweet, laughing smile that he already misses even though he hasn’t been gone more than an hour.