Chapter 68

The money and the card held tight in my hand, I make my way over to my bodyguard, deciding to get the teasing over with sooner rather than later. There’s no avoiding it, after all.

“Wowwww, how much did you get?” Frankie asks, grinning deviously and leaning over the bar, trying to peek into my hand.

“Oh, just a cool million,” I say with a sigh, leaning against the bar across from him. “It’s been a slow afternoon.”

“You were very impressive, Bambs,” he says, watching me. “All your little tricks.”

“Kinda surprised he fell for it,” I say with a sigh, glancing away a little bit. “Guy like that – you’d think he’d be used to women coming on to him insincerely.”

“I’m not sure he didn’t,” Frankie murmurs, and when I turn back to him Frankie leans forward and grabs my chin, just the same way Edward did. I go still, surprised and a little alarmed as Frankie leans forward towards me, staring into my eyes the way Edward did too.

“What?” I breathe.

“Men can fake it too, Bambs,” he murmurs, leaning closer to me, possessive. He lets his eyes fall to my lips, and the way he stares at them – like he owns them… God, but my breath hitches. Because…well, I mean, because Frankie is being very sexy right now. Way sexier than I’ve seen him be before. But then he smirks, and lets my chin go, and sits back, and he’s my friend again.

I stare at him, shocked.

“Edward’s not stupid, Bambi,” he says softly. “He’s going to walk into a place like this very aware that Romano wants him to have a good time. And women, in this world – unfortunately – are frequently currency for that sort of thing.”

I scowl a little bit. “So, did I make a fool of myself?”

“Nah, you were great,” he says, giving me a small smile. “Made me wish, very much, that I was Edward Marino for a moment.”

A smile finds my lips.

“But,” he continues, giving a little shrug and shooting his eyes to the business card in my hand, “I’d say to be very careful what you do with that card, babe. This isn’t some nice guy you picked up in a bar. It’s a mafia Prince. The rules are different here.”

“Okay,” I sigh, nodding, understanding. “Thanks, Frankie. I’ll be careful.” And Frankie’s right – I was feeling a little too smug, a little too victorious about this. But if Edward came in expecting a girl to throw at himself? Well. He got what he was expecting, didn’t he?

“Now,” Frank says, sitting up straight and giving me a grin. “Buy me a drink, pretty girl! You’re rich now, after all.”

“No way,” I murmur, clutching my money to my chest. “This is the first cash I’ve had to myself in months – this is for me!”

Frankie laughs and leans forward, pretending to grab for it, and I give a tiny shriek of protest, pretending to swat him away. But he just laughs, starting to climb over the bar – probably going to chase me for it, if I know him –

“Frank!” Andre barks, and we both freeze and turn to see him glaring at us from halfway down the bar. “Sit! Stay!”

I press my lips together to avoid the smile that desperately wants to break out. Frankie gives a little yip, like a puppy, and then laughs as he finds his chair.

“Should be in a kennel,” Andre mutters, shaking his head as he wipes the bar down, keeping it spotless as he always does. “Not in a bar like this.”

I just turn and grin at Frankie, who gives me a wink and then turns back to his phone.

And I tuck the business card and the money away in my bra, wondering passively…well, what to do with it.

Should I call Edward tonight?

Or do I…let it go?

I’m tired and eager for bed when Frankie and I get home from work that night, but, unfortunately, Christian’s waiting for us. I groan as I come through the door and see him sitting there at the kitchen counter, a full glass of whiskey waiting by his hand and a half-empty bottle next to that.

Christian just glares at me, not even pretending that I’m wrong about my assumption here: that he’s up waiting for me, that he’s going to yell at me, that it’s going to be about the phone number still stowed away in my bra.

“Welp, I’m off to bed!” Frankie quips when he pushes the door shut.

“Frank!” I gasp, spinning to look after him as he strides down the hall. But he just waves to me over his shoulder, letting me know that this is my problem and mine alone.

I glance around, looking for Nico, Violetta – anyone.

But damn it, I’m alone with my best friend.

I sigh, turning back to Christian.

“Give me it,” he says, beckoning me forward with a wave of his hand.

“Give you what?” I snap back, even though I know he means the phone number. I cross my arms over my chest and glare.

“Whatever he gave you,” Christian says, sighing.

“Oh, you want my tips now?” I say, saucy, but I uncross my arms and walk over to him anyway.

Christian just glares at me. “I don’t want you calling him, Iris.”

“Too late,” I say, shrugging and reaching out to pick up his glass of whiskey. I take a nice long sip, watching him as he processes my lie.

Christian just narrows his eyes for a moment, assessing me. “Liar,” he murmurs, his mouth twisting up in a little smirk.

“God damn it,” I say with a sigh, and a little laugh that I can’t help as I put his glass back down on the counter. “How did you know?”

“You get a little furrow,” he murmurs, pointing towards my eyes, “between your brows. Like you’re trying too hard. Concentrating.” I shake my head at him as he leans back a little, his smirk deepening. “Now hand it over, Iris.” He holds his hand out, palm up.

I sigh and dip my hand into my shirt, producing the money and the business card with Edward’s number, slapping them into his waiting hand. “Do you realize what a conundrum you’re creating for me here, Christian? Your dad ordered that I cater to each of Edward’s whims. And he told me to call. And now here you are, telling me not to.”

“Edward, is it?” Christian says, separating the business card from the bill and holding the money back out to me as he tucks the card into his pocket. “You guys are first name now?”

“What, are you jealous?” I sigh, snatching my money back from him and tucking it back into my bra. Not that it will do me any good, anyway – it’s not like I ever go anywhere that I can spend it.

“I understand your position, Iris,” Christian sighs, looking up at me and then knocking his foot against the stool next to him, pulling it out a bit in an invitation for me to sit. I do, letting my shoulders hunch in my exhaustion. “I’ll have a conversation with my father, let him know that Edward isn’t a good match for you. Tell him to give him one of the other girls.” He pours a little more whiskey into the glass and pushes it towards me, offering it – a peace gesture, I think.

I lift the glass and sip from it, studying Christian closely. “You say that too easily, I think,” I murmur, tucking the glass of whiskey beneath my chin. “He can have this girl instead of that one. Like we’re things to be traded, bargained with.”

Christian nods, not denying it. “It’s the way of this world, Iris,” he says quietly, leaning against the counter and studying me. “I wouldn’t have it this way, but it is. I wish you’d let me protect you from it more than you have.”

“You mean lock me up.”

“Yes,” he says softly, leaning forward and staring deeply into my eyes with his grey-blue ones. “Lock you away safe from the scum bags who want to break you, Iris.” He shakes his head. “You met one of them today. You’ve met another in my father. What you should do is let me cut and dye your hair, change your name, and stick you in a condo in Lisbon for six months until everyone forgets you.”

I smirk at him, shaking my head and taking another sip of the whiskey, not minding, really, the way it’s starting to fuzz my brain. “You just want to see me as a redhead,” I murmur, closing one eye and studying him blearily.

He laughs, reaching out and letting his fingers twist in one of my blonde curls. “No,” he murmurs. “I like you just like this, Daisy.”

“Christian?” We both sit up straight, and twist a little, to see Violetta standing at the door.

I go very still, because I’m very, very aware that the direction of her eyes has landed singularly on the tips of Christian’s fingers twisted in my hair.