Chapter 78

As we move away Christian glances around for cameras, but those that I spy are as old and defunct as the gas station parking lot in which we stand – powerless, probably not used in years. I glance back towards the road, where traffic continues to fly by, apparently not noticing the scene before them – the mafia don’s son left in a puddle, the two soaking wet people fleeing the scene.

Christian walks me around to the passenger side, quickly helping me inside the car before striding around to the driver’s side and climbing in himself, shaking his head like a dog to clear the water from his hair.

He starts the car and begins to drive, fast, pulling out of the dark parking lot without looking over at me, with one hand on the wheel and the other still clutching the tire iron. Neither of us say anything as we move quickly through the city. Instead, I watch him, watch him drive, watch him think through the situation, figuring out all the angles and how to get us out of this.

When we pass over a bridge, Christian surprises me by rolling down the window. But I understand when I watch him toss the tire iron out of the car, watch it disappear out into the dark and presumably into the dark waters of the river beneath us.

Then, as Christian rolls his window up, he starts to make some calls. The first is to Nico, who he tells to take Violetta home. Nico is on speaker, so I hear every word of his questions and his protest that it will be awkward. But Christian’s voice brooks no compromise, and eventually Nico sighs and says, “yes, boss,” before hanging up and apparently getting it done.

The next few calls are casual ones as Christian checks in with his family and his contacts, seeing if they’ve heard anything, casually dropping hints that he’s had a quiet night.

I lose attention then, half because I don’t understand the calls he’s making or his motives behind them, and half because…well, because I have to get my own head and heart together. I admit, I’m surprised when we pull into the parking garage at the bottom of our building - we’re home faster than I thought we would be.

But then again, time somehow seems to move differently now that my world has focused down to nothing but Christian, and a murder, and the fact that I’m at the center of it all. That Christian killed a man for me tonight, a man who was going to hurt me. A man who his father desperately wanted on his good side.

God, how are we ever going to get out of this?

As Christian pulls the blue car into a far spot beneath our penthouse, he makes a quick call to someone – I have no idea who – telling them to come get it and make it disappear. I press my lips to a thin line, realizing that Christian’s made a choice here, and that choice is to try to cover this up. I nod slightly, even though he’s not looking at me, supporting him.

He sighs, and slowly turns his head towards me for the first time since we got into the car. “This is really bad, Iris,” he whispers.

“I know,” I reply, my voice barely audible.

And then he nods to me, like that’s the only thing that he can do, and reaches for my hand. He squeezes it once before opening the door and climbing out.

I follow, curious, not knowing what’s coming next. “Come on,” he says, starting for the elevator and running a hand through his still-damp hair. “We need a plan.”

When we get into the apartment, Nico and Frankie are both waiting at the door, arms crossed, glaring at us.

“What the fuck happened?” Nico growls.

Frankie just goes pale, his mouth falling open a little as he takes in our soaked appearances, our grim faces. “Shit,” he whispers.

“What happened!?” Nico demands again as Christian puts a gentle hand on my back, further ushering me into the apartment as he shuts the door behind him.

I just sigh and hang my head, heading for the kitchen, letting Christian take control of this. Because frankly, I have no idea what he has planned, and this is obviously much more his area of expertise than mine. So while Nico and Frankie descend on Christian, shouting at him and demanding information, I just crouch low and pull a fresh bottle of whiskey from the bottom cabinet, standing and putting it on the counter as I move to the freezer to get some ice.

Christian, seeing what I’m doing, doesn’t say anything to Nico or Frankie yet and instead comes to the kitchen, standing at the counter in front of me and waiting patiently as I pour him a long dram and slide his crystal tumbler over the counter to him. I don’t give him any ice, knowing he won’t want it, but I put plenty in my cup before pouring my own drink.

“Do I need one of those too?” Frankie asks, leaning on the counter next to Christian as Nico continues to demand answers.

I don’t say anything, instead just meeting Frankie’s eyes as I take down another glass, pouring him his own drink and pushing it across the counter to him. He sighs, shaking his head, and lifts it to his lips.

I turn to Nico, raising both the bottle and an eyebrow, silently asking if he wants one too.

Nico just groans, and nods, and puts his elbows on the counter, and then his face in his hands, as I pour him his glass. “Is it really this bad?” he asks, his words blurred by the hands over his face.

I turn my raised eyebrow on Christian now, silently asking if he wants to answer that. Christian just sighs, lifting his drink to his lips. “Keep the bottle out, Iris,” he murmurs.

As Nico straightens up, taking a deep breath and reaching for the glass of whiskey I hold out to him, Christian begins. “We’re alone?” he asks, his voice steady and stern.

“Violetta’s home,” Nico murmurs, nodding. “She’s pissed, though – says you two had plans? That were supposed to start hours ago?”

“She’ll deal,” Christian murmurs. “She knows this world, she’s used to interruptions.”

“Still,” Nico replies, anger simmering under his words. “She’s expecting a call.”

Christian nods but otherwise ignores him. Then he takes a deep breath and, looking down into his glass of whiskey, says the words that could damn us all. “Edward Marino is dead.”

Silence reigns for a long moment before Frankie lets out a long moan, tilting his head back and slapping one hand over his eyes like he can’t believe it. I watch him, a little startled, as a long and steady stream of curses slip between his lips, horror and awe and disbelief tracing each one.

“What!?” Nico bursts out, his eyes wide enough that a complete circle of white rings his dark irises. “What the fuck did you just say!?”

Christian repeats himself as Frankie continues to curse, and then chaos erupts, with Nico asking a thousand questions at once and Christian trying to answer them all, the story getting all mixed up with the way that Nico, panicked, interrupts with his next question before Christian gets his words out. Frankie half listens and half groans again and again, standing straight and pacing in circles, downing his drink and then reaching for Nico’s, grabbing that too and drinking it down.

I watch it all, my nerves frayed, refilling Frankie’s glass and then mine when I reach the bottom and find that I need more – want more – want anything that’s going to wipe this fucking night away.

“Fuck!” Nico screams, and I go rigid when he kicks one of the stools on his side of the kitchen counter and sends it skittering across the room, slamming into the wall and knocking a vase off of the table by the door. “Fuck, Chris!” he shouts, his back turned, his fingers sliding through his hair and grabbing the ends of it like he’ll tear it out, like it’s the only action left to him.

“Nico!” Christian snaps, half scolding, half plea to understand.

“NO, Chris!” Nico shouts, turning back to us now, his eyes on Christian’s alone, his face angrier than I’ve ever seen it. “I’ve told you - a thousand times – that you’re too close to that fucking girl!” He points at me now and I take a step away, unable to help it.

“Shut the fuck up, Nico,” Christian growls, his voice reaching a dangerous register as he glares at his friend and bodyguard, the man sworn to protect him. “If you push this issue too far, and try to make me decide again between you and Iris? You are not going to like the side I take this time.”

Nico turns his glare to me, hate written in every line of his face.