Chapter 79

I stare at Nico, having no idea what to do next, when suddenly Christian’s words register with me.

Wait, what?

Make him decide between me and Nico…again?

When had Nico made him make that choice before?

But there’s no time to think on it as Nico looses an exhausted breath, drops his eyes from me, and lets his shoulders slump. “Fuck, Christian,” he says on his next exhale, shaking his head, obviously upset and overwhelmed. “What…what the fuck happened?”

“We’re going to figure it out, Nico,” Christian says, his voice stern and steady and reassuring.

Nico just raises his eyes, still shaking his head a little. “How the fuck are we going to do that?”

“Well, that’s what we’re going to figure out,” Christian grumbles, grabbing his glass and then reaching out to take the bottle of whiskey by the neck. To my surprise, he shuts off the kitchen light, heading into the living room and waving for us all to follow. Nico, Frankie, and I all hesitate, looking for a moment at each other, wondering what the fuck is going to happen next.

“Come on!” Christian barks, and we all start to move, gathering our glasses and trooping into the dark living room with him.

“Are you okay?” Frankie whispers, reaching out and putting a hang on my still-wet shoulder. I jump a little, the warmth of his hand reminding me that I’m still alive, and that I’m freezing.

“I’m okay,” I say to him, nodding, my voice a little shaky.

He gives me a worried look, like he’s not sure that that’s right.

But I give him a steady nod and gesture forward, urging him to join the group. So he sighs, and moves into the living room, grabbing a blanket off the couch as he goes and slinging it around my shoulders as I settle on a pillow on the floor, across from Christian. The four of us sit at the four sides of the coffee table like we’re in a little boardroom.

Christian begins to talk as he takes the cork from the whiskey bottle and begins to refresh our drinks, clearly indicating that we’ll need it. Nico, Frankie, and I stay quiet at first, letting him spill out the tale.

He starts from the beginning this time, without Nico’s constant questions interrupting. Christian locks eyes with Frankie, telling about how the two of them had planned for Frankie to attend the date with me, to ensure that nothing went down. Then he shifts his eyes to me, letting me know that Edward has a particular reputation with women – that he likes to be in charge, and that he can be rather rough.

“Why didn’t you tell me that from the start?” I ask, my eyes wide.

“Would you have even listened?” Nico growls, looking down into his whiskey.

“We hoped it wouldn’t get to the point where you needed to know,” Christian says, holding my gaze. But then he continues, saying that by the time Frankie reported that I’d left the bar without them, he didn’t have time to tail me. But Christian was already on the move, already in the car, and he was able to find and follow Edward’s distinctive sports car to the restaurant. There, he waited, telling Frankie to take the night off.

“Why did you do that, man?” Frankie asks, shaking his head and staring at Christian. “You know I would have come and swapped out with you – I’d have done everything you did. You didn’t need to bear this – it’s my job.”

I watch Frankie talk, hear the mournful notes in his voice, realizing that he does not like at all that Christian did the dirty work tonight. Because that, Frankie thinks, is his job.

And suddenly I don’t know what to make of that – does Frankie think it’s his job because he likes the dirty work? Or because he doesn’t think he’s worthy of anything else?

My heart sinks, but there’s no time to consider an answer before Christian responds.

“It doesn’t matter,” he murmurs, taking a long sip of his drink, not meeting any of our eyes. “I was already there, what was the harm in seeing how it through.”

“The harm,” Nico snaps, “beyond the obvious, is that you and Violetta had a date tonight, Chris. She was waiting for you, and then she got pissed. I couldn’t tell her where you were because I didn’t know, and even if I did I probably wouldn’t have!” He glances at me now, his habitual frown on his face, making me sigh.

Nico – god, why does he hate me so much? I mean, I know I’ve been trouble – caused trouble. But sometimes it feels…so personal.

Christian shakes his head, dismissing it. “Violetta knows this world –“

“Yeah!” Nico interrupts, his voice raising, spreading his hands out wide. “She does, Chris! And she’s going to hear that the heir to the Marino family died last night during the hours that you were supposed to be taking her out, and she’s going to figure out that you had something to do with it! God, it’s like, basic –“

“Enough,” Christian grinds out, and Nico huffs but falls silent. One by one Christian levels his powerful gaze on each of us. “Nico’s not wrong. And despite everything that happened, we need a plan.”

“Before we get to the plan,” Frankie murmurs, his head sunk in his hands again, “can you please finish the story?”

So Christian does, telling of how he saw Edward and me come out of the restaurant and everything that went down at the valet stand. I listen with interest, fascinated by how it looked to an outsider, but according to Christian it was an obvious disaster. Edward was coked out and drunk, and I was clearly terrified and looking for a way out.

My eyebrows raise when I hear that Christin, actually – not the valet – was the one who called the cab and had it arrive, hoping I’d put two-and-two together and climb into it. I smile at him, pleased that we were thinking along the same lines and grateful for his help, but he doesn’t change his expression. Instead, he just tells of how Edward shoved the valet and spit on him, and how he pushed me into the car and hit my head – and that’s when he “snapped,” in his own words.

I watch Christian carefully now – watch the way he hangs his head, the way he talks about himself like he’s ashamed. And I realize that he probably is ashamed – that there were probably a thousand things that he could and should have done instead of rescuing me, and facing a man with a loaded gun, and hitting him with a tire iron before going to get me out of the car.

That the first thing he probably should have done was…well, was let Edward have me. I’m a big nobody, after all – just some hacker’s girlfriend, an ex-stripper, a sub-par bartender at his father’s bar.

Christian’s father, after all, was willing to pawn me off on Marino to curry favor, even though he surely knows Edward’s reputation for being rough as well as Christian and the others do.

According to the rules of this world, Christian should have just let me go to Edward’s apartment with him, just let me be another woman that Edward abused for the night. Or, if he wasn’t willing to do that, he should have let someone else handle it – let Frankie come replace him, or Nico, or literally anyone else.

As I realize this, Christian slowly lifts his head until our eyes meet. And when his gaze locks on mine I finally figure it out.

Christian should have done a thousand other things tonight – taken one of a hundred other options laid out for him.

But he didn’t.

Because he couldn’t.

Because I am his, and his alone. His to protect, his to care for, his to hold.

And he’s not going to let anyone else take that responsibility from him – not anymore.

Christian watches me see the truth of him, every bit of it laid bare.

And for once, he doesn’t look away.