Chapter 82

I stare at Christian wondering if that’s…well, if that’s a question? Or…an invitation.

Because I haven’t let my mind go to the other thing that happened tonight – because it pales, absolutely, in comparison to the death of a man.

But now, as I stare at Christian, as I look at him looking up at me, as I let my eyes wander over his face and take in the gorgeous lines of it, his steady blue eyes, his full lips…

God, but I remember. I can’t help but remember, because the memory is in every atom of me now. Christian, with his arms tight around me, his mouth moving over mine, bending me to his will, telling me with every ounce of bone and sinew and muscle in his body that I’m his, and he won’t let anyone touch me, never, never –

“I think Bambs is tired,” Frankie replies, casually, for both of us. But when I look up at him, I see him studying me, his face serious. And I blush again.

Christian sighs and gets to his feet as Nico looks between all three of us with a frown.

“Bambs probably has the right idea,” Christian murmurs, not making a move towards his bedroom. Or mine. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, thinking. I stand perfectly still as well. Only Nico moves, his head still swiveling between us.

But then Christian’s phone, on the table between us, lights up.

“What is it?” Nico asks, leaning forward, his voice tense. “Is it one of our people telling us that…” but his voice goes still as he sees what’s on the screen and grimaces.

Christian sighs and leans down, picking up the phone. “No,” he answers.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning forward, wanting to know even though I’m too far away to see.

Christian doesn’t reply, but Nico surprises me by turning his head to me, a curious expression on his face. “Text message from Violetta,” he says. “Number 56, apparently.”

“What?” I breathe, shocked. “She’s still up?”

“I should have replied earlier,” Christian mutters, frustrated, typing something out on his phone.

I don’t respond that yes, he absolutely should have, and that if it were me he’d have one hell of a fight coming his way.

“Come on,” Frankie murmurs, giving my shoulder a little nudge, clearly indicating I should go. But Christian presses send and then drops his hand, his eyes going to me. I pause too, looking at him, silently asking if…

Well. If I should.

“Bambs,” Frankie says, confused.

Christian’s phone lights up again, this time a name on the screen instead of a text message. And I realize that now that Christian’s responded, Violetta knows that he’s up. And she’s calling. And she wants a response right now.

But Christian…he doesn’t have to pick up, does he?

Not if he…

Christian glances at his phone for a moment, clearly putting together what I already have, before he sighs and drops it to his side again, lifting his eyes again to mine.

And a surge of hope pools in me. Because is he –

But then he shakes his head, and turns away, and lifts the phone to his ear as his finger presses the button to answer the call. I stare, shocked.

“Vi,” he says, his voice tired but confident. “I’m so sorry, babe – it’s been kind of a crazy night, I –“

But he doesn’t get any further as Violetta, quite reasonably, begins to shout at him.

“Come on,” Frankie says, his voice softer now, again nudging my shoulder. And I can’t help the way my head hangs, just a little, as I do as he bids and head around the couch, around Christian and Nico, and away to my room, every inch of me exhausted and…disappointed.

Frankie, to his credit, stays with me, opening my bedroom door for me and leaving it open as I wander in, my mind elsewhere – blurred by the whiskey, and the murder, and Christian’s clear choice a few seconds ago.

Because what else could I take that to mean? If he was done with her –

If he had really decided to…to admit to me that I’m the one he cares about...

Wouldn’t he have just let the call go to voicemail, and…I don’t know, do literally anything besides answer it?

I sigh, and slump onto my bed.

But Frankie doesn’t let me stay there for long.

He’s really gentle, murmuring softly to me as he pulls a set of pajamas out of my bottom drawer, and tucks them into my arms, and then makes me get up and head to my bathroom to get changed and brush my teeth.

When I come back into the room, Frankie’s already turned down the corner of my comforter and my sheets, getting it ready so I can just fold myself in like the filling in a little pita sandwich.

“You’re too nice to me, Frankinson,” I murmur, my feet tangling a little as I walk over to him and sink into the bed, tucking my legs in and laying down with my head on my pillow.

“Oh, I know,” he sighs, laughing a bit. And then, again to my surprise, he lays himself out at the end of the bed, bending one leg so that his knee points to the ceiling. “You doing okay? Tonight must have been…a lot for you.”

“I don’t know,” I murmur, shaking my head and meaning it. “Is it okay to…not know?”

“I think it makes perfect sense to not know,” Frankie replies, his voice soft in the dark of my room. We’re quiet for a long moment and he reaches out a hand, slowly starting to stroke my leg beneath my knee, and it’s comforting even if the comforter and the sheets stop him from actually touching me.

And I wonder, passively, if…well, if part of me wishes that he actually were touching me. Because Christian picked another girl a few minutes ago but…but Frankie is right here, by my side. Where he always is.

What, really, is holding me back?

“Okay,” Frankie says after a long moment. “I’ll let you sleep.” And he curls up to a seated position, heaving a sigh as he starts to get up off the bed.

“Frankie,” I whisper, and he pauses on the edge of the bed, turning his head to me.

And I bite my lip, wondering if I…if I actually should ask him to stay.

If he would, if I asked.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. And somehow, I know that he knows precisely what I want to ask him. But also, that he needs to hear me say it.

I’m quiet and still as I stare at his silhouette in the dark.

And then I speak before I even realize that I’ve made a decision. “Frankie,” I whisper, turning towards him a little more. “Will you –“

“Out, Frank.” Christian’s voice sounds from the door, breaking our spell and making me jump.

“What?” Frankie asks, turning in surprise. He, too, hadn’t realized that Christian was standing there.

How long has he been standing there?

“Out,” Christian replies, more forceful this time, stepping into the room and gesturing towards the open door. “Get some sleep. Need you in top form in the morning.”

Frankie hesitates for just a moment, turning towards me, but then he hides his sigh and nods his head, standing up and heading towards the door without another word. I sit up on my elbows, confused and curious, watching Frankie go.

And when his form disappears, I fix my attention on Christian.

I wait, anxious, to see what he’ll do next.

But all of my breath leaves me in a rush of shock when Christian pushes the door shut and comes to bed.