Chapter 85

Romano begins the interrogation by snapping questions out at me, fast. I stumble through my answers, suddenly grateful that Nico put me through my paces this morning – made me repeat the story so many times that I could do it in my sleep. I realize, suddenly, that he was preparing me for this – and that Romano scared me on purpose, to ensure that I was off-kilter when I came in.

When I finish answering all of his questions, he asks them all again, faster this time – in different order - shouting them at me, pounding his hand on the desk. I answer all of them again wide-eyed and desperate for this to end. When he gets to the end of the questions again I stare at him, panting a little, not daring to look up at Christian for support.

I stare right back at the mob boss, hoping desperately that I did it right – that I didn’t fuck up any of my answers.

Romano stares right at me, his expression stony, before he simply waves his hand, dismissing me from the room. “Get the fuck out of here, you god damn simpleton,” he growls, shaking his head. “I’ll decide what to do with you later.”

My knees shaking, I turn towards the door, casting a desperate look towards Christian. He looks at me stonily too, his expression eerily like his father’s in this moment. But he gives me the slightest nod, letting me know it’s all right. And I quickly turn, and pull open the door, and stumble out.

After I press the door shut, still staring at my feet, trying to gather my wits back, I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear someone softly say my name.

As I whip my head up, Frankie laughs at me, gently – not unkindly, shaking his head. “Come on,” he whispers, offering his hand. My fingers shaking a little, I step forward and take it, and Frankie pulls me away from the office just a few steps, opening the door to the supply room and ushering me in.

Frankie pulls the closet door shut behind us, leaving us in the dark for a moment, but then he presses the button of one of those tap lights that Andre has installed under some of the shelves, suffusing the closet with a dim yellow glow.

I’m shocked, just slightly, as Frankie puts a hand on my shoulder, softly guiding me backwards until the back of my knees hit the little stool we keep here for emotional breakdowns. I sit, staring up at him, and watch in surprise as he crouches before me, dipping a hand into his pocket and producing – of all things – a little foil-wrapped chocolate that he holds out in his palm.

“Here,” he says. “It’s magic candy. It will fix you right up.”

I can’t help it – I laugh, my eyes crinkling at my strange and thoughtful friend who always, somehow, knows…just precisely what to do.

“Thanks, Frank,” I murmur, taking the little chocolate from him and unwrapping it with my still-shaking fingers. And then I slip the chocolate into my mouth, and close my eyes, exhaling deeply as the chocolate starts to melt on my tongue.

Frankie takes both of my hands in his, holding them lightly as the sweet taste of the chocolate sweeps through me, tasting just…so incredibly good after such an awful experience, being yelled at and interrogated by one of the most powerful and dangerous men I’ve ever met.

And even though I never thought it would be possible so soon after – a tiny smile finds my lips.

“There’s my girl,” Frankie says softly, squeezing my hands. “She’s back.”

My eyes drift open and I smile at him, moving what’s left of the chocolate over my tongue and swallowing. “How did you know?” I ask, laughing a little. “That…a little piece of chocolate was precisely the thing I needed?”

“Oh, it wasn’t the chocolate,” he murmurs, smirking at me, my hands still in his.

I turn my head, curious.

“It was the magic,” he whispers, his smirk spreading into a wide grin, making me laugh again. “And the really good-looking guy who gave it to you. That always helps.”

I laugh again, seriously charmed, and reach out a hand to cup his cheek. “What would I do without you, Frank?”

He shrugs, still smiling at me. “No idea. But, I don’t advise that you find out. Stick with me, kid. I’ll keep you steady.”

And I believe him – utterly. Frankie, he’s so funny and nonchalant, always with a joke. But he really is the steadiest presence in my life right now, isn’t he? And suddenly, with the taste of candy still on my tongue, I feel myself lean closer to him so that our faces are just inches apart.

And I tilt my head, my eyes sliding shut, my lips parting just…just a little, hoping…

But the door behind Frankie opens, and I never get to figure out whether or not he would have kissed me. Because I open my eyes, and Frankie turns, and we both lift our eyes to where Christian is standing. Frankie drops my hands.

Christian is still for a moment, and so are we, before he sighs and glances over his shoulder, quickly stepping into the closet with us. “I don’t have a lot of time,” he murmurs, stepping closer and crouching down next to Frankie. If he suspects, at all, what’s been going on, he doesn’t mention it. I guess Christian has bigger things to worry about, just now.

“How’d it go?” Frankie asks, wanting Christian’s opinion on the interrogation. I turn to him too, because I’m certainly in no place to answer.

“Iris was a mess,” Christian says, smirking a little and reaching out a hand to brush back my hair and then cup my cheek, just for a moment. My face falls, but Frankie laughs. “But your story held,” he says, nodding to me. “All the shaking and the falling apart – it kind of worked in your favor, I think. You were very convincing.”

“Really?” I ask, desperately grateful that it seems to have gone okay.

“We’re not out of this yet,” he whispers, holding my gaze. “But…step one, yeah? It’s done.”

Christian sighs, standing and moving towards the door. “I’ll see you at home, okay? And Frank – if Marino comes in, don’t let him talk to her.” He grabs the doorknob, only pausing to get confirmation from Frankie, who nods seriously.

“Why not?” I ask. Don Marino, I know, is going to want the most answers. Isn’t the easiest way to exonerate myself to tell him the story we made up?

“Because,” Christian replies, his voice a little grave as he meets my eyes. “Dad is still deciding what he wants to…do with you. And until then, he’s not showing his cards and doing anyone any favors. If he walks in? You get to the staff room, or down in the cellar beneath the bar, or…wherever. And just wait. Frankie will come and get you.”

“Okay,” I whisper, nodding, anxious again. Because what is there to…do with me?

I mean…I kind of thought…

God, I’m so naïve, but I kind of thought life would just go back to normal.

But there is no more normal, is there?

I sigh, and nod, holding Christian’s gaze. He gives me an apologetic little grimace before stepping out the door, closing it behind him. Frankie lets out a long-held breath and gets to his feet, offering a hand to help me up. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s go see if Andre has more chocolate.”

“You stole that chocolate from Andre!?”

“I steal everything from Andre,” Frankie says, giving me a clever little grin. I laugh, shaking my head at him, but I take his hand and stand up, pleased that my legs are steadier than I thought they’d be.

“You think you can finish your shift?” he asks, voice soft, standing close.

“I think so,” I reply on a sigh, smiling up at him.

And then Frankie completely shocks me by bending down and pressing just…the gentlest, softest little kiss to my mouth. Just barely a touch of his lips to mine – so simple and chaste that I’m undone by it. So fast that I’m not even sure it happened. I blink up at him, my eyes wide.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, unable to hide his smirk. “Couldn’t help it.”

And then Frankie turns, still holding my hand, and leads me back into the bar. I walk half in a daze, not knowing what to think or do.

“Christ,” Andre growls when Frankie delivers me back to the bar, lifting the wood up so that I can duck underneath. I look at Andre in surprise as he looks me up and down, taking in my stunned expression, my shaky steps. “What,” he says, crossing his arms, “did Romano get her drunk back there?”

“I’m not drunk,” I say with a scowl, straightening up and pushing past him. “Wish I was.”

Andre huffs a laugh, shaking his head, and pats me on my shoulder as I go. “Get to work, Bambi! You’ve put enough of a dent in my productivity with your boy drama, as I knew you would.”

“Your productivity is fine,” I say with a sigh, but I have to admit – I cut limes a lot slower than I did before I went into that office.