Chapter 86

I’m exhausted by the time Frankie and I get in that night, and a little relieved when I come through the door to see that Nico and Christian are already there, slumped on the couch. A smug little thrill of pleasure runs through me when I see that Violetta is again absent.

“Is there any whiskey left?” Frankie asks, dry, as he presses the door shut behind him, engaging the automatic locking mechanism.

“Nope,” Nico calls over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the tv. “Iris forgot to order more.”

My mouth falls open with a squeak as I pull my shoes off before I head into the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for one of the prepped meals that I put there. “Excuse me!” I protest. “All of you have phones and money – there is nothing stopping any of you from ordering your own whiskey delivery.”

“But you wanted to be our mom!” Nico calls. “Little miss caretaker! You’re slacking, Bambs!”

I laugh lightly, shaking my head, as I stand up with a cold tin of lasagna in my hands and head to the oven. I have to admit, though, that part of me is pleased that Nico’s started jokingly calling me Bambi too. Am I making inroads with my enemy?

Frankie comes into the kitchen with me, pulling beers from the fridge – that, we have – and pouring me a glass of wine that he leaves for me on the counter as I put dinner into the oven, passively wondering if it’s way too late to be eating lasagna but not really caring as my stomach growls. I quickly prep some garlic bread and broccoli – we need at least one vegetable, after all, with all these carbs – before I go into the living room and settle in on the couch between where Frankie sits against one arm and Christian lounges right where the two sides of the L-shaped couch meet. Nico leans against the other arm.

“You know we can just order food,” Christian murmurs, glancing over at me, letting his eyes drift over my body in an assessment to ensure that I’m okay.

I send him a little glare like that’s a ridiculous idea, when we’ve got so many of my heat-and-eat dinners stocked up, and he laughs. I smile, because it’s good to see him laugh. “Did…today go okay?” I ask quietly, anxious to know what our future holds.

Frankie turns too, wanting to know.

“It was all right,” Christian says, his voice tight as he turns his eyes towards the television, being vague in that way I hate, even though I know he’s probably protecting me.

Nico just rolls his eyes. “It went horrible,” Nico says, revealing the truth. My face goes a little pale. He waves a hand at me. “I mean, they’re not going to kill you, Iris – they bought your story. But Marino is not at all convinced that there wasn’t foul play here, and that our family wasn’t somehow involved.”

I look over at Christian for confirmation of this, and he just shrugs. “I mean, it’s not good,” he says, soft, his eyes still on the TV. “But it’s nothing we haven’t handled before. Just…stick to the story, hope no other evidence comes up.”

“And if it does?” I whisper.

Christian looks at me now, holding my eyes as he softly shakes his head. “You can’t live like that in this world, Iris. If you come up with a detailed plan for every possible contingency –“

“You’ll go crazy?” I supply, opening my eyes wide enough to let him know that I am clearly, clearly already doing that.

He breaks into a smile. “Yup.” Christian sighs then, dropping his head for a second. “Just…there’s nothing we can do tonight, right? So, let’s relax while we can. The story’s holding for now – we can’t freak out when things are actually going as planned. So, everyone just…have a drink, and cross your fingers.”

I do as I’m told, lifting my glass of wine to my lips and snuggling more completely into the couch, trying to relax. Frankie passively passes me a blanket, knowing that I’ll be cold, and Christian puts on a movie for us – something simple, untaxing, funny. When the oven beeps I get up and dish out the supper, bringing it in to my boys in the living room, and overall the night passes peacefully.

It is only after we’re all stuffed and on our second or third drinks that I notice that things are…cozier…than I expected them to be.

I’m slouched a bit on the couch, leaning against a large pillow close to Christian with my legs curled up to my side. And as I watch the movie I realize, after a long moment, that Frankie’s hand is resting on my calf on top of the blanket which is…no big deal, of course.

But then, as time passes, his hand slowly moves to the edge of the blanket. And then slips beneath it, and then comes to rest – warm and firm – on the bare skin of my calf itself. His fingers move slowly, gently massaging my muscle – which honestly feels great after a long day of running around the bar in my heels. Slowly, I extend my leg towards him, just slightly – encouraging him.

A little tingle of excitement runs through me because…well, because I like it. I like Frankie, and how good he is to me, and how sweet. And I liked it when he kissed me this afternoon, so simply.

But as I don’t protest the way that Frankie runs his hand over my skin – encourage him, if I’m being honest - I feel Christian slump down lower on the couch next to me, listing slightly to his right so that our shoulders just…barely touch.

And again, at the start, there’s absolutely nothing off about that – Christian and I are old friends, we’ve bumped shoulders before sitting on a couch and watching a movie. But as the movie continues, and as Frankie keeps his hand warm on my leg, Christian leans closer, more definitively towards me. And then his hand moves closer to mine, inch by inch, until the sides of our hands are touching.

And then until his fingers start to intertwine with mine.

And then, all of a sudden, Christian Romano is holding my hand firm in his, his thumb drifting idly over mine.

And Frankie is still touching my leg – moving boldly upwards, if I’m being frank. Not with any lewd intent, obviously, but clearly letting me know that his touch is not an idle accident.

And suddenly, quite suddenly, I fall into a complete panic.

Because when – when the fuck did I get into a love triangle with the heir to a mafia family and his bodyguard!? My body tenses, and Frankie glances over in my direction, but shifts his gaze back to the tv when I don’t react. Christian, if he notices, doesn’t make any changes, and certainly doesn’t let go of my hand.

I keep my eyes focused on the tv and take a small sip of my wine as, inwardly, I have a complete meltdown. Because what the hell am I supposed to do right now!?

What the hell is Christian going to do if he looks over and notices the way that Frankie’s hand disappears under the blanket at my feet?

What is Frankie going to do if he moves enough – which is not a lot! – to notice that my hand is firmly clasped in Christians!?

My mind whirs frantically, trying to come up with a plan, for some way to break out of this gracefully, when my eyes fall on Nico.

Who I realize is staring right at me, his mouth slightly open in shock.

And as the blood rushes from my face, he very deliberately moves his eyes first to Christian’s hand, and then to Frankie’s, and then back to my face.

I say perfectly still, trapped and caught, with absolutely…no recourse.

Nico continues to gape at me for a second before he starts to shake his head slowly from side to side.

And in that instant I know that I am caught.

And screwed.

Because if anyone is going to spill my secrets for his own means, it’s definitely, definitely Nico. And he’s got a big one now – which means that I am absolutely under his thumb.

Nico realizes this at the same exact moment I do, and he gives me a beautiful smile.