Chapter 88

I groan when I wake up, because my head aches a little, and I certainly didn’t sleep well. Too much agonizing about my romantic woes, followed by remembering my actual problem, of course – that I’m tied up in a mafia investigation for the death of the heir to a rival family.

Yeah. It doesn’t make for a great night’s sleep, does it?

I sigh, and haul myself up, running my hands through my hair. And then I glance towards the kitchen door, desperately wanting a cup of coffee before I even get started pulling myself together for work.

I slip my legs over the side of the bed and into my fuzzy little slippers, waiting there for me, and sneak over to the door, cracking it open and peeking out of it. I don’t even really know why I’m trying to be sneaky – something about not wanting to see Frankie or Christian this morning, having to explain why I went to bed so abruptly last night.

But I grin when the penthouse echoes with quiet, and slip out into the living room, and quietly pad towards the kitchen, my eyes intent on the still-cold coffee maker.

“Oh hey, Iris.”

I jump, giving a little shriek, spinning towards the couch where Nico is sitting, already fully dressed and grinning at me.

“Are you making coffee?” he asks, still grinning like a cat that’s caught a little bird and is quietly contemplating how he wants to play with it. “Why don’t you go ahead and make me a cup as well.”

I scowl, glancing back towards my room and thinking seriously about making a run for it, but Nico just laughs at me and I turn to glare at him before straightening my shoulders and moving into the kitchen without a word, pulling out the ground coffee and starting to make a pot.

As I work, Nico comes over to the kitchen and sits on one of the stools, watching me.

“So,” he says, turning his head curiously at me when I push the ON button and turn to him. “You’ve been a busy girl.”

“Cut it, Nico,” I say, leaning both hands against the counter and holding his gaze. “This whole villainous banter thing? It doesn’t look good on you.”

He grins, leaning forward. “This whole secret relationship with 66.6% of the men in this house doesn’t look good on you, Iris.”

“What, Nic,” I say, getting pissed now and losing my temper a bit. “Are you jealous? Want to make it 100%?”

He laughs a little, genuinely entertained, but then he just shakes his head at me. “You’re playing with fire, Iris,” he says, holding my gaze seriously. The humor falls away from his expression. “And in doing so, you’re causing a lot of trouble. For both of them.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I murmur, but then I drop my eyes, realizing that that’s…a little bit of a lie.

Because even though both Frankie and Christian are the ones who kissed me…I certainly haven’t been discouraging it, have I? If I told both of them to stop it, to leave me alone, to just be my friend – they would.

But I haven’t done that.

“Whatever,” Nico says, his voice dry, ready to move on. “Whether or not you’re trying to cause trouble isn’t really the point, Iris. The point is that you are causing it – and that you could seriously fuck up both Christian and Frankie’s lives if you don’t stop it.”

A sigh slips from between my lips as I look up to meet Nico’s eyes again, because I know that he’s right. “Fine,” I whisper. “I’ll tell them to stop.”

My heart aches at the idea, but I don’t have time to contemplate it – to figure out whether I’m upset at the prospect of cutting off the potential with Christian, or with Frankie, or…

“It’s not enough,” Nico says, surprising me, drawing my full attention back to him.

“What?” My voice is a little breathless with confusion.

He just shakes his head, slow. “It’s gone too far, Iris. It’s all gone too far. Christian has seriously risked his reputation with his family, with the entire mafia industry, by coming to your aid. And now that I know he did it because he has feelings for you?”

“Wait, how do you know he has feelings for me?” I ask, standing up straight.

“He was holding your hand, Iris,” Nico snaps, leaning forward to glare at me, his eyes narrow. “Christian has always been controlled, always been precise, and neat, and contained. And now, even though he’s got a great thing going with Violetta, he’s fucking it up to hold your hand on movie night?”

Nico shakes his head like Christian’s got it bad. And my eyes widen to realize that…he might.

Hope swells in me at the thought, and Nico sees it, and slams his hand down on the counter, making me gasp.

“You’re fucking shit up for him, Iris,” he growls. “Don’t you realize what he’s got on the line? And he can never be with you – never! So yeah, even if you tell him to stop, it’s not going to do anything. Do you honestly think he hasn’t already told himself to stop? Told himself to try?”

I scowl and turn away towards the coffee machine, my mind turning, guilt racing through me. Because he’s right – of course he’s right.

Christian tried to stop, and yet there we were – holding hands.

I take out the coffee pot and two mugs, pouring us each a cup. I turn, sliding Nico his cup of black coffee over the counter and moving to the fridge to pull out the cream, wanting it for myself. When I come back with it, Nico’s still got his eyes on me.

“And don’t even get me started on what could happen to Frankie if anyone found out –“

“Enough,” I snap, my voice low, bringing my eyes up to meet Nico’s as I pour cream into my coffee and reach for the sugar. “I get it, okay? Do you seriously think I’m so stupid that I haven’t thought of all of these things? That I wasn’t up all night thinking about how awful this whole situation is?”

“Well, if you know,” Nico says, his voice low, “then why the hell did you do it?”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” I growl, pissed at him now – pissed that he actually thinks that any of this was intentional, was me just being a selfish bitch, playing with their emotions.

But Nico leans away from me a bit, picking up his coffee cup and taking a long sip, studying me.

“I poisoned that,” I murmur, lifting my chin towards his cup, kind of wishing I had.

He smirks, laughing a little as he takes another sip and lowers the mug to the counter. But he doesn’t say anything. Just watches me.

“So?” I ask, lifting my own cup to my mouth, holding it between both of my palms. “Mr. I-have-all-the-answers, what should I do? If telling them to stop isn’t enough, what’s my next move?”

“Honestly, Iris?” he says, looking at me for the first time like I’m a person and not a problem he’s got to solve. “Do you seriously want my suggestion for how you can make this better?”

“Yes!” I say, standing up straight and putting my mug down hard on the counter, splashing a little coffee out with my vehemence. “Yes, Nico! If you have a plan, you should tell it to me now, because I’ve got nothing and apparently me continuing on the current path is going to ruin everyone’s lives. So!? What else have you got?”

He watches me carefully for a moment and then leans forward, his eyes locked on mine. “You should run, Iris,” he says softly, like it’s a secret. My mouth drops open. “You should run as far, and as fast as you can, and not tell anyone where you went. Don’t say goodbye to Christian. Or to Frankie. Just go, and don’t ever come back.”

I stare at him, appalled at the idea.

“And if you decide you want to be sensible,” Nico murmurs, still holding my gaze. “I’ll help you escape.”