Chapter 99

“Yes, Iris,” Christian replies, his voice low and dangerous. “There are still ways to protect you. Even here, at the end of the world. I wish you’d just let me.”

“Fine,” I say, my voice too light, too casual. Christian narrows his eyes, trying to figure out my game. I lift my drink to him in a little toast and then down the contents, scowling a little at the way it burns my throat.

“Iris,” he sighs, shaking his head at me. “What are you doing?”

“Outdrinking you,” I say, looking at him innocently. “Which is rude, Christian. As the host, you should at least go drink for drink with me.”

He smirks at me, slowly taking his own glass in his hand and raising it up to eye-level. We’re both well aware that I poured him at least double the contents of my own glass. “Really, Iris? This is your plan, get me drunk so I start talking?”

“Yup!” I say, grinning cheerfully.

He laughs, shaking his head and then – to my surprise – downing his drink. Then he stands and moves to the counter, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and bringing it back to the table, placing it in the center. “Pour away, then, Marion Ravenwood.”

I grin at his reference to one of my favorite film characters of all time, and then I do as I’m bid, pouring us a second glass of whiskey. Still, when that’s done, I arrange my face into serious lines. “Why won’t you just tell me the truth, Chris?” I ask, my voice hardly higher than a whisper.

He opens his mouth, but I interrupt.

“Please,” I say quietly, leaning back on my chair and raising my glass to my mouth, letting it rest just below my bottom lip. “Don’t…don’t pretend that it’s just for my safety, okay? I want to help, even if helping is just…listening.”

He sighs out a long breath, holding my gaze. “Telling you this stuff, Iris? Really letting you in to all the levels of secrets?” he shakes his head. “There’s no way out.”

“Who says I want a way out?”

“I want you to have a way out,” he says, leaning forward, his eyes locked on mine. “The way I wish I’d had a way out. The way out my mom tried to give me when she took me away when I was a baby.”

“Christian,” I say, leaning forward too. “If you’re here, this is where I want to be. Now that I know where you are, that you exist?” I shake my head like it’s the plainest thing, simple as breathing. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

He leans back, away from me. Like the words are…too much, once spoken aloud.

But now that they’re out there, I don’t want to take them back.

“You want me here too,” I say softly, holding his gaze. “I’ve always been here. Those emails, Christian? You could have stopped reading them at any time. You wanted me here, by your side – even the ghost of me.”

“You can’t kill a ghost,” he murmurs.

“Can’t hold one, either.”

We both stare at each other after I say that, and my stomach twists at my own audacity. Because…what the hell did I just admit?

But I just tilt my glass up, taking a sip of my whiskey, going deeper in.

Because, I mean, at the end of the world – what the hell else is there to do except put all of your chips on the table?

“Tell me, Chris.” It’s a command now, not a request.

He stares at me for a long moment. And then, without preamble, he obeys. Begins. “It’s bad, Iris. I disobeyed a direct command from my father, who ordered me to leave you to them. I wasn’t kidding when I said he could kill me for it. He might.”

My eyes go wider, but I just steel myself, ready to hear more. Christian continues, but his words are a bit stilted, like he hasn’t put together all the details in his mind yet. I push him a little, guiding him, asking about what’s going to happen next. What Nico and Frankie are going to do. That question, to my surprise, he answers with alacrity.

“They’re going to…pick a side,” Christian says, looking down at his drink, a muscle flicking in his jaw.

“Really?” I ask, my voice breathy, my brows going up. “And…wait, are you serious? They wouldn’t choose you?”

“My side is the losing side,” he snaps, unintentional, moving his eyes up to meet mine again. “Against my father? With no resources? We’re kind of at sea here, Iris,” he continues, gesturing towards the ocean outside the windows. “Literally as well as figuratively. Nico and Frankie – they’d be smart to go to my dad’s side, to join up against me. I am…a losing bet.”

“You’re never a losing bet, Chris,” I reply, soft. And I mean every word of it. Christian – he was a latecomer to this world, but by all measures he’s more than proved himself capable. I wouldn’t bet my last dime against him.

Christian sits for a long moment, holding my gaze, I think seeing the faith in me. But then, to my surprise, he drops his head again. “Iris,” he murmurs. “Can we just…stop for now?”

“What?” I ask, sitting up straight, confused.

He sighs and looks at me again, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you everything,” he says, and I can see on his face that it’s a promise – that he’s let me in, and that he will tell me. But suddenly I can see it – that he’s completely exhausted. “But can we just…take the night? To rest? And start again on it tomorrow, after we’ve had some coffee?

Instantly, I nod, agreeing – seeing that he needs it. That he’s spent hours in the car while I’ve slept worrying about this – and that all he wants and needs right now is a break from it.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I – I didn’t think. But of course we can talk tomorrow –“

“Iris,” he murmurs, and then stands, moving close to me and cupping my cheek in his palm. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You…you went through so many horrible things. All because of me.”

“Well,” I say on a sigh, smiling up at him a little. “Lets…not talk about that either.”

He smirks at me. “Detente, then?”

“What’s that?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at him.

“A pause, a break,” he says with a sigh. “A breather, for lack of a better term.”

“Okay,” I say instantly, agreeing to it. Not because I want or need to stop – but I can tell that he really, really does. Still, I narrow my eyes, pointing a finger at him even as I hold my half-drunk glass of whiskey in my hands. “But you’re not off the hook here, Romano. Once we get coffee tomorrow, I’m getting my details.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, his lips lifting at the corner in a little smirk that makes my stomach stumble over itself. I smile back at him - I can’t help it.

And then I sigh and look around the room. “So, what do we do in the meantime? Do you have like…Scrabble?”

I turn back to Christian when he laughs at me, low and light. “Is that what you want to do tonight, Iris? Play Scrabble?”

And slowly, I grin at him, because that is certainly not at all what I want to do.

But I’m not sure I’ve had enough whiskey yet to tell him what it actually is that I want to do.

I’m not sure there’s enough whiskey in the world for that.

But…well, a girl can try.

I reach out and grab the bottle between us, pouring a little more into his glass and then mine. “Drink up, kiddo,” I murmur. “If you don’t have Scrabble, we’ll just have to find something…else to do.”