Captive of my mafia crush
Chapter 9

Chapter 9

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I study Christian as I undo the clasp at my back, pulling my bikini top away and tossing it on the bed. Go d, I think, studying Christian as his back is turned, he got tall, and so broad.

I bend my knees, dipping down to undo the clasps of my shoes as I think that his size is not the only change. In so many ways Christian is a complete stranger to me. The way he talks to Frankie and Nico, for instance – he’s so icy. I mean, they’re all good-looking guys the same age, but it’s completely obvious who the boss is.

How does he manage that, such raw power? It’s so different from the charismatic, funny, easygoing guy I knew growing up.

I straighten up, stepping out of my shoes and quickly shimmying out of my g-string bottoms. Onto the bed they go as I grab for the shorts, stepping into them.

“So, if Nico’s your cousin and your bodyguard,” I ask, pulling the shorts up and smirking when they go up past my waist, “what’s Frankie?”

“Frankie’s not family,” Christian replies after a moment, as if deciding how much he wants me to know. “But he’s as good as. His family is…connected. And I’ve known him basically as long as I’ve been out of touch with you.”

“Oh,” I say, my eyebrows going up as I grab the sweatshirt and pull it over my head. “So…they’re like…your friends.”

“I don’t have friends,” Christian says, fast. My heart sinks to hear him say that.

“You’ve got me,” I say, and I don’t miss the way his shoulders go a bit stiff. “You can turn around now,” I add quietly.

Christian does turn, looking me up and down before a smirk replaces his face. “You look…”

I shrug, laughing a little. “Like I’m drowning in fabric?” I hold up my arms to the side so he can see that they’re not long enough to stick out the ends of the sweatshirt.

He laughs, stepping forward and beginning to roll up one of the sleeves so that my hand emerges. “You look like a tiny mouse,” he corrects, his voice soft. “Why didn’t you grow more?”

“Oh, I think you did enough of that for both of us,” I say, grinning as I have to literally bend my head back on my

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neck to look up at him. He smirks again, but it doesn’t last long- almost like his lips can’t hold the smile.

Christian moves to my other arm and I let him, even though I’m obviously capable of rolling up my own sleeves. Just…something about letting him do it for me.

I don’t know. I like it.

“Christian,” I say softly, and he hums a little in the back of his throat, inviting me to ask. “Do you ever check your

old email?”

He goes still for a second before he gives the fabric one last roll and drops my arm. “No,” he says, definitive, a little abrupt. “Why?”

I shrug, looking down at the floor. “I sent you…a couple of emails when you first moved away,” I say, which is…a massive understatement. “We missed you, you know. Why didn’t you ever write back?”

Christian is silent for a long moment, and I look up again, meeting his eyes.

“I don’t know what you think my life has been like since I left home, Iris,” he says quietly, his voice so melancholy that it breaks my heart. “But it has not been…easy. There was no part of me that wanted any of my new life to touch you, or Damon. It’s not that I didn’t care – I just…

He shakes his head, staring at me. I don’t blink as I look into those familiar blue eyes, wishing he’d never gone away and built these new walls between us.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, nodding to him and pushing the sleeves of the sweatshirt up above my elbows. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Christian sighs again like that’s not the whole story, his eyes falling as he takes a step towards me. But then he goes still and frowns, leaning forward again to stare at my arm. “What’s this?” he murmurs, gently taking my wrist and turning my arm so he can peer at the inside of my elbow.

“What?” I ask, looking as well. “Oh,” I say, a little surprised to see a bruise starting there, just above the crease. “Well, that’s new…”

“Those as sholes,” Christian grumbles, dropping my arm and raising his eyes to mine. “Bonetti’s men are always so needlessly brutal. I’m sorry, we’ll get you some pain killers

“It’s fine,” I say, crossing my arms and shrugging. “I’ve had a bruise before. And honestly, Christian, if you’re mad

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Chapter 9

about a bruise you don’t want to know what else they were planning-”

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“Iris,” he says, looking at me hard. I shut my mouth, stopped a bit in my tracks. “I know what they were planning for you. All right?”

I nod, a little bit of the night’s earlier fear coming back to me. Because, I mean, it’s one thing to make a joke about it but if I really think about what they were going to do

to

me…

saving me.” I stare up into his eyes, tears welling in my

“Thank you, Christian,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “For saving me.” I stare own, not really knowing how to feel.

Christian sighs and takes another step towards me, cupping my face in his palm for a second before wrapping me in a hug. “Don’t thank me just yet,” he murmurs, pressing me close. “You’re still stuck in this world, which is the last place I want you to be.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and return his hug, clinging to him a little.

Christian breaks the hug first. “It’s late,” he murmurs, slowly letting me slip out of his arms. “Are you hungry? You should go to bed.”

“Um, I could eat,” I say a little awkwardly as I take my arms from around his neck and glance not really knowing what to do next.

ound the room,

“I’ll bring you a sandwich, and the pain killers,” he murmurs, heading for the door. “Get some sleep.”

He doesn’t even glance back at me as he goes, closing the door behind him. I stand for a long moment, looking at that closed door. But then I sigh and head for the bed, slipping in and wrapping my arms around my knees as! wait for Christian to return, my mind spinning over the events of the night.

I’m still staring into space when the door opens again. I sit up straight in surprise and disappointment when I see Frankie standing there with a plate and another bottle of water.

“Hey,” he says, “can I come in?”

“Of course,” I reply.

Frankie walks over to me and hands me the plate, the door drifting shut behind him. “You all right in here? Need anything?”

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“I’m okay,” I say, glancing behind him. Honestly, I’d expected Christian to come back….

“He’s…a little swamped tonight,” Frankie says, interpreting the direction of my gaze. “Don’t take it personally, okay? He’s got a lot to clean up after everything that went down at the club.”

“Oh,” I reply, feeling guilty. He said I wasn’t bother, but I knew I would be- and I absolutely hate that.

“Hey,” Frankie says again, firmer this time, making me look up into his face. “None of that,” he says, shaking a finger at me and giving me a smile. “You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want you to be, all right? There are plenty of other safe houses where he could have dropped you. So just don’t overthink it. Eat up, get some sleep, and we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

I stare up at him for a second before I smile, just a little. “You’re really nice for a mobster, Frankie.”

Frankie bursts out laughing at this, straightening up and giving me a pleased grin that lights up his handsome face, “Nico’s mean enough for both of us,” he says with a wink, turning towards the door. “Someone’s got to be the angel to his devil.

I smile after him – can’t help it and when Frankie pulls the door shut after himself I pick up my sandwich, taking a bite and laying back against my pillow.

Because if Frankie’s the angel and Nico’s the devil….

Then what the hell is Christian?

And where on earth do I fit in all of this?

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