by Alice Ward
Cristiano looked at me like I was a person he’d never met, one worthy of reverence, like the Pope or a saint.
“It can come in handy,” I finished, then furrowed my brow. “How did they get in?”
“Look at their clothes.”
I stared at what he referred to. “Janitors? They dressed up like janitors?”
“Apparently so.”
I rolled my eyes. “Cristiano, I know you swear this is the safest building around, but…”
“I know.” His mouth was set in a grim line. “I know.”
Maybe the new owner would tighten up the place, I thought to myself.
Sirens sounded down below, loud enough to give away that they were on our block.
“Your mom,” I said. “You should call her.”
He was already nodding and pulling out his phone. I held my breath while it rang, not able to focus on anything other than the men in front of me and Cristiano’s tight jaw ticking.
Finally, he let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God,” he said into the phone. “You need to leave your apartment right now. I’m sending my driver to pick you up. I’ll explain when you get here. Just go. Leave everything.”
He hung up and quickly made another call to his driver.
“Go meet the police,” I told him when he finished with his second phone call. “I’ll stay here.”
Cristiano hurried to the front door. I sat on the edge of his desk, my attention still unwavering from the goons.
“No English, huh?” I asked Shorty.
He didn’t even look my way.
The taller man started groaning and moving around a bit. He would likely be in for a killer headache once he woke up, but it served him right.
What if I had woken up five minutes later. What if my mom kept me on the phone to force me to listen to the latest neighborhood gossip.
There were too many what ifs. The truth was, I’d come down the hall just in time. Cristiano was safe and alive. I couldn’t let myself think about what might have happened if things fell into a different order.
I heard the police arrive and put the gun down on the desk then stepped away from it as they entered the room, not eager for them to see me brandishing a weapon.
They followed their protocol, taking the men away and asking me more questions than I felt was necessary. I gave them the whole story as I sat on the couch with Cristiano, the whole scenario mirroring the night I’d sat there with Florentia, desperately terrified over Evie and Cristiano’s well being.
Florentia arrived with wide eyes. Cristiano went to her immediately and took her into an embrace, the scene warming my heart. I didn’t know the full extent of how he was feeling about his mom, but the talks about not being able to open up to forgiveness suddenly seemed so far away.
Detective Noels arrived, making the scene really resemble a deja vu moment. I repeated the whole story again, trying not to get frustrated. The night was getting thicker, and both my head and hand ached. I’d pressed a bag of ice onto my swollen knuckles, but the contents had mostly melted and the condensation was getting all over my lap and the couch.
“Thank you, Miss Daniels,” Detective Noel said. “I’ll talk to your boyfriend now.”
“Great,” I said, trying my best to sound like I meant it.
He went to where Cristiano stood at the window talking to one of the cops. A moment later, Florentia took his place.
“Are you all right?” she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I closed and opened the fingers on my left hand, testing its dexterity out. “Of course, now I’m going to have to do everything with my mouth, but you know… whatever.”
I was trying to make a joke in an effort to shake the ill feeling in my stomach, but it did no good. The saga we’d just endured was supposed to be over with. These two men appearing in Cristiano’s apartment was an added segment that just shouldn’t exist. And what had they wanted, anyway? A ransom?
Florentia shook her head, staring at the floor as she did so. “They found us. I had prayed they never would, but they have.”
I stared at her. “Wait. What? Those men…”
“They are not with the same ones who kidnapped us. They were speaking Turkish,” Florentia explained.
“How do you know?”
“Cristiano told me while you were speaking with the detective.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered. It was just like my initial hypothesis upon discovering the truth about Cristiano’s past. “So they’re from Cyprus? Who are they?”
Florentia shook her head. “Perhaps they will confess.” Her lower lip trembled slightly.
“It has to do with your husband, doesn’t it?”
“It only can.”
I sighed. “But why? Why you and Cristiano? You two aren’t even involved in Cyprus politics.”
“Yes, but my husband’s family still is. An assassination of one of their own would be seen as a very… good blow.”
I leaned back against the couch, letting my head fall into the welcoming cushions. “This is insane. It’s like, when it rains it becomes a hurricane.”
“Yes,” she softly agreed.
My phone buzzed from the coffee table. I picked it up to read the text from Evie. Got the car! It delightfully exclaimed. The attached pic showed the new hybrid Cristiano had bought her.
Looks great, I wrote back, then left it at that. No way was I going to add that Cristiano and I were almost just murdered. I would call her later, once the police cleared out, and drop that bomb.
The interviewing seemed to go on for hours. Finally, they were all gone, save for the one officer left to watch Cristiano’s floor. Florentia ambled down the hallway to sleep in the main guest room, and I sat on the couch, the spot I’d been glued to for what seemed forever, and stared out the window at the building across the street. Lights twinkled on, dancing here and there like faeries. Surely everyone across the way had a life much simpler than my own. Surely they weren’t looking over their shoulders every minute, waiting for the next blow to come.
I found Cristiano in the kitchen, one hand clutching the side of the counter as he watched the tea kettle heat up.
“Hey,” I softly said.
He jerked then turned, looking surprised to see me. “I was just making you some tea. How’s your hand?”
I held it up for his inspection. “Not great, but not bad. I’ve had worse.”
He lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nodded down at my right shoulder.
He smiled a tiny bit, but it was pretty clear he didn’t find anything about the situation humorous. “How about some more ice?”
“Sure.”
I climbed onto the nearest stool, fumbling a little bit thanks to my condition, and waited while Cristiano filled a fresh ice pack. He rested it on the counter, next to my hand, and then went to the stove to grab the whistling kettle. He picked out a mug and a tea bag, then poured the steaming water.
The whole time he kept his eyes diverted from mine. The air between us sat heavy, dragged down by a yet to be spoken pain.
Cristiano set the cup of tea next to me and sighed before turning his eyes up at the ceiling. “I wish…”
He didn’t go on, but I didn’t press him. Instead, I just watched him, giving him the space to speak in his own time.
His words came thick. “I wish I could offer you better things.”
Obviously, he wasn’t talking about material things.
“It’s not your fault, Cristiano.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, I know that. That doesn’t change how dangerous simply knowing me has become. It’s hard enough to worry about myself, but to be concerned about everyone around me, every minute…” He shut his eyes.
My throat ached. “Cristiano…”
His eyelids flew open. “You could have been killed tonight.”
“So could you. You almost were.”
“And you saved me,” he agree
d. “But I can’t put you in any more danger.”
Panic rose in my chest. “Wait. Are you dumping me because of this?”
“Don’t call it that, Blaire.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered. My head pounded, the noise so deafening I couldn’t put so much as two more words together.
“I can’t have you getting hurt.”
Suddenly, I was furious. “I saved you tonight.”
“And that was incredible,” he said, his voice serious. “That idiot just happened to put his back to the doorway. But what if he hadn’t? We both might be dead.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that.
Cristiano went on, his voice low and soft in that way that usually turned me on but now only made me beside myself with pain and anger. “I love you too much…”
“It’s my choice, Cristiano. It’s my life, and if I want to spend it risking my safety next to you, then I can. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I know.” He solemnly nodded. “But I can leave. And you won’t follow.”
I stared, flabbergasted, at him. “Leave? What are you talking about? Where would you go?”
“Those men who came here tonight were sent by family rivals in Cyprus. Detective Noels just called before you came in. He told me what I already suspected. They were here to assassinate me.”
“And? What…” I sputtered and tried again. “What does that have to do with you leaving?”
“My father was an amazing man. It’s my duty to continue his work. I’m going to Cyprus. I’m going to meet my family there, learn everything I can about their work and my father’s legacy… and I might stay.”
I choked on air. “Stay,” I murmured, just repeating the word. “Stay…”
Cristiano’s throat worked up and down. “It will be dangerous for me there.”
“Then don’t go,” I nearly shouted.
“But it will also be dangerous for me everywhere. Now that people know who I am, life might get even more dangerous for me. I might as well do some good with my name.”
“You do good now.”
“Oh Blaire,” he said so softly I could barely hear it. His gaze fell to the floor. I stared at his hand resting on the counter, less than a foot from mine. He’d made no move to touch me, and I could tell he was holding himself at a distance. I ached to reach out and touch his hand with my own, but I held myself back, partly in shock and partly afraid of him rejecting my advance.
“I’ll go with you,” I said, already knowing he would shoot that idea down.
“No. Of course you won’t.” He lifted his eyes to me. Laid across them was something I’d never seen before. A hardness. A facade had been put up. He was never letting me in again. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Hot tears formed in my eyes. At another time I would have forced them not to fall, but I no longer cared. My heart was breaking in two, and the man responsible was standing right in front of me. Let the whole world be witness to my pain. To pretend that it wasn’t happening would only make it hurt worse.
“What about Florentia?” I gasped.
“I’m going to move her out of here. To a small town. Somewhere where it will be hard to find her. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but she’ll have to change her name, of course…” His face got steely, matching the look in his eyes. “I hope you’ll take my advice when I say you should do the same.”
“What?” I hissed. “That’s, like, the witness protection program.”
“It’s the best way to keep you both safe. I’ll pay for everything, of course. I’ll rent you a place, set you up. Now that you’ve been seen with me, my enemies know how much you mean to me, Blaire. I’m so sorry, but you won’t be safe in Chicago.” The last word caught in his throat. He shook his head and looked down. “I’ve ruined your life.”
“You’ll ruin my life if you leave me behind,” I fiercely said.
A new life. One in a small town in the middle of some random state like Oklahoma or Georgia. What would I do? Who would I see? Would I be able to see my friends and family, or even talk to them ever again?
“I’m not leaving Chicago,” I nearly shrieked. “Or, if I do, it’s with you.”
His jaw ticked, and his nostrils flared.
“I’ve been in dangerous situations more than once, Cristiano,” I seethed. “Don’t think I don’t know what it means to put my life on the line.”
“You are so… petulant.”
“And so are you!” I slammed my left hand down on the counter then winced as pain shot through it.
He gritted his teeth, his cheeks growing red. “I… will… not… risk your life, and that’s the end of this discussion.”
He spun on his heel and stomped away. Halfway across the kitchen, he stopped. When he spoke again, it was to the wall. “I’ll sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight. You can have my room. It’s best if we… get ready for the separation.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
e
I stayed on the couch that night. Cristiano’s bedroom was too full of memories for me to even enter it.
The whole apartment was haunted, of course, but the bedroom we had shared even more so.
After grabbing a pillow and blanket from the linen closet, I set up camp. Instead of sleeping, though, I merely sat there, staring down at the bruises forming on my knuckles.
My head was clouded, nothing floating around in there but a thick, impenetrable fog.
I was in shock, not able to believe what was happening. So this was what I got for falling in love with a man who seemed bigger than life. A hard smack in the face.
What would I go back to once Cristiano was gone? I’d quit my job at Michael’s PI company. I would have to stop volunteering at the orphanage now that it had joined the list of sites sure to elicit a crying fit from me.
I wouldn’t leave Chicago. I knew that much. What little I had was important to me. My mom. Evie. They needed me. Especially if those people who had ever been involved with Cristiano in any way were to become targeted.
Eventually, I fell asleep. When I woke I was curled up in a ball, my injured right shoulder cramping underneath my weight. I groaned and sat up. The soft and hazy beginnings of morning were shining in through the windows. Somewhere, someone was waking up to the best day of their life, welcoming the morning and singing its praise with every cell of their being. But I was doing the opposite. I was cursing the first day of a long string of days that would become the most painful period in my life.
I couldn’t make him stay. I couldn’t make him take me. This wasn’t warfare. I couldn’t hold him at gunpoint. I couldn’t chain myself to his jet in an act of protest and stop it from taking off. No, this was way more complicated than any situation I’d ever faced. There was no easy answer.
Maybe there was no answer at all.
A noise sounded down the hallway, and I stood up, eager to see Cristiano.
It was Florentia, though, coming into the living room looking just as tired as I probably did.
“Could you not sleep?” she asked, her eyes falling down to the pillow and blanket on the couch.
I rasped an incoherent response. Even I didn’t know what I was trying to say.
Florentia’s brows furrowed as she slowly stepped towards me.
“Cristiano is leaving,” I cried. “He’s going to Cyprus.”
Florentia sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. “I should have guessed he would.”
I shook my head pathetically. “He won’t take me with him. He wants me to stay. He wants me to go into hiding. You too. Did he tell you any of this?”
“Not yet, but I am not surprised.” Her lips pursed. “He is so like his father. Never could I have guessed how much like him he would be.”
“Then maybe you know how I can convince him to let me go with him.”
Florentia sighed and dropped onto the couch. “Blaire…”
“There’s no way?” I could feel my bottom lip trembling like I was a baby, but honestly, I did
n’t feel like much more than just that.
“He is very hard headed. I know that much having been with him for such a short time.”
“Yeah,” I bitterly said, sitting down next to her. “He is.”
“And so are you.”
I looked at her curiously. “Huh?”
“You can argue with that?”
“No,” I admitted. “But he’s one-upping me on the stubbornness. It’s not like I’m going to hop a plane and follow him across the world… although I would if I could.”
“Tell him that.”
“I did,” I sadly said. “I already did.”
“He loves you too much, Blaire. He’s not going to put you in danger.”
“I know. He already told me. There has to be something I can do… some way I can convince him that… that…”
“That your life is not worth it? That, if you die, he will be able to go on?”
I stared at her, thinking for the first time about the real possibility of my death.
“How would you feel?” Florentia asked. “If he died because of something happening in your life?”
I didn’t even have to think about that. “I would never forgive myself.”
A long silence followed, during which there seemed to be nothing left to say. Florentia patted my knee and stood up before shuffling back down the hall without another word.
I stared at the floor. This was it. This was the end. Me and Cristiano. The best thing I’d ever lived through was over so I could keep on living.
The floorboards creaked. I looked up, wondering if Florentia had more to say, but she wasn’t there. Instead, Cristiano hovered in the doorway, dark circles under his eyes, his hair un-brushed.
I wanted to run my hands through the unruly waves, scrunch my fingers in their ends. They’d always been a source of joy for me, but seeing them now made me feel like I was about to throw up.
Cristiano took a slow step towards me and my stomach flipped.
He stopped walking but kept his eyes on me. I stared back, wanting to look away, wanting to end the pain, but not being able to. Would this be the last time I gazed at him? Would this be the memory I carried around with me for the rest of my life, a sad replacement for the picture I held of the first time I saw him?