Frankie and Nico move quickly around the kitchen, assessing the supplies as I just stand here, looking down at my feet, trying to put the pieces of my reality back together. Apparently, I stand there for a long time, because before I know it Frankie’s pressing a hot mug of coffee into my hand. “Cr
“How much do you need?” he asks, his words quick. “What?” I ask, tilting my head. “How much?” Christian pushes, narrowing his eyes at me. “My people found out your address, Iris. I know where you’ve been living, what your rent is. I also know how much money a girl like you pulls in at a club lik
“Christian,” I say, pressing my hands to my chest and willing him to see the truth in every ounce of me, “I swear to you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am not intentionally keeping something back – if there’s something I’m missing? I don’t know what it is.” “Think hard, Iris,” Christ
“She’s right here,” Nico says, his voice a little angry. “She’ll tell you herself.” “Anthony?” I ask. “Oh my god, Iris,” he gasps. “Are you okay!?” “I’m fine,” I say, all in a rush, “seriously, I’m fine, are you!?” “I am – what the hell happened last night!? One second you’re counting cash,
Christian breaks our gaze first, clenching his jaw and glancing down at his phone. “I have work to do,” he murmurs, pushing off the counter and brushing past me, already dialing and lifting his phone to his ear as he walks through the door to his room. “Come on, Bambi,” Frankie says after a long m
“Pencil’s smudged left to right,” Nico murmurs, pointing at Steven’s notebook, which holds who-knows-what. “Frequently happens in leftie bookkeeping.” “Iris is right-handed,” Christian murmurs. He sits up then, handing the notebook to Nico, who explores it further. “Just because you didn’t write
“Christian!” I shout again, pulling the door shut behind me. He spins at the end of the hall by the elevator, worry all over his face as I hurry towards him. “Iris!” he says, putting a hand around my waist and tugging me close protectively, look around for whatever is attacking, “what’s wrong!?”
“Nico?” I say, as the sun starts to go down. He flicks his eyes to me. I flick mine to my cell phone. “I know I’m not supposed to ask,” I say quietly, “but can you please just tell me if my brother texted me? He’s…he’s not well. You don’t even have to tell me what it says – just…if he texted?”