“Aren’t we supposed to stay one step ahead of things?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Leave that to me. But,” Christian says, his eyes returning to the phone in my hand, “there’s a…language app on there. Prepaid, for a year. For…French.” My spine straightens suddenly, my eyes flashing up to his wit
“Hooooly crap,” Christian murmurs, staring around the main room of the penthouse as he slowly closes the door behind him. In the kitchen I press my hands together, thrilled with the changes and hoping, desperately, that he likes it too. “I hate it,” Nico says, standing stubbornly in the middle o
“No touching until we all come to the table,” I say, glancing over at Nico, who sits stubbornly on the couch. “Nic,” Christian calls, his voice low with warning. “Get over here.” “I don’t really see the point in playing happy family,” Nico snaps, not even looking at us. I shake my head at him, w
“Ut-oh,” Frankie mutters, his mouth full of bread roll. “What’s going on?” Nico sits up straight to, his focus singularly on Christian now. I find myself doing the same. Christian takes a deep breath and looks around at us before focusing on me. “You’re coming to the house tomorrow,” he says, hi
I’ve always been an emotional eater, after all. And if I eat when I’m anxious? Then this morning, I’m probably going to eat the rest of this whole damn cake. “Cake for breakfast?” a voice asks, and I almost jump out of my skin, spinning towards Christian with the knife in my hands. “Don’t scar
Christian sighs, lifting his eyes again to mine and answering me honestly, I think. “They’re…women I date. Women who understand who I am, and what their role is in my life. And who are…compensated. In the form of very nice dates, and even nicer gifts.” “Oh,” I say, honestly kind of impressed. “Wow
“You do?” I ask, turning to him, my eyes sweeping over his very simple sweatshirt and pajama pants. Nico turns to me with a smirk, lowering the garment bag a little. “I mean, if you want we can let Frankie pick –“ “Nope!” I say, grabbing my coffee and hurrying to his side. “Which shoes am I brin
But Christian just laughs, turning to glance at me over his shoulder as Nico pulls out of the garage. “Don’t listen to him,” he murmurs, “I put the cash in a bank account for you, Iris, obviously. It will all be waiting for you, with interest, whenever you’re ready to spend it.” “Oh,” I say, my ey