Chapter 17
CHANTEL
I spend the rest of the night locked in my room, trying and failing to fall asleep. I can’t stop replaying what happened at the club—or wondering what’s transpiring there now.
It’s giving me emotional whiplash, but it shouldn’t.
The writing is on the wall, and the best thing Cristian can do is stay out of my life. Physical separation is necessary at this point.
When I hear him come in after midnight, I hold my breath while I stare at my bedroom door. I hate this kind of ambiguity, and it only gets worse when he keeps his distance for the night.
In the morning, I sleep later than usual and take a long shower, hoping to avoid him entirely. Unfortunately, when I walk into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, he’s at the table working on his laptop.
I breeze past him, avoiding eye contact, but I can feel his gaze on me as I pour myself a coffee and grab a granola bar. As I’m walking out of the kitchen, he calls out to me.
“There’s breakfast for you in the fridge.”
“I don’t want it.” I swallow. “Why are you even here? Can you please just…go?”
I hate that my voice wavers slightly on that last part, revealing a vulnerability I’d rather not.
“No.”
His response is quiet, but firm, and I don’t have the energy to argue, so I go back to my room and lock the door.
I spend the rest of the afternoon prepping for work, then I leave without a word.
When I arrive at Black Velvet and head to my dressing table, the place is still nearly empty. I’m relieved to see there’s nothing waiting for me, but that changes the moment I open my makeup bag.
Tucked inside, there’s a familiar envelope, and when I open it, my blood runs cold.
It’s a picture of me leaving my Pilates class yesterday, and in the background, three men have their eyes scratched out. They’re all wearing similar clothing, and I suspect it means Cristian’s guards aren’t just keeping an eye on my house. They’re also following me in public.
The fact I didn’t notice is slightly alarming, but so is the message on the back of the photo.
I won’t let him have you.
The words blur together as I get caught up in a spiral, reading them over and over. I’m wondering if I somehow imagined them, but I didn’t. They’re real, just as all the other messages have been.
When I hear some of the other dancers coming down the hallway, I crumple the evidence and toss it in the trash.
As the night goes on, I’m not sure I fully recover. My nerves are shot, and I can’t stop searching the crowd, worrying about who it could be.
Cristian didn’t show up for this evening’s performance, but I’m fairly certain he sent a few of his men. They’re at different tables, and they aren’t watching any of the acts. They’re keeping an eye on the other customers, probably trying to figure out the same thing I am.
I hate that it makes me feel better, but it does.
I don’t want to need Cristian. I don’t want to need anyone. But part of me knows this isn’t something I can handle alone.
After the show, I opt to skip social hour and change into my regular clothes to go home. I can’t shake this anxiety, and it only gets worse when I get a phone call from an unknown number.
I answer without speaking, then hold my breath as I wait.
“Chantel?”
The air in my lungs rushes out on an irritated sigh. “Marco?”
“Did you seriously get me banned from Black Velvet?”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but it’s safe to say Cristian had a hand in that too. When I don’t respond, he continues his rant, reminding me how much he loves the sound of his own voice.
“I just want to see you so we can talk. You won’t even give me the time of day—”
“Exactly,” I bite out. “Take the hint, Marco. It’s over. I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to talk to you. Just leave me alone, and move on with your life.”
I hang up, and he immediately tries to call back, but I silence my phone and ignore it.
When I get home, Cristian isn’t there, but Mariella’s waiting for me on my front porch with a bottle of wine.
“Figured you could probably use some company,” she says.
“He asked you to come, didn’t he?”
She gives me a subtle nod. “He doesn’t want you here alone. I don’t either, if I’m being honest. And not because I doubt your capabilities.”
“I know.” I unlock the door and step inside, stopping short at what I see. “Umm…what the hell is that?”
“Our cousin Pepe’s dog.” Mariella laughs.
“Why does he look like the Terminator? And why is he in my living room?”
“He’s a Cane Corso,” she explains. “They’re excellent guard dogs.”
“Are you sure he’s not going to eat me?”
“No. He only eats people when we say the magic word,” Mariella deadpans.
“What’s the magic word?” I side-eye her.
She covers her mouth, leaning in so only I can hear it. “Stavros.”
“Seriously?” My brows shoot up. “Your family really hates the Greeks, don’t they?”
Mariella shrugs and summons the dog. “Goliath, come.”
The beast ambles over, and Mariella introduces us. After some sniffing, he determines I’m not a late-night snack and lies back down on his bed.
“I don’t really know what to do with him,” I admit. “I’ve never had a dog.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Mariella says. “Cristian already fed him, and his men will walk him at allotted times.”
I nod, though I’m not sure about interacting with the guards. But the dog is already here, and admittedly, it makes me feel a little better.
Mariella and I sit and drink some wine, chatting about nothing in particular. Eventually, I start to doze off, but I wake up when I hear the front door opening.
Cristian walks in, and a heavy silence hangs in the air until Mariella finally breaks it.
“I’m going to head out,” she tells me.
“Are you going back to the island?”
“No. I’m staying at the penthouse tonight.”
I’m tempted to tell her I’ll go with her just so I can avoid Cristian, but I don’t.
“I’ll walk you out.”
Cristian doesn’t look happy with that plan. In fact, he seems downright irritated.
At some point during the night, he took off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his tie. My mind is quick to supply a reason for his appearance, but if this is what he looks like after sex, I can’t imagine it was very good.
“He’s in a mood.” Mariella confirms my thoughts once we’re on the porch. “Him and Angelo have been bickering like crazy.”
“Why?”
“Something to do with a deal they’re working on.” She hitches a shoulder. “They’ve both been on edge, so it must be important, whatever it is.”
I nod, wondering if it has anything to do with Jolie. Then I decide it’s better I don’t know.
“Well, thanks for hanging with me.” I offer her a sleepy smile. “Sorry I wasn’t more lively.”
“No apology necessary. I’ll see you this weekend.”
We say our goodbyes, and I venture back inside the house.
Even though I’ve been home for a while, I didn’t have a chance to go through my nightly routine with Mariella here.
I’m also more anxious than usual, so it takes me longer to check the door and windows.
I feel Cristian’s gaze on me while I do it, but I avoid looking at him altogether.
It isn’t until I’m sealed inside the privacy of my room that it feels like I finally take a breath.
This tension is unbearable, and there’s only one way to get it off my mind.
Saturday can’t come soon enough.