Chapter 26
CHANTEL
The notification on my phone alerts me to Cristian’s arrival just before the front door opens, and he catches me red-handed.
He closes the door behind him, locks it, and takes in the scene before him.
“What are you doing?” He stares at the slab of watermelon, string cheese, and popcorn on the coffee table.
“Eating dinner?”
“That’s not dinner,” he grumbles.
“It’s girl dinner.” I toss a piece of popcorn into my mouth. “This is usually about as exciting as it gets around here.”
“And what’s happening with this?” He gestures at Goliath, who’s currently sprawled across my lap, giving Cristian the stink eye.
“I think he’s jealous. He doesn’t like to share my attention.”
“You do realize that’s supposed to be a guard dog,” he says dryly.
“Yes, and what does it look like he’s doing? Guarding me, obviously.”
Cristian sets down his keys and pulls out his phone, making a quick call to let Pepe know he can come pick up Goliath.
“Well, that was rude,” I tell him when he hangs up.
“You and Pepe will have to work out a custody agreement. He’s been texting me asking when he can have him back.”
“Well, who can blame him?” I scratch Goliath’s ear. “He’s just a love bug.”
Cristian mutters something about him being a love bug who can rip out a man’s throat as he walks into the kitchen. A minute later, I hear things clanging around, and I get curious, so I venture in there to see what he’s doing.
“Where did those come from?” I frown at the pot and pan on the stove.
“I bought them,” he says. “Your cupboards are shockingly bare.”
“I’m not a very good cook.” I shrug, hating the vulnerability in my voice. “I can toss a mean salad, though.”
Cristian glances at me, and I’m pretty sure he’s wondering about my past again, but I’m grateful he doesn’t ask.
“Come here.” He gestures for me.
“What are we doing?” I eye him skeptically.
“Making dinner.”
“You know how to do that?”
“Have you met Nonna Vitale?” He arches a brow at me. “Learning was mandatory.”
“Well, I think it’s nice she taught all of you.”
Nobody in my family was around to teach me except the housekeeper, and she wouldn’t even let me help.
“Here.” Cristian hands me a bowl of cherry tomatoes. “You can start by washing those.”
“These must be from the island?” I ask, recognizing the bowl.
He nods. “We’re particular about our tomatoes.”
I wash them while he gets water boiling, and when that’s done, he summons me over to the stove.
He stands behind me, the heat of his body penetrating mine as he instructs me.
I hate to admit it, but there’s something so attractive about an incredibly competent man. It also doesn’t hurt that he has the patience of a saint, especially when it comes to me.
He directs me with a calmness that relaxes me, and before I know it, I’m learning how to blister tomatoes.
The sauce is deceptively simple, with only five ingredients, and it smells amazing.
When the pasta’s done cooking, Cristian adds that to the pan and lets me stir before he plates it up.
“Is that it?” I ask, feeling like we must have missed some steps because that wasn’t difficult at all.
“Good food isn’t that complicated,” he says. “But there is one last thing.”
My eyes light up like Christmas when he grabs the burrata I didn’t even notice he pulled out.
“You’re weaponizing my weakness,” I groan as he tears it in half and adds each piece to the pasta to melt. “This feels downright pornographic.”
“Only you would say that about cheese.” He presses me against the counter, twisting his fingers in my hair and angling my head back.
“Not just cheese,” I answer a little too breathlessly. “You and burrata.”
“If that’s your kink, I guess we can make it work.” His lips coast over my throat, torturing me with kisses that get progressively more feral.
“If you keep doing that, we might not even make it to burrata.”
He nips my neck, and I let out a yelp that makes him laugh. Then he smacks me on the ass and tells me to eat my dinner.
It all feels weirdly domestic, and a few months ago, it definitely would have freaked me out. But now, I could think of worse things than a hot Italian man teaching me how to cook.
As we sit down, I connect to my Bluetooth speaker and scroll through my Lana Del Rey playlist, selecting one of my favorite songs.
A few seconds later, the haunting lyrics to “Hope is a Dangerous Thing for a Woman Like Me to Have” drift from the speaker.
It plays for a minute before Cristian reaches over and steals my phone, and I watch in confusion as he scrolls through the same playlist.
He chooses a different song, and it takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, our gazes collide.
It was no accident he chose to play Lana’s “Video Games” instead. They are two very different vibes—one about how perilous hope can be, and the other about the possibility of happiness with the right person.
I get the message, but neither of us acknowledges it.
We eat a quiet dinner together, and after Pepe shows up to collect Goliath, Cristian catches up on a few emails while I read.
Eventually, we end up back in my bed, with him inside me.
It all feels sort of dreamlike. Almost too good to be true.
But I guess that’s the thing about gut instincts.
They rarely steer you wrong.
A violent crash jolts me awake, followed by the sound of blaring alarms.
It takes a second to register that it’s not a dream, and when I open my eyes, I catch a blur of movement in the room.
Cristian is already up, yanking on his pants, gun in hand.
I sit up in a panic, dread prickling my skin as my gaze drifts to the hallway. An orange glow flickers across the wall, reflecting what looks like a fire in the living room.
“What’s happening?” I choke out.
“Put this on.” Cristian tosses me my robe as I scramble across the bed.
He edges toward the bedroom door, tension drawing his muscles tight. After a quick glance down the hall, he turns to face me, and I know it’s bad.
In that split second, I realize I’m about to lose everything.
“We have to go,” he says.
I’m shaking so badly, he has to help me with my robe, then he grabs a blanket from the bed and wraps that around me too.
Before I can even try to stand on my own, he lifts me into his arms, and I cling to him. But as he heads for the window, my gaze settles on the nightstand.
“Wait,” I cry out. “My music box.”
It’s the only thing I can’t replace, and Cristian’s focus is so intense, I’m not even sure he hears me. But my heart floods with relief when he turns around and lets me grab it.
Down the hall, more glass shatters, and someone calls out for Cristian. When he opens the bedroom window, one of the guards is already there, and it sounds like another one’s trying to get in the front of the house.
“What the fuck happened?” Cristian growls.
“He must have found a blind spot during the shift change,” the guard answers. “We have men on the ground trying to track him. He came in on foot.”
“Did you get a visual?” Cristian asks.
“Just a flash of dark clothing.”
Cristian lets out a frustrated breath as he lowers me out the window. Once I’m safely on the ground, he jumps out behind me and picks me back up.
As he carries me around the side of the house, we find two other guards trying to contain the fire from outside the living room windows. One has a hose, and the other has a fire extinguisher, but it looks like a lost cause.
“Try to save what you can,” Cristian tells them as we pass by. “I’m taking her to a secure location, then I’ll be back.”
The men reply, but I don’t hear what they say. All I can do is stare in horror as I watch the life I built go up in literal smoke.
Cristian does a quick sweep of the car before he opens the door and settles me into the passenger seat. When he sees the devastation on my face, he lets out a rough breath and crouches down in front of me.
“I know it doesn’t feel like it right now.” He takes my hands in his. “But everything’s going to be okay, piccola. Let’s just get through one thing at a time.”
I find myself nodding along as numbness sets in, though I’m not sure how any of it’s going to be okay.
Regardless, Cristian drives me to the marina.
An hour later, I’m on Black Stag Island, secured behind the fortress of the Vitale family estate.
It’s late, so the house is quiet, and Cristian takes me directly to his wing. As he leads me down the corridor, I realize we only made it as far as a guest room the last time we were here.
Tonight, he takes me to the primary suite, and it looks like something straight out of a gothic fairy tale.
Black trim frames the dark green walls, where metallic tree branches climb toward the ceiling inside dramatic arched wood panels.
Moonlight spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a moody, dreamlike atmosphere. Dark wood tables, ornate gold mirrors, and raven motifs give the space an Art Deco feel that I can’t help but love.
Intricate vine patterns are etched into a set of French doors, where a brass telescope stands nearby. And at the center of it all is an emerald velvet wingback bed that has to be the biggest one I’ve ever seen. It dominates the room, a sleeping throne fit for the Raven King.
“Not what you expected?” Cristian murmurs, watching me as I take it all in.
“I bet you’re really missing sleeping on the sofa right about now.” I force some levity into my voice, because if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.
A shadow of a smile passes over his face as he wraps me in his arms and cradles my head against his chest. “You’re safe here. Nobody will ever get to you behind these walls.”
I swallow and nod, knowing that’s true. The Vitales have guards on patrol, gated security, and men ready to kill on sight.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Cristian’s lips ghost over my temple. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
We linger there for a moment before he pulls away and heads for the closet. When he reappears, he’s wearing a black hoodie, sweatpants, and running shoes.
It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen him, apart from when he’s working out, and I can only assume he plans to get dirty—or bloody.
I’m not sure if his men caught the stalker, but I guess I’ll find out when he returns.
He asks me if I need anything else before he goes, then tells me not to wait up for him. But I already know I won’t be able to sleep.
On his way out the door, I call out to him.
“Hey, Cristian.”
“Yes?” He glances back at me.
“Please…be careful.”
Warmth flickers in his eyes as he nods, then a moment later, he’s gone.
I sit there for a few minutes longer, listening to the rustling of the wind in the trees outside. There wasn’t time to grab my phone, and it feels weird not having it.
With nothing else to do, I decide to explore as a means of distraction.
Drifting down the hall, I take in the Cathedral-like architecture with its arched ceilings and ornately carved columns. It’s a long, gallery-style corridor with dark hardwood floors and deep emerald green walls—a color that soon becomes a hallmark of his wing.
I pass by several more bedrooms, an office, and two additional guest bathrooms before the space opens up to a kitchen and a dining area. It’s an intimate setting with warm, polished wood and a faint scent of cedar and espresso.
Beyond that, there’s an open concept living area with marble floors, jewel-toned sofas, and ambient lighting that casts a soft glow over the space.
Along the back wall, I find my favorite feature, a Gatsby-esque bar reminiscent of a high-end speakeasy. The walls are a throwback to the jazz-age with pops of green, geometric trim, and a gold-framed liquor display.
I never would have assumed Cristian and I would have such similar tastes, but here we are. The man is full of surprises.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I startle at the question, whipping around to find Mariella in her pajamas.
“What are you doing here?” I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She smiles. “Cristian thought you might need some company.”
“Oh.” A wave of guilt crashes over me. “He didn’t need to wake you.”
“It’s okay. I heard you had a rough night.”
I shrug, not really wanting to talk about it, which Mariella seems to understand.
“It really is beautiful,” I answer her earlier question.
She glances around and nods. “He renovated it a few years back. I thought it was strange he developed a sudden affinity for green. But now—” She pauses to look at my eyes. “It makes more sense.”
“I’m sure he just likes the color.” I swallow.
“Mmhmm.” Amusement threads through her voice. “Have you seen the best part yet?”
“What is it?”
“The library.” She gestures for me. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
When she leads me over to the corner of the room, I’m about to ask her if she’s lost her sense of direction. But then she pushes on a panel of the wall, and it slides open, revealing what is hands-down the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.
I step inside the observatory-style library, staring up at the domed glass overhead.
There’s a panoramic view of the night sky, a million glittering stars casting a soft glow over the room. For a minute, all I can do is take it in, wondering how I never knew this was a part of the estate.
“A reader’s paradise,” Mariella says. “Or in my brother’s case, a stargazer’s paradise.”
I can’t help but laugh at that remark. “That explains the telescope in his bedroom.”
“He knows all the constellations and the mythology behind them,” she explains. “If you ever want to learn about famous nebulae, aurora forecasts, or black holes, he’s your guy. He’s been fascinated with astronomy since we were kids.”
“I knew he was secretly a nerd,” I muse. “A very bossy, hot one…but still.”
“I’ll take your word on the last part.” Mariella crinkles her nose.
My eyes roam over the curved floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, noting that he’s made a good dent filling them. But one half of them appears to be intentionally empty, and I can only assume he reserved that space for his future wife.
Beneath the endless rows of books, there’s an oversized round cushion that takes up most of the room. It’s layered with blankets and throw pillows, and it looks too cozy to resist.
I flop down onto the cushion, staring up at the stars while Mariella joins me.
“This is magical,” I murmur.
“It’s pretty cool.” Mariella yawns.
The two of us settle in, letting the conversation slowly fade, until eventually we both drift off.
When I wake again, it’s to the low cadence of Cristian’s voice as he thanks Mariella and tells her goodnight.
I blink up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, relieved to see he’s okay.
“Did you find him?” I ask.
“No.” He closes the wall panel and comes to join me. “But we will.”
There’s an undercurrent of tension in his response that makes me wonder what he’s not telling me. But before I can ask, he assures me we’ll talk about everything tomorrow.
He settles in behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist as he pulls me close.
I’m not quite sure how it happens, but one minute I’m soaking up the warmth of his body, and the next, he’s fucking me like it might be the last time.
It isn’t long before I understand why.