Chapter 15
CRISTIAN
“I have to go out for a while.”
Chantel glances up at me with a guarded expression.
We’ve barely spoken since I brought her home last night, and realistically, I should have gone to Eden to check in afterward. But I didn’t want her worrying about her safety.
She doesn’t know my men have been watching her house, but she will tonight.
“Hot date with Tiffany?” She plays it off like a joke, but the fire in her eyes betrays her. “Let me guess, she wants you to bend her over her favorite dumpster?”
Her jealousy sends blood rushing to my cock, and I have the urge to tell her I’ll bend her over and fuck that attitude right out of her. Then I remember what’s waiting for me at the club, and the tension returns to my body.
“I thought you were supposed to be sex positive.” I offer her a dry stare. “Isn’t that the whole point of your column?”
“How do you know about that?” She blanches.
I choose not to answer that, because she doesn’t need to know how much information I’ve collected on her since she walked into our lives.
“For the record, I am sex positive,” she says. “But I’m not pro-fucking taken men, which is Tiffany’s favorite sport. Cheaters are going to cheat, but knowingly participating in that? Yeah, no thanks.”
Something tells me this isn’t just a matter of opinion to her. But Chantel’s trust issues run far deeper than cheating.
“Am I the taken man in this scenario?” I ask, knowing full well that isn’t what she meant.
“No,” she huffs. “It was a generalization. And I know it’s on the men, because they’re the ones who took the vows, but at the very least, a girl should have some standards.”
“Like you did with Marco?”
I regret the words when she shuts down and curls into herself. It was an asshole remark, but there’s still a part of me that can’t justify her reasoning, even though I know what it was.
“I wasn’t in the market for Prince Charming,” she says quietly. “I knew exactly what Marco was, and what he’d never be. At least…I thought I did.”
The shame in her voice doesn’t sit well with me, and I wish I’d never brought it up.
“He fooled a lot of people,” I tell her. “Including me.”
She nods, and a beat passes before I check the time on my watch.
“I have to go. There are guards outside the house, so you’ll be safe while I’m gone.”
“I don’t need guards,” she protests. “I won’t even be here anyway. I have plans with Lucia.”
Bypassing the conversation about the guards, I focus on the more pressing issue.
“What plans?”
“These conversations might be less exhausting if you just put a tracker in me. Then you’ll always know where I am.”
It’s tempting to tell her I already know where she is because there’s a tracker on her phone. But if she keeps arguing with me like this, I won’t make it to the club because I’ll be too busy employing a better use for her mouth.
“I’m not against the idea. Now tell me what you’re doing.”
She lets out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know. Dinner and drinks. Girl stuff.”
That’s way too vague for my liking, but ultimately, I let it go because I’ll have someone watching her regardless.
“Be good, Mrs. Vitale,” I call over my shoulder as I head for the door.
“Yeah, sure,” she quips. “Have fun on your hot date.”
“You’re late.” Angelo glances up at me from my desk.
“Something came up.”
“What, your dick?” He levels me with his signature stare.
“Where are they?” I ask, wondering why he’s loitering in my office.
“They’re down the hall with Olivier Rochefort.”
“The artist?”
Angelo nods. “He offered them a private showing of his latest work.”
“Didn’t trust me to handle the deal?” Irritation edges its way into my voice.
“The deal should have been wrapped up days ago,” he counters. “We’re not handing this partnership to Ares.”
I grab a glass from the bar cart and pour myself some whiskey. “I said I was handling it.”
“By handling it, you mean leaving out the important detail that Bastien requires a marriage contract with his daughter?”
I scrape a hand over my face as the suffocating weight of pressure bears down on me.
“I was negotiating with him.”
“He’s not going to budge on this,” Angelo says.
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
“He wants the alliance sealed through marriage. He made that very clear.”
When I don’t respond, Angelo sighs.
“What’s going on with you and Chantel?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“It concerns me if that’s what’s holding you back. You always said when you married, it would be a practical arrangement. So what’s changed?”
I toss back the whiskey in my glass in lieu of answering.
“We’re all depending on you,” Angelo reminds me, as if I didn’t already know that. “I can’t offer up Rafe or Michele now. Bastien wants you.”
A dull ache throbs at my temples as I collapse onto the sofa.
I’m aware of the stakes. The Vitales don’t bend the knee to anyone, nor do we willingly hand over valuable resources to our enemies.
This alliance benefits the Corsican syndicate equally, and if Bastien is sensible, he’ll take the deal as it stands. If he’s not, he’ll learn that leverage won’t work on me, no matter how long he drags this out.
“You can’t seriously think she has wife potential.” Angelo keeps at it.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Well, to start with, she’s a liability.”
My gaze snaps to his. “Say that again, and I’ll knock your teeth out. I don’t care what your fucking title is.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “It’s even worse than I thought. Has anything happened between you two?”
I ignore that landmine, so Angelo takes it upon himself to state the obvious.
“She was dating your best friend.”
“And your wife was engaged to our brother before you bled him dry.”
“Don’t talk about my fucking wife,” he threatens.
“I’ve made my point.”
He stares at me like he wants to say something else, but the door down the hall opens before he gets the chance.
“Keep him on the hook tonight,” he grits out. “We’ll strategize later, but for now, he needs to believe there’s still room to negotiate.”
We both neutralize our expressions as we step out into the corridor to meet Bastien and Jolie. The old man looks pleased after his meeting with the artist, but I doubt it’s moved the needle on his decision. He takes the time to get to know his potential partners, and he enjoys the process.
It’s practical, but at this rate we’ll probably be inviting him to Christmas.
“Cristian.” He inclines his head. “I hear you have something special planned for Jolie after we conclude our business.”
Angelo catches my gaze and gives me a subtle nod. Whatever the fuck this is, he arranged it.
“Our chef has prepared a meal for you while we speak with your father,” I tell Jolie. “I’ll show you to the lounge.”
“Perhaps Angelo can show her,” Bastien suggests. “I’d like to have a private conversation with you.”
Angelo doesn’t look remotely happy about this turn of events, but he agrees nonetheless.
“I’ll be downstairs when you’re finished,” he says.
Bastien and I take a seat in my office, and it’s obvious he has something on his mind. But he waits for me to begin, listening intently as I bring the focus back to what’s important.
I reiterate that this deal isn’t just about shipping access. It’s about power in numbers, expansion into new territories, and profit margins.
Reframing the negotiations, I remind him of our reputation and assure him that our word is our bond. It’s a quiet way of letting him know this doesn’t have to involve a marriage contract.
Bastien sits with that for a while before he responds.
There are times he can be difficult to read, but right now, there’s no question he sees my resolve. He addresses it the same way he approaches all business—subtle, but calculated.
“You know, Cristian, I feel as if we’ve come to understand each other. In many ways, you remind me of myself. Perhaps that’s why I like you so much.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He sips the whiskey in his glass, leaning back against the chair as he assesses me. “I’d like to share a story with you, though you may find it difficult to believe, knowing me as you do now.”
I nod at him, and his eyes grow distant as a wistful smile overtakes him.
“There was once a time in my life when I chose passion over logic,” he says. “Her name was Evelyne, and she was the kind of woman who could tempt a man into sacrificing everything.”
He pauses, losing himself for a moment in the memory. “My family told me she wasn’t cut out for our world, and deep down, I knew that. But I convinced myself desire alone could make it work.”
“I take it that wasn’t the case,” I remark.
“No, it wasn’t,” he answers solemnly. “Desire couldn’t keep her warm at night when I was fulfilling my duty to my family’s legacy.
She wanted more than I could reasonably give, and I needed something she couldn’t reasonably offer.
Eventually, she grew tired of waiting around, and I came home to an empty house. ”
“This life isn’t for everyone,” I concede.
“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “But that was another lifetime ago, and I have Dominique now. She may not make my heart race the way Evelyne did, but she’s right for me in all the ways that matter.
She knows what this world entails, and she doesn’t ask for more than I can give.
Politically, she’s an ally. If you saw the way that woman could charm an entire room, you’d be amazed. ”
“I don’t doubt it.” I scrape a hand over my jaw, keenly aware that this isn’t about Evelyne or Dominique.
It’s about me, which means he’s either discovered my proximity to Chantel through his own research, or his daughter told him about her.
“There’s a reason men in our position choose compatibility over distraction,” he says.
“We build empires on legacy. The woman who stands beside you will either solidify your foundation—or destabilize it. Dominique has given me four children and the freedom to do as I please. For that, I’d choose her again in every lifetime. ”
I meet his gaze, offering him a silent indication that I understand. Truthfully, a contractual partnership is what I always imagined for myself. But hearing him describe his marriage in such a way, it makes me question whether his wife could truly be happy with their arrangement.
She may be the woman he comes home to, but she’s also the woman who has to turn a blind eye to his affairs.
She’s the woman who, in his mind, will always be second best.
He told me this story with the intention of changing my mind. But it’s only given me another reason not to tie a noose around my neck.
“Shall we call for Angelo?” he suggests.
I nod, and after a quick conversation with Angelo, he tells us to meet him on the rooftop terrace.
When we arrive, I observe that security has halved the number of guests that are typically allowed up here. I suspect that was intended to reduce the noise, but it’s done very little in that regard.
Between the pool and the music, it’s still a club.
This wouldn’t have been my first choice for a meeting, but as we pass by the guests in bikinis, Bastien seems to approve.
Angelo directs us to one of the VIP lounges, and I grimace when I see what’s waiting there. Dozens of candles flicker throughout the space, casting a soft glow over an elaborate spread of wine and desserts.
“Oh, Cristian.” Jolie beams at me. “This is wonderful.”
Angelo skewers me with a look that indicates he wants me to play along—and also that he finds this really fucking funny.
“Enjoy yourselves.” He smirks. “I have something else planned for Bastien.”
“Oh?” Bastien eyes him curiously.
Angelo steers him toward another lounge on the opposite side of the roof. “How do you feel about vintage cognac?”
As they drift out of sight, I silently curse my brother and pull out a chair for Jolie.
She eyes the lounge seating instead and takes it upon herself to sit there.
“Come join me.” She pats the space beside her. “There’s no need to be so formal.”
I sit down, maintaining more distance than she’d probably like. A moment later, a server appears to pour us a glass of wine and serve Jolie dessert.
“It’s such a lovely night.” Jolie sighs. “You truly have a little piece of heaven up here. I can see why the club is named after Eden.”
I nod, though my only thought is, right now, it feels like hell.
It isn’t logical. There’s nothing wrong with Jolie. She would make any man in my position a good wife. But the appeal of choosing just anyone to fill that role has lost its shine. I think Jolie recognizes that, but she isn’t giving up without a fight.
As the night wears on, she makes her intentions clear. Her words take on a provocative lilt and a fire sparks in her gaze as she emboldens herself by closing the distance between us.
I think her father has underestimated her, but so have I.
This isn’t a passive decision for her. She’s cunning, perceptive, and she knows what she wants.
After a bottle of wine, she puts all her cards on the table.
Turning to face me, she tucks her legs beneath her and reaches out to touch my arm.
“I can see you still have some reservations about this arrangement,” she says softly. “And I’d like to put your mind at ease.”
When I don’t respond, she goes on to explain herself.
“A man like you needs a woman who brings you peace after a long day. Someone who understands how many demands you have already, without making herself another one.”
She skims her fingers over my tie, and I suppress my irritation when she traces a slow path down the length of my chest.
As she continues to talk, I weigh how quickly negotiations will end when I reject her.
“A true queen knows when to smile, when to speak, and when to act.” She peers up at me from beneath her lashes. “And most importantly, she knows how to treat her king when he comes home to his castle.”
She circles the button of my trousers, and there’s no question what she’s offering. But when she tries to slide her hand lower, I catch her by the wrist.
“You should be with someone who can give you what you want,” I clip out. “That isn’t me.”
Her smile falters, but she recovers quickly. “I think in time you’ll see you can give me exactly what I want, and I can wait. I’m a patient woman.”
I release her, and her gaze drifts to a familiar figure across the terrace.
“When you’ve tired of your other distractions, you know where to find me.”