Chapter 32
CRISTIAN
“God, this is tedious,” Romeo groans. “If I have to read one more passage of his weird fantasies, I might actually lose my fucking mind.”
I scrape a hand over my face, silently acknowledging how monotonous this has been. The drive Ares handed over contained an entire year’s worth of documentation, and for the past six weeks, we’ve been combing through every detail that might lead us to Elias.
Our men have raided apartments, boats, storage units, and several vehicles—only to come up empty. All we’ve managed to learn is just how deep Elias’s delusions run.
He obsessed over everything from what color Chantel would paint their walls to how many blueberries she ate on any given day.
Books she read, meals from her favorite spots, gifts for their “future” life together.
He convinced himself they were dining together when he stalked her, or that when she glanced his direction at the club, she was sending him secret signals.
He’d also imagined himself in my place.
It was impossible to miss the pattern of escalation once I stepped back into her life. Between his rants about me getting in the way, he’d rewrite history, casting himself as the man at her side.
The evening of Marco’s party, he fantasized about tending to her ankle and taking her home himself. And when I started staying at her house, his entries described everything from what movies he thought they watched together to what they ate for dinner.
When she met me at Sanctum, things really took a turn. Up until that point, he’d expressed violent thoughts toward other men, but never her. That night, he documented all the ways he wanted to brutalize her as punishment for her perceived betrayal.
After reading that passage, I’ve never wanted to bloody my hands so much in my life.
I won’t sleep well until I do. But with so much evidence to sift through and few leads, I don’t know how long it will take. I only know that it will happen even if I have to go to the ends of the earth to find him.
“I can’t imagine he’d leave the area.” Romeo rocks back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling.
“But he knows we’re combing the city. If he has any functioning brain cells left, that would be too much of a risk for him.
It’s more likely he stockpiled what he needed, and he’s hunkering down somewhere. A cabin. A camper. Who the fuck knows.”
“Wherever he is, he’s reassessing the situation and adapting his strategy. He won’t give up.”
“He made that pretty fucking clear.” Romeo sighs.
“Hey.” A soft knock draws our attention to the door, where Chantel is standing in one of my T-shirts and a pair of shorts. “You weren’t in bed. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“Everything’s good, gattina. I’ll come back with you now.”
I close my laptop and glance at Romeo. He nods, a silent agreement that we’ll resume this later. It’s already light out, and neither of us has slept.
I meet Chantel at the door, and she lets out a yelp when I lift her up and haul her off.
“I can walk, you know.”
“Can you?” I arch a brow at her. “Then I guess I didn’t fuck you hard enough earlier.”
“I guess not.”
She laughs, and it’s such a rare sight to see her so at ease, I can’t look away.
We’ve fallen into a routine while she’s been here, and she’s getting more comfortable. But that edge of anxiety persists. Something still weighs heavy on her mind, and she’s not ready to trust me with whatever secrets she’s been carrying.
It’s a source of tension, but every day it feels like we move a little closer to the goalpost. She no longer panics about the idea of us together, and she’ll even admit she can’t fall asleep without me now.
I’ve been waiting until I know she’s down for the night to slip away and continue the hunt for Elias. She appears to have figured that out now, and she confirms it when I lay her back in bed and pull her against me.
“You’ve been doing this every night, haven’t you?” Her fingers trail over my forearm, tracing the scar from the boat incident.
“It’s just until we find him,” I assure her. “I’d much rather be in bed with you.”
“I know.” She rolls over to face me. “But at least let me help.”
“I don’t want you exposed to that.”
“There must be something I can do.” She worries her lip between her teeth.
“You can keep doing what you’re doing and not worry about it.”
“Says every Mafia man ever.”
“All I want is for you to relax.” I brush her hair back and stare into a sea of endless green. “I’ll carry the hard stuff now, baby.”
“God, you can’t say things like that,” she whispers.
“Why?” I graze her lips with mine. “Because you like it?”
She nods reluctantly. “I’ve worked really hard to become this version of myself. I don’t want to lose her.”
“I’m not trying to take anything from you, cara.”
“Then what are you trying to do?” she asks, an undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.
“I’m trying to give you everything,” I murmur. “If you’ll let me.”
Her throat works as she closes her eyes. “I’ve built my life from the ground up. I learned how to survive on my own. I don't want to get too comfortable and then have the rug pulled out from under me.”
“Look at me.” I tip her chin up.
She does as I ask, and watching her surrender never loses its grip on me.
“We’re done with this.”
“What?” She searches my eyes.
“Survival mode.”
I let that sink in for a minute before I continue.
“I know someone hurt you, and when I find out who it was, I’ll slaughter them. But I need you to understand that I’m in this, and if I have to tell you that every day until you believe it, I will.”
She blinks rapidly, trying to dispel the tears hovering at the edges of her eyes. She’s been emotional and exhausted lately, and has also suddenly decided she hates the smell of eggs and perfume.
That’s a conversation for another day.
Chantel has to come to terms with things on her own time, and I know she’s getting there.
I’ve caught her staring into space more often than not this week.
She isn’t na?ve. Big changes overwhelm her, and it’s a slow road to acceptance.
I just need her to take the leap of faith and trust that I’ll catch her.
“The way I want you terrifies me,” she confesses.
“I know, gattina. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
She nods, though doubt still lingers in her eyes. She wants to believe it, but something is holding her back, and I suspect it has everything to do with her past.
We’ll have to work through it eventually.
“I’ve had some time to think about my job,” she says hesitantly.
“I don’t know how long it will take to find Elias, and it’s not really fair to have them hold my spot.
So I’m going to tell Viktor he should give someone else the opportunity.
My time there was coming to an end anyway.
I just didn’t think it would be so abrupt. ”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and I genuinely mean it. I know how much her work meant to her.
“You did the right thing, even if I couldn’t see it at the time,” she admits. “I wouldn’t feel safe at work while Elias is still out there. But when all of this is over, I want to go back to say a proper goodbye to everyone.”
“Okay.”
“And I still want to dance,” she says. “I was thinking about doing classes, maybe.”
“If that’s what you want, then you should do it.”
“You’re being very agreeable,” she observes.
“Like I said, I’m not trying to take anything from you. Spend your days dancing, reading, or lounging by the pool if you want. As long as you’re with me in our bed every night, that’s all I care about.”
“So basically what you’re telling me is that I’m in my soft girl, princess era?”
She says it like it’s a joke, but it’s definitely not.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” I slide my palm up her thigh and pull her against my hardening cock. “You have a new title now, principessa.”
“What?” She moans as I start to kiss my way down her throat.
“Mine.”
“You better have a good reason for being out of bed.”
Chantel startles at the sound of my voice, turning to look at me with pancake batter smeared across her face. It’s also splattered on her shirt, and there’s a drippy trail all the way to the stove where three black pucks are stuck to the pan.
“I was trying to make you breakfast.”
What begins as a choked laugh turns into tears a second later.
“Come here, gattina.” I try to hide my amusement as she pads over to me. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” she sniffs.
“You have tears streaming down your face.”
“Allergies.” She hitches a shoulder.
“Okay, then tell me why your allergies are so upset.”
“I don’t know,” she sobs.
I lift her into my arms and carry her to our bathroom. After I set her on her feet, I strip us both down and guide her into the shower.
“I’m sorry.” She looks up at me with glassy eyes as I wipe her tears away. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I assure her.
“I just wanted to make you breakfast.” She blows out a breath. “You’ve been working so hard and not getting enough sleep, and I wanted to do something nice for you.”
“I appreciate your effort.” I brush away the batter on her face. “But I don’t care if you can make pancakes. Believe it or not, I was already in too deep before I learned about your abominable cooking skills.”
She laughs, and some of her stress dissolves as she searches my eyes. “Were you really?”
“You have no idea.” My thumb ghosts along her jaw, and she shivers.
“And here I thought you hated me,” she teases. “Did all of that arguing make you hard?”
“So fucking hard.” I drag her closer, gripping her ass roughly. “If you only knew what was going through my mind.”
“I liked fighting with you too,” she confesses.
“I know.”
“Of course you do.” She rolls her eyes. “I figured you knew exactly what you were doing when you took that tone with me.”
“What tone?” My voice darkens as I bite at her throat. “The one where I tell you to take my cock like a good girl?”
“Yes,” she moans.
“It wasn’t a rhetorical question, dea.” I smack her ass and spin her around as she gasps. “Put your hands on the wall, and bend over.”
She does exactly that, and I let out a low groan of satisfaction as my gaze drifts over her.
“I like it when you do what you’re told.” I slide my palm up the curve of her spine and grip her hair, pulling her head back until she meets my gaze.
“Okay, but let’s be real. You also like it when I’m a brat.”
I lean over her and capture her mouth, appreciating that her flexibility allows me to bend and fuck her however I want.
When I let her come up for air, she’s breathless, dazed, and completely unprepared for the sting of my palm against her ass. She lets out a little yelp that goes straight to my cock, and I keep going until she’s covered in my handprints.
I make her come twice before I bury my cock inside her and unload. Now when our guests arrive, she should be too well-fucked to stress about it.
After I clean her up, I give her some space to get ready for the day. While she’s in the bathroom drying her hair, Romeo calls out to me from down the hall.
“You decent?”
I step out and join him at the end of the corridor.
“It’s weird I have to ask you that now,” he says.
“Well, you’re never decent,” I tell him. “So there’s that.”
“And I give zero fucks about it.” He smirks. “In fact, Gabi and I were just—”
“Don’t need to hear it.”
“Like I’d tell you anyway.” He chuckles. “What I do to my wife is my business.”
“Is there a reason for this visit?”
“Yeah, your company just arrived. Abella and Angelo are keeping them busy until you’re ready.”
“Alright.” I sigh. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”