Page 78 of Saving the Last Heir
“Fantasticchoice, sir,” the server said, then hurried away.
Christian and I grinned awkwardly at each other.
“Uhm,” I said, and glanced around to see if anyone was watching. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
Christian nodded, and also zipped his gaze around the dining room once before saying, “Same, uh, you look really great tonight.” His phone sat on the table by his hand, and he tapped it with a finger. “I really enjoyed your profile, I thought we made a good match.”
The server returned with Christian’s cocktail as well as a basket of fresh-baked bread and a ramekin of butter. He took our orders before departing. When he was gone, Christian leaned in close, narrowing the gap between us, and took my hand.
“Is this okay?” he whispered. “Am I playing this up the right way?”
“It’s great,” I answered. “I don’t think anyone looking will suspect anything.”
“Good.” He sighed. “I’m not a very talented actor. My little sister is way better at this kind of shit.”
When Jackson had come to me, on the verge of a nervous breakdown and needing help, it had taken an hour to calm him down and get the full story out of him. It had been exactly as I worried. That Joseph Anitoli prick was never going to let Jackson free, and would continue holding his little sister’s life over him, forcing him to do more and more depraved and awful things. Now, he was supposed to kidnap and murder his best friend’s little sister. It was disgusting and horrifying.
After a couple days of brainstorming a plan, we both knew the only way it could work was with Christian on board. The problem was getting to him without Anitoli’s men finding out Jackson had contacted him. They knew they were friends, andanyinteraction would be scrutinized. That left me—the wildcard they didn’t know about. The issue washowwould I contact him without casting suspicion. Thankfully, Christian was a bit of a player and had a few dating app profiles. What better way to subvert suspicion than pretend to be looking for a hot date?
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on now?” Christian asked.
“I am. I’m sorry for the, uh”—I glanced around again—“subterfuge.”
“All good,” Christian said with a smile. “I’ll be honest, I wasfreakedout when you sent me the first message on the app. I had the impression you and Jackson were becoming a thing. Then, like five seconds later, Jackson texts me to go with it, and I’m like,what the hell does that mean?” Christian’s smile slipped, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “Jackson’s not, like, into some sort of cuckold fantasy or something right? Because I’m not down for that.”
“Oh, Jesus!” I laughed and clenched Christian’s hand harder. “No. Dear God. It’s not sexual. It’s…well, it’s life and death.”
His face grew somber, and he opened his mouth to ask a question, but then the waiter returned with the appetizer. We thanked him and nibbled for a few seconds, making it look like anormal date, before getting back to business.
“Christian,” I said, feeling nervous about how he’d react. “You know about Jackson’s issue with the Anitolis, right?”
“Of course. Hell, I helped him steal that stupid car. That was adisasterby the way.”
“I have to tell you something, and I don’t know how you’re going to react. Before I tell you, I need you to beverycautious. You’re going to be angry, you’ll want to scream and rage, but youhaveto stay calm.” As I spoke, all remnants of a smile faded from his lips, and his expression grew wary and confused the more I went on. “People are watching Jackson, and they’re watching you. That’s the reason I contacted you. They don’t know me, so they have no reason to suspect me?—”
“Shyanne… what thefuckare you talking about?” Christian sounded both agitatedandscared.
“Shhh,” I hissed, then let out a small laugh as though he’d said something funny. I ran a finger over the back of his hand, being as flirtatious as I could manage. Christian looked down at my hand like I’d gone crazy, but quickly caught on.
He chuckled, then said, “What…the….fuck…is going on?”
“You need to remember what I said. Life and death. You understand, right?” I said.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but after studying my face, he nodded slowly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll be fine.”
He took a sip of his drink, whether to give himself some liquid courage to hear what I was about to say, or to postpone what he’d already decided was bad news, I wasn’t sure.
Waiting until he was looking at me again, I squeezed his hand. “Jackson returned the car, and when he did, Joseph Anitoli told him that he wasn’t giving his sister’s egg back until he did something else.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Christian said, the food on the table now lying forgotten. “What does he want him to do?”
I swallowed hard. “He wants…” I blew out a breath, then said the rest in a rush. “He wants Jackson to kidnap and murder your little sister.”
Christian’s hand went rigid, his fingers curling around mine and squeezing tight, gripping me as if his life depended on me holding onto him. His eyes grew wide and manic.
“He…” Christian forced the words from his mouth, obviously struggling to stay calm. “He wants my baby sisterdead?” He clenched his teeth together, lips peeling back in seething anger. “That motherfucker.”
He tried to pull his hand away, but I tightened my grip, knowing he’d want to rush from the restaurant and throw our plan to shit.
