"WE'RE LATE FOR A dinner reservation," I say, but my words taste like a desperate, last-ditch attempt to shield Christina and her mother and friend from a danger that is already barreling toward us at full speed.

"Are you having the tasting menu?" Priscilla Martell says. "At the rooftop restaurant of Shangri-La?"

Christina bites out the word, "Yes." She clutches my hand, her face whitening, her knuckles matching the pallor of her skin.

"We're having the same." Priscilla gestures between herself and a shorter brunette behind her, whom I haven't noticed. Priscilla seems to be keen on doing most of the talking for the two of them. "My sister, Joanna."

"We've met," I say, recalling the botched marriage arrangement at her father's house.

"I don't remember that," Joanna says. She's clad in a gold dress, the satin draping over her slender form. The twin sun to her sister's moon since Priscilla wears silver. "It must not have been very eventful."

Planting my hand on Christina's upper back, I lean in and said, "You and Thyra and your mother should go to the elevators. I'll join you in a moment."

She shakes off my hand. "I'm staying here and you can't stop me."

"It was worth a try," I say wryly. "What do the two of you want?"

"To enjoy a lovely dinner," Joanna says, folding her arms over her chest. "Is that so wrong?"

"It's a crime," Thyra says, bouncing toward them in her heels. "I'm Thyra, Christina's best friend and clearly the best-looking and best-dressed here. Is that dress last season's Prada?"

"Versace," Priscilla says, but instead of taking the insult to heart, she laughs, almost seeming amused. But it is amusement in the way that a cat would play with her food, toying with a mouse before it pounces. "I like your get-up, too. Elie Saab?"

"You have a good eye," Thyra says. Christina shoots her a look like, why are you fraternizing with the enemy?

"Shall we all go to dinner together, then?" Linda, Christina's mother, says, to my surprise. She seems to be eerily calm for a woman who's watching her ex... husband? lover's children interact with her own child. "I'm sure we have loads to catch up on."

"A wonderful suggestion." Priscilla smiles, adjusting the sunglasses perched on top of her head despite the fact that the sun is setting in half an hour. "Let's go."

As we march through an alternate corridor that leads to the rooftop, all gold and marble and ornate statues, I keep close to Christina. Surveying the inhabitants of the cramped hallway, I notice Linda adjusting something under her tweed jacket, and realize it's a Glock. No wonder she was so calm. The sight almost makes me smile.

"So, how have you been since we last saw each other, Christina?" Priscilla says.

"I saw you at the reading of our father's will," she says, and gestures between her and her mother. "We all did. And then you sent men to stalk me, which put a bit of a damper on our relationship."

I stiffen at the mention of anyone following Christina Martell around, bodyguard or not.

"Stalk you?" Joanna says, pressing a hand to her collarbone. "We sent those men to guard you. A lot of people would be hunting down the daughter of Charles Martell, illegitimate or not."

"A little warning might have been nice," she snaps, fidgeting with the pearl pendant on her necklace. "I thought I was about to be killed. And I don't need bodyguards."

"We all have them," Priscilla says with a shrug.

"I'm not one of you," Christina says, her grip on my hand tightening. "I've never truly been a Martell."

"But you were happy enough to take our father's money?" says Joanna, raising an eyebrow.

I feel as though we're being backed into a corner by two catty Beverly Hills Desperate Housewives. "Why are the two of you here?"

"This isn't any of your business, Cavalli."

"Answer my question and maybe I'll consider letting you leave alive." The threat falls from my lips too easily. I may not be willing to follow through on it, but I'm too used to letting threats slip from my mouth.

Christina stiffens, something like hurt flashing across her face. Betrayal. I read the words on her expression easily: I thought you'd changed.

"Aww," Priscilla says, her tone dripping with caustic acid. "Did you hurt your girlfriend's feelings? Did she think that you were a better man now?"

"I am," I said, too quickly. I wanted to be one. It was too easy to fall into my old habits, but I wanted to.

"This matter doesn't involve you, Cavalli, as I said before. Go scurry along to promote your brother's restaurant or something. We'll have no dealings with you, unless you'd like to stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

"Christina is my concern," I say,

The girl in question steps out from behind my shoulder, dropping my hand. It feels like a rejection. "Antonio, you and my mother and Thyra can go ahead. This between us... between the Martells."

"Christina, you don't know what you're getting into--"

"I didn't know what I was getting into when I dated you, but I survived that, didn't I?" Her voice is dry.

My heart squeezes in my chest, a twinge of pain radiating through my body. "You make a good point.

"I'll be fine, Antonio." She reaches up and kisses my cheek. "I can handle myself."

I don't want to let her go again. I can't lose her. But I have to trust that she knows what she's doing. With the faint smell of her rosewater perfume and warmth still clinging to me, I walk away.

"What is it?" I say, resisting the urge to say, why can't you Martell's just leave me alone?

"We're all sisters--"Priscilla starts to say.

Joanna interrupts her. "Oh, drop the friendly charade, sis, just tell her why you're here."

"The guards," Priscilla says, stepping forward. "They're for your protection, Christina. Not to harm you."

The two of them back me literally into a corner. A nice corner, with crown moulding and fancy wallpaper and a fake potted plant, but a corner all the same. Maybe I should have kept Antonio around, but I can't hide behind him forever, even if he is well over six feet tall.

"I'd like to believe that," I say cautiously, and it's true.

"We're only here to warn you, Christina. Antonio Cavalli isn't the kind of man you should be getting close to."

A spasm of doubt like a splinter of ice wedges between my ribs, spilling cold air into my chest. "He's changed. He told me that."

"And you believe him?" Joanna scoffs.

"Am I supposed to believe the two of you?"

"They're not good people. The Cavallis hate the Martells." Priscilla tosses back her hair.

I twist the bracelet on my wrist. "Then why did his father want him to marry one of you?"

"Call it a Romeo and Juliet match." Priscilla says. "Whatever it is, you can't be with him. Once a Cavalli, always a Cavalli."

I remember Antonio's words, and despite everything, I choose to believe him. Even my mother, one of the most mistrustful people I know, believes him. I believe in God, most of all. I believe He is using Antonio for the good. "You don't know him."

"That's what they all say. Christina, aren't you tired of defending him? The man is a. murderer. He used to deal not just in drugs but in death," says Joanna.

"He's different!"

"How do you know he's changed?" Priscilla snaps. Her black-lined eyes are wide, imploring.

"Because I believe God changed him! Something neither of you seems to be capable of understanding." I fold my arms over my chest. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go. I have a dinner reservation that I can't miss."

"You've made your choice." Joanna shakes her head. "Don't take this wrong way, but... you'll regret it. Men like him never change."

No. Bad men don't change. God changes them. Christ redeems them.