Resisting Mateo (Morelli Family, #5)

by Sam Mariano

  Sighing, he grabs the phone. “Well, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this. You can’t say anything to him, he can’t know you’re calling; he’s stayed away this long and I don’t want to tempt the little prick. Please don’t say anything, but you’ll hear his voice.”

  Now my heart starts to pound. This is more like proof. Mateo dials the number and hands me the phone.

  A little shaky, I put the phone to my ear. It rings once, twice, three times. I brace myself for disappointment, for this to be a trick—oh, he didn’t answer the phone? Weird, we’ll have to try another time.

  And then I hear Vince’s voice. “Hello?”

  I crumble. It’s hard to keep from crying out, but I clutch my hand over my mouth to stifle the sob that tries to escape, squeezing my eyes shut.

  Oh my god, it’s Vince. That’s Vince’s voice.

  Shock and relief pour through me in equal measures.

  Now he’s annoyed. “Hello?” he says, a little more aggressively.

  New tears leak out of my eyes, but Mateo carefully takes the phone out of my hand, ending the call and flipping the phone shut.

  “You manipulative bastard,” I say between sobs, but they’re happy sobs. They’re happy sobs. I’m so goddamn happy right now, I could burst. Vince is alive. I didn’t kill him.

  Mateo watches me warily, like he’s not sure what to expect now. “I just… I wanted to test you. I know it was brutal, but it seemed like two birds with one stone. I thought you would’ve had to mourn your relationship anyway, and I wouldn’t have many chances to test you like that—it all made sense on paper. I had it all worked out. Test one concern, resolve another. Vince is gone. He might as well be dead, for the purposes of this family. But he’s not; I just gave him the one thing he wanted more than you. Vince never wanted to be in this life. He always wanted out, I just wouldn’t let him. When all this happened, I decided I had to. It was the only way I could keep you. He would’ve been a problem if he stayed, but I was worried you really wouldn’t forgive me if I actually killed him. I wanted you to, but… I wasn’t willing to take that big of a risk. So I kept you, and let him go.”

  I don’t know what to feel. So many different emotions tear through me—relief and anger, confusion and joy. I’m so overwhelmed, and the most horrible thing is the familiarity of this feeling. I’ve been here before with him.

  He set me up. Again. He played me. Again. There wasn’t even an end date on this game, because he never intended to tell me the truth.

  “You put me through all of this for nothing,” I state.

  “No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he disagrees. “I had my reasons.”

  “You always have reasons,” I say, faintly. “But they’re not normal.”

  Cocking his head slightly as if to acknowledge that, he says, “Well, no. But I’m not normal.”

  A wave of protectiveness moves over me—inexplicably, since no one is attacking him, he’s just talking about himself. Still, I feel the urge to protect him, even after he put me through all this shit.

  I shake my head at myself, turning my gaze back to this gorgeous, manipulative mess of a man. “You were never going to tell me? You were going to let me believe Vince was dead because of me?”

  He hesitates to answer that one, and I know it’s because yes, that was the plan.

  I shake my head, not even making him answer it. “You’re emotionally exhausting, you know that?”

  Nodding, he says, “I do know that. I don’t know how to be any other way.”

  “When are you ever going to stop testing me? When will you start trusting me instead? You don’t do this shit to Meg.”

  In his defense, he doesn’t look pleased with himself. “It’s not the same with Meg. I already know the answer with her, no further testing required. You’re different. You offer me everything, so there’s much more to lose. It’s difficult for me trust people. There’s something about you that… it just feels different. But I’m hard on people, and I had to know, even if I did something you couldn’t accept, you would still love me. I trusted that without testing it once before, and I was wrong. The woman I invested everything in withdrew from me and there was nothing I could do to bring her back.”

  “Beth?”

  He nods wordlessly, letting that sink in.

  I remind him most of the partner he murdered.

  I need to learn more about Beth. I need him to tell me about Beth, so I can understand why she has him so convinced he needs to keep doing shit like this to me. I want to see every scar that’s been inflicted upon this complicated man. I want to understand every experience that’s made him this way, and I want to heal his every hurt.

  There’s a noticeable difference between the first time he blew my mind wide open with his games at the poker game, and this time: now he’s giving me space. Last time he crowded me once he dropped the bomb, filling me up with him, kissing my neck, touching me, overwhelming me further. Maybe today he doesn’t think I can handle it.

  I know I can. What’s more, somehow I still want to.

  The reality sinks in—this is real. This isn’t a trick. It’s so hard to know with him sometimes, but I know this is. He’s given me proof. Vince is alive and well and free because of me. I remember sitting at the pizza place with him back when we were first not-dating, him telling me Mateo would have to let him out, and he never would.

  But he did. For me.

  It feels like I’ve been in prison awaiting rescue, and Mateo just brought in one of his supervillain weapons and disintegrated the bars. Warmth washes over me, like sunshine after a hellish storm. Maybe he’s the one who locked me up in the first place, but he came back to rescue me.

  Now I’m free, too.

  Free from the crushing guilt. Free to love this crazy asshole. I don’t have to feel bad about it anymore. He might still be a crazy, manipulative monster, but he didn’t cross my line. He respected the boundary I gave him—he just didn’t want me to know he did.

  He loves me. He totally loves me. In his twisted, controlling, semi-scary way, but I’ll take it. He might ultimately drive me out of my mind, but he’s worth it.

  I grin up at him. He looks a little wary. All of a sudden I have energy again, and I use it to stand and wrap my arms around his neck, sinking against him. His arms tentatively move around my body, holding me close.

  “I’m not Beth,” I tell him. “I’m never going to be Beth. I love you more than anything. More than is even reasonable. I will never stop loving you. You could break my heart a thousand more times, and I would still be there the next day hoping you wouldn’t do it again. You want to trust me with your heart, so give me the same courtesy; let me trust you with mine. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you, so please stop trying. I love you more than anyone ever has or will or could, and I don’t deserve to be tortured for it. All I ask is that as a personal favor, you try really hard to avoid killing anyone I love. That would be really considerate.”

  A little laugh of surprise shoots out of him. He pulls back to gaze at me, running his thumb tenderly across my face. “I’ll do my best,” he assures me.

  “Can I tell Cherie Vince is alive?”

  His face darkens, his eyes chilling. “Fuck Cherie.”

  I shake my head, running my fingers through his hair. “She wasn’t out of line.”

  “She was completely out of line.”

  “She thinks you killed Vince. We need to tell her you didn’t. That he’s living his life, free to find someone who makes him happy. She’ll feel better; she’ll know that would make him happy. Happier than I did, let’s be honest.”

  Mateo rolls his eyes, but not with any real oomph. “Why do you care so much about people?”

  Smiling faintly, I tell him, “I have to care for both of us.”

  Tenderly running the backs of his fingers across my jawline, he says, “I know I don’t tell you often, but I really do think you’re incredible.”

  His words fill me up, and
I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Often? We must have different definitions of often,” I tease.

  “Sh, take your compliment and don’t ruin it.”

  “You can give me compliments anytime you want,” I inform him.

  Pretending to consider it, he says, “I don’t know, I don’t want to spoil you.”

  “No, you just want to break my brain,” I say lightly.

  He loses his smile and I immediately feel bad.

  “I was just kidding,” I add, quickly. “You’re not going to break my brain. Good vs. evil: you play evil, I play good. I have to win. All the books say so.”

  “I don’t think good can win out over evil while fucking evil. I don’t think it works that way.”

  I shrug. “I’ll have to accept defeat then.”

  “On behalf of all good, you’re waving the white flag?”

  “The alternative was unacceptable. I’m sure everyone else will understand.”

  Grinning wickedly, he wraps me up in his embrace and kisses me. A tender, lingering kiss that melts my heart. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

  “Oh, I do not doubt you,” I assure him. Then, seriously, I add, “Please don’t ever do anything like this to me again, though. Not this bad. I can handle your games, but this one was too far.”

  “I won’t do this again,” he promises me. “I’m sorry I told you I’d make you leave. I thought I could force you over the hump. I didn’t consider that you would just internalize all the feelings and take the bump for me.”

  I nudge him with my shoulder. “You should’ve. I take all the bumps for you.”

  Tucking me into his chest, he holds me tight and sighs.

  “You really did do a lot of work to get me here, didn’t you?” I realize. This must have been an enormous undertaking. Especially since he did it all in secret, and had to make Vince go along with it. And that’s just the Vince stuff—I have no idea how he convinced Meg to accept me.

  “Yep,” he verifies.

  “You must really like me,” I tease.

  “What was your first clue?” he asks, dryly.

  I come out of his protective hold so I can reach up and kiss him. “Well, I hope I’m worth all the extra steps.”

  Cupping my face in his hand and gazing down at me tenderly, he assures me, “You’re worth a million more.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Mia

  “Those meatballs are kinda small. You want to make them a little bigger?”

  Isabella shakes her head, grabbing another little chunk of meat from the bowl and rolling it into a teeny tiny ball. “No, then my baby can’t eat them.”

  “Oh.” Meg’s eyebrows rise and she nods. “I guess that’s a good point. Though, you know, you could just cut one up for her.”

  Isabella considers it briefly, then shakes her head. “Nah.”

  I take the plate of Isabella’s teeny meatballs over to the stove where Elise is stirring the sauce. “I’ll try to sneak over some normal sized ones in a minute,” I murmur lowly.

  She smiles kindly—much more sincerely than is typical. Having Lily and Isabella in the kitchen seems to put her in a better mood. Probably makes her think of the tiny Palmetto nestled in her own tummy. These damn pregnant women running around the kitchen.

  Feeling a little dissatisfied, I head back over to Meg. I lean in and whisper to her, telling her she needs to sneak some regular sized meatballs over to Elise. At least enough for Mateo. If the rest of us have pea-sized balls of meat, we can survive, but Mateo likes things a certain way.

  “On it, boss,” she assures me. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m gonna do drinks.”

  Meg grins, happy that I can do that again. “Have fun,” she says, brightly.

  I feel lighter than I have in a long time as I make my way to the study. When I get inside, my gaze still drifts to Vince’s empty chair, but I don’t feel sad now. I still feel a little tug. I still miss Vince, but I know this is the only way this could’ve worked. He would be miserable and I would feel awkward if he had to sit here now, if I had to pour him a drink and walk on egg shells, not wanting to be too openly affectionate with Mateo so as not to rub it in. Mateo also isn’t the most considerate person in the world, so he would shove his face right in it and I would feel immensely guilty—not to mention anxious that with every pushy grope, with every lingering kiss, Vince inched closer and closer to trying something horrible again.

  No, this is for the best. Mateo came up with the absolute best plan for all of us—he probably wouldn’t admit that, but he totally did. I’m full of affection for him again as his gaze meets mine in the study. His lips curve up slightly, a trace of warmth dancing in his beautiful brown eyes. I know I’m here to serve, but I go over to him and steal a kiss first.

  His hands settle on my hips and he gives me a bonus kiss, staying close. “You’re doing drinks tonight, huh?”

  I nod with considerable cheer. “I can do that without turning into a basket case now.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says lightly.

  “You’re too good to me,” I toss back as I step out of his embrace to go grab drinks.

  Once I’m done giving everyone a beverage, I naturally turn my attention back to Mateo. He’s not at his perch though—he’s behind his desk, sitting in his chair. Now that I’m looking his way, he pats his lap. I grin and head over there, taking a seat and leaning in to give him another kiss.

  “You never sit down for pre-dinner drinks.”

  He shrugs casually. “No one here needs to be intimidated tonight. How are Isabella’s meatballs coming along?”

  I pause to consider, trailing my finger down the front of his dress shirt. “Well, if Sal and Francesca bring a shrink ray to blast us all with before we eat, they’re coming along perfectly.”

  “Wonderful,” he says dryly.

  “Don’t worry; Meg’s making some normal sized meatballs for you. The rest of us get balls so small they’re a choking hazard.”

  He can’t help smirking at that. “Well, I hope you don’t choke to death on tiny balls.”

  I smile slyly, leaning in to whisper, “I’d much rather choke on your cock.”

  His head lolls back and he groans. “Goddamn family dinner.”

  I chuckle, dropping a few tender kisses along the exposed column of his neck. “You love family dinner.”

  His fingers dig into my hip, trapping me against his hard-on. “Yes, but now I have better things to do. We could sneak up to my room for a few minutes.”

  “Drinks have already started,” I inform him, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Bathroom, then. I can bend you over the sink, fuck you from behind while you watch in the mirror.”

  I swallow, more than a little tempted to take him up on that offer.

  Before I can decide whether or not to sneak away with him, I hear a few murmured greetings. My back is to the door, but I peer over my shoulder to see Sal and Francesca have arrived. I brighten, going to move from Mateo’s lap, but he keeps me anchored there, so I settle back in.

  “Hey, guys,” I greet, offering a little wave.

  Francesca looks pleasantly surprised to see me sitting in Mateo’s lap. After Mateo came clean about Vince, I convinced him that we needed to tell the ladies who actually cared about Vince the truth—none of the men seemed terribly distraught over it, and they’re the ones on the business side of things, anyway. Meg, Cherie and Francesca deserved to know the truth, so even though Cherie hated me, I braved going to tell her. At first she didn’t believe me. I had to dig out Mateo’s folder and show her the pictures of Vince. It didn’t take a phone call to prove it to her. She covered her face and cried with relief, then she hugged me and apologized for calling me a manipulative bitch. I still deserved it, but she was overcome with gratitude and I very much understood. When Mateo told me the truth, I felt like he had single-handedly brought Vince back to life. I couldn’t have been more grateful—and he was the one who put me through
all that shit to begin with, knowing damn well he could stop it at any time.

  But hey, I don’t hold a grudge.

  Mateo told Francesca himself, and I haven’t talked to her since the day we had lunch, so this is the first I’ve seen her since she found out the truth.

  Now her eyes move over the sight of us in his chair. It’s unfamiliar enough that he’s seated, let alone with someone in his lap. He never sits like this with Meg. That shouldn’t bring me pleasure, but hey, she gets to have babies, I should get some perk of my own.

  Francesca steps around to the front of the desk, searching my face as if for some sign that I’m faking it. I offer her a smile I hope is reassuring.

  “Did you bring your honeymoon album?” I ask.

  Sal shakes his head. “We weren’t sure what we were walking into.”

  “Oh. Well, this dinner will probably be a little less entertaining than some you’ve been to.”

  “I don’t know, sister wives? I’ve gotta see how this works,” he states.

  I grin, looking at Francesca. “You’re not sold on it yet, huh?”

  “It’s weird,” she drawls.

  “But it works,” I shoot back.

  Mateo doesn’t contribute to this conversation; he just presides over us, periodically taking a sip of his drink while we battle out whether or not our lifestyle is acceptable.

  “But how? I don’t understand.”

  “You’ll see,” I tell her, waving off her concern. “Nothing has really changed. We’ve snapped right back to how things were before. We’re buddies, all is well.”

  “But you have sex with the same person,” Francesca says, grimacing.

  “But not at the same time,” I volunteer, like maybe that helps.

  “Yet,” Mateo murmurs.

  Now he makes my cheeks flush. Francesca grimaces and covers her ears. “I can’t unhear that. What’s wrong with you?”

  He smirks, taking a long sip of his drink. “Nothing. I’m doing quite well.”

  Sal shakes his head, glancing back over his shoulder. No one else is paying us any attention. If they’re surprised to see Mateo more relaxed, they certainly don’t remark upon it. Glancing back at Mateo, he asks, “You sure you want to let her study psychology? What if she figures out what’s wrong with her and fixes herself?”