by Sam Mariano
Every trace of amusement vanishes from Mateo’s face and he puts his glass down, leaning forward to mirror my stature. “He what now?”
“I’m sure it was bullshit,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “He’s Matt, so I’m sure he just wanted to fuck with me one last time. I just wanted to tell you, because I wouldn’t put it past him to include a letter in his will or some dramatic shit like that. Just in case, I don’t want it to come as a shock to you. Again, it’s bullshit, it’s obviously bullshit, but there it is.”
His head is cocked to the side and he’s frowning, searching my face for signs of shared features. I sigh, sitting back, because I feel like I’m on display, and I hate that shit.
“What if it isn’t?” he asks.
I shrug. “Wouldn’t really make a difference, would it?”
“We’d be brothers,” he remarks. His gaze sharpens and he smiles slowly as he realizes, “You’re older than I am.”
“Barely.”
“That would make you the Morelli heir.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” I say firmly, semi-glaring at him. “I’m not a Morelli. Whether Matt’s full of shit or he isn’t, I’m still me. I’m still Adrian Palmetto. I want nothing to do with your legacy. Knowing Matt, I don’t even know if my mom…” I trail off, shaking my head. It fills me with dread just considering the possibility of sharing that man’s DNA, but not more than knowing what a rapey bastard he was. Mateo’s not above the same behavior, obviously, but Matt certainly never had any of his victims turn into admirers afterward. Thinking of Mia in Mateo’s bed, considering the possibility that it could’ve been my mom in her place with his dad years earlier...
It turns my stomach.
Mateo watches those thoughts play out across my face, then he suddenly asks, “Did they have an affair, or…?”
He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. “I don’t know,” I mutter. “And we never will, so I guess there’s no point thinking about it.”
“You should’ve swabbed his cheek,” he offers.
“I don’t want a test. Like I said, if it’s true, I don’t even want to know.”
Shrugging, he says, “If you change your mind, we could look into it. If it is true, you and I share DNA markers, too.”
“Not interested,” I reiterate.
“This is an interesting prospect,” Mateo says, his flair for the dramatic making him incapable of letting it go. Bastard’s probably going to steal my hair brush and test it himself.
“I don’t want this to be an issue between us,” I state, holding his gaze. “He did, that’s why he said it. If it is true, it doesn’t matter.”
“It would be sort of poetic, wouldn’t it?” he asks, a ghost of a smile on his face.
“It’d be something.”
It’d mean a lot of things. It’d mean I murdered my own brother when I killed Joey. Murdered my own father when I killed Matt. It might mean I’m another Morelli rape baby—and related to Cherie, come to think of it.
Thank God he brought Elise in from the outside world.
The main thing, though, is that it could change the way Mateo looks at me. Not because he’s sentimental, but because he likes power and doesn’t like competition.
I go for lightness when I tell him, “If it did turn out to be true, just know you don’t have to lock me up and drug me to keep me out of your way.”
He sort of smiles, but it doesn’t reach his distant eyes. As soon as I utter the words, I realize Mateo never told me that. As far as anyone in this family knew, Matt was sick. Mateo never told me he just wanted his father’s power.
Not that it bothers me. I’ve lived this life; I know the circumstances. I know Matt. I know how much he hurt Mateo—and literally everyone else—over the years. I know there’s no love between them. Even if Mateo would’ve confided in me that Matt was healthy, fully capable of handling the family affairs himself, I would’ve supported locking the old bastard up and drugging his ass.
But Mateo never told me.
And I just told him I knew.
He doesn’t call me on it, though. I wait for it, but he merely nods his understanding. I guess he figures maybe Matt told me, since I was obviously in with him today.
But Mateo still feels distant, and as much as I hate to admit it, that makes me nervous.
“I’m trying to be open with you,” I tell him.
“I appreciate that.”
“Don’t start plotting against me,” I say, not bothering to pretend he wouldn’t.
Instead of assuring me he won’t, he asks, “Have you made a decision about coming back to work for me long-term?”
“Yeah.” I search his face for something accessible, but come up empty, so I watch for changes instead as I say, “I’m in.”
His expression relaxes just slightly, but the promise of my loyalty is not enough to disarm him this time. I can imagine the thoughts going through his mind—probably running through what he would do in the same circumstances. We’re not alike, but we both have a ruthless streak, an ability to hone in on what we want and go for it, regardless of what’s in the way. I decided I wanted Elise and gave up five years of my life in service to someone I more or less hated just to get her—not even knowing if she’d want me once I did. In pursuit of that end, I’ve done heinous, unconscionable shit that even I don’t think is right—but I did it. To get what I wanted.
Mateo doesn’t have to work that hard for things, but that’s because he was born to excessive privilege. Not just financial wealth, charisma, and good looks, but power, influence, respect. I came into the world with little, lost what I had, and had to fight for every inch of what I have now. If what Matt said is true, I shouldn’t have had to.
Me, I can let that go. It doesn’t matter to me. I never wanted it anyway.
But I don’t know if Mateo will believe that. He knows it’s consistent with who I am, but it isn’t what he would do, and that has to color his perspective, at least a little.
He would swear his fealty, kneel to the king, and then overthrow him.
Nothing I say to him tonight’s going to resolve this, so I give up trying. I’ll let him stew in it for little while, consider the best and worst case scenarios. Then tomorrow I’ll wake up and go kill his enemy for him, because that’s what loyal soldiers do.
Chapter Eighteen
“Harder.”
I groan as Elise rides me harder, pushing her hands through her hair, lifting her incredible hips and dropping them, sheathing my cock in her amazing fucking body. When I’m inside her, I never want to leave.
“Adrian,” she says, gasping, lowering her body until she’s clutching my shoulders. She grinds against me, her beautiful face tense as she rides me, seeking out her own pleasure.
“That’s it, baby,” I murmur, the words falling off my tongue like they belong there.
“Oh, my god,” she breathes, grinding more furiously against me until her whole body shudders with release and she collapses, smashing those perfect breasts of hers against my chest. “Oh, Adrian. Oh, my god.”
“My turn,” I tell her, flipping her over onto her back.
With a relaxed smile, she says, “Do whatever you want to me.”
My cock really likes when she says shit like that. It’s not that hard to please though—anything that includes Elise naked, and especially anything that includes being inside her, it’s pretty ecstatic about. I’m still not used to her. It doesn’t feel like I ever will be.
As I hike up her legs and plant myself between them, easing my cock inside her tight pussy, I still can’t believe I’m allowed to do this.
“I love the feeling of you inside me,” she says sweetly, turning me on even more than I already am.
Being inside of Elise is the single greatest feeling I’ve encountered in my 33 years, so if she feels even a fraction of that, I believe her.
While she’s on my cock, I grab her legs and rotate her sideways. She gasps a little as I rotate her, but when I ease out and thrust ba
ck inside of her, I get a guttural, “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, with more enthusiasm as I plow into her again. “Oh, fuck.”
Watching her get excited for me makes it hard to hold on, but as long as what I’m doing is working for her, I’m gonna drag it out.
“Adrian,” she says on a gasp, reaching for me, but giving up and clutching the pillow. “Adrian, Adrian, Adrian.”
I fucking love when she does that. When she feels pleasure building, she just says my name over and over again, a little pleasure chant, falling from her perfect lips.
God, she makes me so happy.
Even today, even knowing what a grim fucking day it’s going to be, I get to start off by making love to Elise, by kissing, touching, and fucking this beautiful human being.
How can I complain about that?
Elise comes a second time, and the sounds of her pleasure prove too much. I can’t hold out anymore, but I don’t have to.
Collapsing against the old mattress I used to sleep on alone, I pull Elise’s naked body against me, trapping her breasts with one of my arms.
It’s too soon, but it’s hard not to tell her I love her. I won’t say it until I know she’ll only say it back if she means it, but God… I love the fuck out of this woman.
As if she knows what I’m thinking, Elise relaxes into me, her hand coming up to rest on my arm over her breasts.
“I wish you could stay home today.”
“Oh, me too.” I’m trying to block out today’s to-do list, to hold onto this perfect morning, but reality won’t wait forever.
She turns over so she can look up at me. “Is it going to be dangerous?”
“They shouldn’t know we’re coming. We’ve got more guys. It should be okay.”
She stares at my chest, her hands coming to rest there. “I hate this part.”
Yeah, so do I. Never bothered me much before, but now that I finally have someone worth coming home to—hell, someone who makes calling Mateo’s house home not only palatable, but roll out of me naturally, with no objection—it raises the stakes.
“When this is all over, you should take a few days off. We’ll stay in bed the whole time, and only come out for food and water.”
I smile at her, leaning down to brush a kiss across her lips. “Actually when all this is over, Mateo’s taking Meg on a vacation. He shouldn’t need me if he’s not here. Maybe we could go away, too. Somewhere tropical. You like the beach?”
“I love the beach,” she says, grinning. “When I was younger, I always used to dream of living in a house on the beach someday. It’s so peaceful. There’s something about the waves lapping at the shore that just soothes me.”
“Then I’ll buy you a beach house someday,” I tell her.
“You’ll buy us a beach house,” she amends, poking me in the chest.
I can’t help smiling. “Yeah. Us.”
When I finally drag myself out of bed to shower and head downstairs for the day, I can’t even wipe the stupid smile off my face.
Mateo’s at the table alone, sipping his coffee and reading his paper. He looks up as I come in, and even once I’ve thrown some food on a plate and returned to the table, a ghost of a smile still hangs on my lips.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.
I don’t even try to play it cool as I drop into the seat next to him. “Elise.”
“Yeah?”
“Elise is awesome.”
He grins, putting his paper down. “Good. It’s nice to see you happy.”
I shake my head, reaching for my cup of coffee. “I can’t believe she likes me.”
He laughs a little, probably surprised by my candor, but I don’t even care. “I’m glad she does,” he says earnestly. I know he doesn’t especially care if Elise was pleased with wherever he decided to send her, but he knows I do.
“You won’t need me when you and Meg go on vacation, right?”
“I shouldn’t,” he says, shaking his head. “Unless you want to come. Have a couples getaway.”
“Oh yeah, that’s what I want to do with my time off,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I figured,” he says lightly.
“You going to Paris?”
Rolling his eyes, he says, “Fuck Paris.”
“Elise wants to go to the beach,” I tell him. “I can think of worse ways to spend my time.”
“Actually, that’s where I want to go,” he says, cracking a smile. “Maybe we should reconsider the couples getaway.”
I shake my head. “You tell me which ocean you’re visiting, I’ll pick a different one.”
“That’s not very brotherly,” he tells me.
I give him the deadest expression I can possibly muster, but he just grins and takes a sip of his coffee.
“We’re going to have to have a funeral, you know.”
“You’re going to have to have a funeral,” I state, turning my attention back to my plate. “That has nothing to do with me.”
“He left a will, too,” Mateo points out.
I sigh, not wanting to even think about it. The old man probably left emotional landmines there, too. “I hope that’s not you someday,” I tell him, flicking a glance at him.
“I like to think I’m an improvement over the last Mateo, thank you very much.”
“Hopefully Meg’s baby will be an improvement over the current one,” I say. “Who knows, maybe three or four generations down the road, someone normal will carry your name.”
Mateo smirks. “I wouldn’t count on it.”
“It’ll be nice for him to have a mom.” His smile falls, not dramatically, not with any kind of excessive sadness, but he looks a little pensive as he nods his agreement. Since we’re talking about it, I decide to go ahead and tell him, “Elise wants kids.”
His gaze returns to me. “Do you?”
I shrug. “It’s not something I ever thought was in the cards for me, but… sounds nice.”
Mateo nods. “It’s pretty nice.”
“More people to keep safe,” I mutter. “Sort of stresses me out.”
“Well, put a baby in her now and my new one will have a friend. They’ll be just like us,” he adds, smiling faintly.
“The next generation,” I say, rolling my eyes. Then I add, “Hopefully not just like us. If you turn on me and end up raising my kid, I’m going to be so pissed.”
He knows that’s only partially a joke, because he responds, “I maintain we should do a DNA test, just so we know.”
“And I maintain that I don’t want to know and it doesn’t matter. Finding out would only make you paranoid if I am.”
“But it would set my mind at ease if you weren’t,” he points out.
My eyebrows rise, since he didn’t even make a half-ass attempt to deny it. “You’re too smart to be this stupid, Mateo,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“Don’t pretend you have no ambition, Adrian,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Not nearly as much as you. You know what I do have?” I ask, meeting his gaze, because I’m so fucking serious right now, and I want him to see that. “Loyalty. To you. You want to be able to count on me, we’ve gotta stay on the same side. You have nothing I want; I have no interest in usurping you. Don’t be a dick.”
“You know how I struggle with that.” He says it like a joke as he picks up his coffee cup, but I roll my eyes, because it’s not a joke at all.
---
Turns out Castellanos was not there. Not Antonio, not Salvatore.
Didn’t stop us from taking down eight of their guys, but despite emerging the victors, all we won was a goddamn street fight. Worthless in the great scheme of things. At best, worthless—at worst, inflammatory.
My good mood subsides.
So does Mateo’s, when I have to report back to him.
Up until now, the Castellanos family didn’t want war with us—Antonio did. Now his family is likely to get on bo
ard, and Antonio is still out there somewhere, alive and calling the big-picture shots. And considering the level of his obsession with taking out Mateo up to this point, it seems likely he’ll take advantage of the turning tides and redouble his efforts.
Mateo stares pensively out the window. I’m not driving this time since I need to focus and strategize with him.
“We have to strike again,” he says. “Now, fast, as soon as we can. Don’t give them time to respond. Don’t give them time to regroup. We fired first; we have to keep at it. We have to finish this.”
I sigh, leaning back in the seat. I was already prepared for this—had our guys prepared for this—but it wasn’t how I wanted things to go. “Yeah, I know.”
“I need you to start preparing to fight dirty, too. I know you don’t want to, but you need to start putting the pieces in place. Maybe we get lucky, maybe we catch one of them skittering out from the woodwork, but just in case… I like the daughter.”
“I don’t like it,” I tell him, even though he already knows. “She’s not even important to him and it sets a bad precedent. Adds fuel to their fire. Give me a little more time.”
“I want to make a statement. They’re both hiding like cowards; I want it to be clear I’m not.”
“I understand that, but there is a target on your back right now. We can’t get to Antonio or Salvatore. My next move is the take out Rizzo, since he’s next in line. He’s not hiding; he’s calling the immediate shots right now. Let’s not take any unnecessary risks with you to prove a point.”
Mateo shakes his head, looking as tired of all this as I feel. “I just want it to be over. I don’t care what we have to do now; I just want it to end.”
I nod. “I’m working on it.”
Chapter Nineteen
The second strike is more successful than the first, in that we actually get the target we’re gunning for.
It’s less successful in that they had already prepared for us enough that they hurt a couple of our guys and killed one. Soldiers, no one crucial, but I don’t feel good about it. We’re fighting outside of our element here—this isn’t Mateo’s style. Mateo’s a thinker, a planner, a manipulator before he’s a fighter. He wins by outsmarting people more often than he wins by using muscle. Wars are won through that kind of thinking—not brute force. He knows in a lot of cases you don’t have to resort to this level of violence to get what you want—you fight smarter, not harder.
