by Sam Mariano
Remembering what started this whole mess, I do murmur, “Please don’t finish inside me.”
Then, out of spite, I guess, he groans against my mouth as he buries himself deep, coming as deep inside me as he possibly can.
He remains inside me afterward, but he’s spent, so he relaxes against me. I lay motionless, blessedly empty on an emotional level, but so aware of him still filling me physically.
It takes two to tango, I remember saying.
But Cherie was right.
It doesn’t.
Chapter Twenty Four
I don’t know where to go when Mateo’s done with me.
He climbs off the bed, retrieving his gun from the night stand, and gets himself cleaned up and dressed. I don’t move. Dread has swallowed me up. I don’t know where I go from here. What happens to me.
Does he send me back to Vince’s room?
Does Vince really know? What does Vince know?
Oh, God. Vince.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I try to turn my feelings back off. I can’t process them right now, I just need… nothingness.
Once he’s finished, Mateo looks as good as he did at the breakfast table, all decked out in his sharp suit. You can’t tell there’s a monster inside him. His hair’s a little more tousled than it was prior to our struggle, but wouldn’t you know, it looks good on him.
Tears form in my eyes again, but I’m not even sure what they’re from.
“You can stay in here if you want,” he offers. “Vince won’t come in here.”
“What did you tell him?” I ask quietly.
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
I sigh tiredly. “What does he know?”
“Enough,” he says simply.
I hesitate, hating the question so much I don’t want to ask, but I ask anyway, because I have to. “What is he… what is he going to do to me?”
“I’m not sure,” he says honestly.
My last vestige of safety, gone.
“I won’t let him kill you,” he says.
I guess I’m supposed to be grateful.
I’m not.
It looks like he’s about to move away from the bed, but he stops, leaning over to look at me. “I know you’re angry right now, hurt, scared, but you should know this doesn’t change anything. Like me or hate me, you will remain loyal to me. You speak a word about anything you shouldn’t, and I will end you.”
I can’t believe he’s making me declare my goddamn allegiance to him moments after raping me, but I give a brief nod. “I know.”
“Good,” he says, taking a step back. “Take all the time you need.”
And with that, Mateo Morelli leaves me, a broken mess, in his goddamn bed.
---
I don’t know how long I remain hidden in his room, but it feels like an eternity.
Eventually, I drag my body from his bed and into his bathroom—his huge, ridiculous fucking bathroom. There’s furniture inside. Who needs furniture in their bathroom? A chaise is angled in front of the tub, like he sits there, watching people bathe. Who would ever even use it? And if for some reason you needed to? There’s a goddamn cushioned window seat along the wall.
I’m disgusted instead of impressed by the excess now. His fucking bathroom is bigger than my mother’s living room—and it’s not even close.
The shower stall is huge, too, and impeccably clean. I’m relieved, because I wind up sitting in the corner under the spray, sobbing.
When all the hot water is gone, I finally pull myself up and get out. I don’t have any clean clothes and I’m too afraid to go to Vince’s room to get any, but none of the maids have come to check on me, so I can’t even ask them to bring me a change.
Finally, I emerge from Mateo’s master suite in the clothes I dressed in this morning, an eternity ago. Terror keeps my steps slow, wondering if Vince is home, if anyone will pass me in the hallway and know where I’m coming from. I can’t help but assume everyone knows, and everyone hates me now.
They all tried to warn me, after all.
Even Mateo knew that.
I find one of the sitting rooms without coming into contact with anyone, so I stop there, thinking maybe I’ll stay. It’s sparsely furnished and not exactly cozy since it’s one of the aggressively untouched, secondary sitting areas, but I don’t know what awaits me where the people are.
I assume Vince is home by now. I don’t know what time it is, but it seems like enough time has passed. Unless he isn’t coming home at all. Maybe he’s abandoning me here with Mateo; maybe he’s too disappointed even to confront me.
I wish I knew what he’d been told. At least then I could try to prepare for it.
Nobody finds me, and after a while I leave the sitting room. The huge house suddenly seems very lonely, and I wonder if it feels this way to everyone else. I’ve been so dazzled by it up until now, but ultimately it’s too big. Even for so many people.
Maria comes down the hall as I meander off to nowhere, pausing when she sees me. It looked like she was in a hurry, so I’m surprised when she stops.
We just stand there, staring at each other.
“There’s an empty room in Francesca’s wing,” she finally says. “I can’t put you there or promise they’ll let you stay, but if you’re looking for somewhere to…”
Hide. She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t need to. The fact that she knows I should worries me.
“Is… anyone here?” I ask.
“Vince just got home. Not happy.”
My stomach sinks. I realize I was hoping he would stay away, at least for today.
“He’s looking for you,” she adds. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be easy to find.”
I nod woodenly, but I continue toward the main hall instead of changing directions and heading for Francesca’s. “He’ll find me eventually.”
She crosses herself before walking away. I don’t take it as a good sign.
I’m not sure if it’s a low point, exactly, but I’m legitimately terrified Vince is going to hurt me. I don’t want to believe he ever would, but given how angry he got over far less, it seems a likely outcome.
What I’m hoping is he’ll surprise me. Instead of angry at me, he’ll be hurt with me. He’ll hold me, comfort me, take me back to our bedroom.
“I don’t need you fucking following me, Adrian.”
The sound of Vince’s voice freezes me in my tracks. He’s just around the next corner. I’m tempted to turn back and change my mind, but I don’t, because there’s no time.
Adrian’s voice is low, gravelly as he tells him, “I just want to make sure you don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
If he was going to respond to Adrian, he doesn’t. His eyes land on me and he stops short. I hold his gaze for a few seconds, neither of us moving. Adrian still takes a couple steps forward, eyeing me warily.
Then Vince is in motion, eyes narrowed and more or less vibrating with rage.
“You’re fucking him?”
I shake my head, unmoving, tears welling up in my eyes. “No.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Mia,” he snaps.
“I’m not. I’m not. I didn’t know, Vince. I didn’t—”
“How the fuck do you not know?” he demands, grabbing me by the wrists and pushing me up against the wall.
I cry out, not because he hurt me, but because I’m afraid he’s going to. “I’m sorry,” I say, not even struggling against his hold. “You were right about everything and I should’ve listened… I should’ve listened, but I believed him,” I say, choking on a sob. “I didn’t think he was… but he is, and I’m so sorry.”
“Now that you’ve fucked him you’re sorry? Isn’t that convenient!”
“I didn’t,” I cry, face crumbling. “Stop saying that, I didn’t…”
“In my bed, Mia. In my fucking bed.”
“I thought he was you!” I cry. Whether he likes it or not, it’s the truth. “I was asleep, it was the middle of t
he night in our room and I thought you came home—why would I ever think it could be anyone else?”
“You have eyes, don’t you?” he demands, his own eyes widening with belligerence.
I shake my head, looking away from him. “I wasn’t facing him. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I didn’t know, Vince. I didn’t do it to hurt you, I didn’t even know. He manipulated me, just like you said.”
“How many times, Mia?”
At first I think he’s asking how many times I was with Mateo, but before I can answer, he continues.
“How many times did I try to tell you? I tried so fucking hard to protect you.”
Adrian hasn’t moved to interfere, but at this, he takes a step forward. “Vince, come on.”
“What?” he practically roars, glaring at Adrian.
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Adrian states.
I’m a sobbing mess, but I look up, surprised Adrian would say anything in my defense.
“You know that,” Adrian states, shaking his head. “This was always going to happen; it was just a matter of how and when. You knew that.”
“And I tried to stop it,” he states.
“But nothing could have,” he points out. “You know who he is. Maybe Mia didn’t, but you did. If he couldn’t have tricked her into docility, he would have hurt her. The end result would have been the same.”
“Stay out of this,” Vince says lowly.
Nodding once, Adrian eyes up Vince’s hands on me. “Why don’t you let go of her and I will.”
“This isn’t your fucking business,” he states, eyes narrowing.
“I’m okay,” I tell Adrian, nodding. “Really. I understand why he’s…angry.”
“Don’t sink to his level,” Adrian says to Vince.
At that Vince laughs. He drops my arms and takes a step back, spinning around a little wildly. “Maybe I’m just fighting the inevitable, Adrian. Ever think of that? They’re all like this. Every fucking one of them. And you know what, shit like this doesn’t happen to them. They do shit like this, but it’s never done to them.” Spinning back around to me, he glares with such anger, such hatred, that it nearly knocks the breath right out of me. “How am I supposed to look at you now, Mia?”
Lip trembling, I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
“How many times did you fuck him?”
“Never,” I say. “I never—”
“Just…” He holds a hand up, stopping me. “Once? Twice? More?”
I bow my head, wishing I could disappear. I refuse to answer, I don’t care how many times he asks. Instead I repeat, “I’m sorry. I wish I would’ve listened to you. Trust me, I can’t feel worse than I already do. Nothing you say to me could make this worse—he’s humiliated me enough for both of you.”
He’s still shaking his head, still practically shaking with fury, but his voice is low and unsteady when he says, “I loved you.”
I was wrong.
There was something he could say to make it hurt worse.
A sob bursts out of me, followed by a cluster of hitching breaths, and I sink to the floor, overcome with a feeling of immense loss. Whatever we could have been, whatever we could have had, it was gone. He didn’t want me anymore.
Pushing out an unsteady breath, Vince clears his throat. I look up through my tears, seeing his eyes look a little red, too.
Shaking his head one last time, he turns around and disappears down the hall the way he came.
---
The rest of the day melts away.
With nowhere else to go, Adrian takes me back to Mateo’s room. I would be cynically amused at having to return to the bed where I was raped, but that would require feeling something, and I’m dead empty at this point.
I don’t even flinch when Mateo comes into the room at the end of the day, flicking a glance at me before beginning to undress for the night.
I’m unresponsive when he climbs into bed with me, reminding me of those stupid fucking nights he came to Vince’s room.
“That was a long day, wasn’t it?” he murmurs.
His arm curls around me, like we’re lovers. I don’t attempt to move it, not even when he begins touching me, palming my breasts through my clothing, slipping the button of my jeans through the hole and tugging them down.
I don’t fight when he takes them off, or when he climbs between my legs. I don’t even respond when he enters me dry, painfully, forcing his way even more than he had to this morning, when there was at least some lubrication.
I don’t cry when he comes inside me again.
I don’t object when he gets back into bed afterward and pulls me against him, like we’re fucking snuggling.
I don’t care.
What’s the point?
“Have I broken you already?” he asks lowly, sounding almost disappointed. Not at having possibly damaged me, but that his fun is over, I think.
I don’t know the answer to that question, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t dignify it with a response.
---
He takes my body again the following morning before he gets up and goes to shower. I wonder numbly what Vince would think of how quickly the number is climbing, but thinking Vince’s name pierces the veil of numbness and causes pain, so I stop.
Once Mateo leaves, the door opens and Adrian steps inside. “Are you okay?”
I offer a weak nod.
“Do you want some breakfast? Do you need…anything?”
I shake my head again, but then I pause. “Actually, yes. Get me Elise.”
Surprise flashes across his features briefly, his gaze moving from me to the bed, then back. “Elise?”
I nod.
“Okay,” he finally says, backing out of the room.
It takes a little while, but eventually there’s a light knock at the door and Elise’s blonde head pops in. “Hello,” she greets, smiling until she sees me. “Oh, Mia. Hi.”
“Hi.”
Her gaze rakes over me, over the bed, confused. I guess her confusion at my being in Mateo’s bed indicates everyone doesn’t know, but it’s hard to feel any relief. They will soon enough.
“What can I do for you?” she asks, a little haltingly.
I sit up, wrapping the top bed sheet around my body and dragging the comforter onto the floor as I push up off the bed. Elise gasps at the streaks of blood on the sheets, her cheeks turning pink.
“Oh, dear. Do you need me to get you something for your monthly?”
“That’s not from my monthly,” I say simply.
She stares at the sheets for a moment, then at me, at my bedraggled, dead-eyed appearance. Dread clouds over her clear blue eyes, but I don’t torture her further.
“I need to get in the shower. Could you please see that they’ve been changed before I get out?”
Nodding with her eyes locked on the bed, she murmurs, “Of course.”
Chapter Twenty Five
I don’t get out of bed to do more than shower or pee until Sunday. Mateo makes me eat breakfast, even though it makes me feel ill, and I would stay here in my dead little shell for much longer, only he doesn’t let me.
Draping a new garment bag across the foot of the bed, he says, “Time to get up.”
“Why?”
“It’s family dinner day. Mandatory.”
“Still?”
He merely smiles.
I’m not prepared for this hell, but I force myself to shower and get dressed. The new dress is white and sleeveless, high necked, but tightly fitted. Gazing at myself in Mateo’s bathroom mirror, I consider the irony that he’s dressing me in white now that I’m sullied beyond redemption.
For shoes, he had my Louboutins brought in. I didn’t think anything could make me stop loving those damn shoes, but boy, he managed to find a way.
It’s the first I’ve really seen anybody in four days, so I guess it’s not surprising that everyone I come across stares before awkwardly saying hello. Despite my dark mood
, I managed to pull it together physically, and I don’t look as horrible as I feel.
I expect Cherie to hate me, since she’s Vince’s sister, so I’m surprised when she wraps an arm around me in the kitchen and asks, “You okay?”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
Francesca avoids my gaze, and when it’s time to serve the food, I understand why.
I grab two plates, dropping Mateo’s cranberries on his, and none on the salad for Vince.
As gently as I think she can, Francesca takes Vince’s plate. “I got this one.”
I close my eyes, bracing myself on the edge of the counter. I get it now, why Vince was so pissed about it before. Not only have I been stripped of my relationship, now I’m going to walk out there and his entire family is going to see the evidence.
Worse, they’re going to see me only serving Mateo now.
Steeling myself for whatever’s about to come, I grab Mateo’s salad and head for the dining room. My eyes find Vince immediately, expecting him to have moved, but he’s in the same spot as always, my seat open next to him. My heart skips a beat, realizing they didn’t move my spot, so I’ll still be stuck between them.
Perfect.
Vince looks up when I walk in, hurt transforming his features at the sight of me. His gaze moves over my body, unfortunately prominently displayed in this tight-ass dress, and comes to settle on the single salad plate in my hand.
I feel like I’m stepping on his heart with the heel of my stiletto when I stop by Mateo, putting it down in front of him.
Vince’s hands are clenched into fists on the table, and I see him squeeze, his jaw locked so tightly it looks painful.
I go back and get my salad, even though there’s no chance I’ll be able to eat.
I slide into the seat next to Vince, scooting forward, willing myself just to push the food around as long as I have to.
I don’t expect Vince to speak to me, so I’m more than a little surprised when he says, “You look pretty.”
I dare a glance in his direction, but his eyes are glued on the glass of alcohol on the table in front of him.
