by Sam Mariano
“Don’t you think you should turn that off? I don’t think they’re plotting against you right now.”
His dark eyes sparkle with amusement. “Don’t be such a prig, Francesca.”
“Does she live here now?” I don’t want to look at the monitor, but I steal another peek. I wonder if anyone has warned her about the cameras. Someone probably should. I don’t take her to be much of a plotter, but if she’s living here now and Mateo is going to be spying, someone should at least tell the poor girl to change clothes in the bathroom.
Mateo nods, his gaze drifting back to the screen, too. He smirks faintly as Vince unzips her dress. “I think he likes the dress I bought her,” he remarks, like I’ll be amused with him.
I am not. Shaking my head, I take a step back so I’m not tempted to look at the monitor anymore. “She’s a teenager.”
“They’re both 18. As many laws as he breaks, this isn’t one of them.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “I obviously meant this,” I tell him, indicating the monitors. “If you want to see naked teenage girls, I have really good news for you—porn is a thing. It exists. You can watch naked strangers have all the sex you want without invading the privacy of the people living under your roof.”
Now he grins at me. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“If I have to answer that, maybe you don’t understand the point of sex.”
Shrugging, he looks back at the monitor. “This isn’t for kicks; I’m doing research.”
“The dinner went well. She lives here now. She’s with Vince. Isn’t this resolved? Why do you still need to research?”
Mateo doesn’t bother answering me. He’s losing interest in my presence here. It works out for me, since I don’t really want to stay in here anyway. I’m half-tempted to go upstairs and interrupt Vince and Mia, but I figure there’s not much point. Whatever he’s “researching,” he’ll just come back another night if he doesn’t get what he’s looking for this time.
“When she gets settled in, maybe she could help out at the bakery,” I suggest.
Mateo shakes his head—not firmly, but more dismissively. “I wouldn’t go to the trouble of training her. I don’t think she’ll be around for long.”
Now I frown. “What do you mean? She’s moving in—that seems long-term to me.”
His tone couldn’t be more dismissive. “They’re 18.”
“So why move her in if you think they’re just going to break up?”
Instead of answering, he picks up the headphones, readying to put them back on. He glances at me one last time, as a courtesy. “Did you need anything else?”
Nodding once in acceptance of my dismissal, I say, “Nope, just wondered how your night went.”
“Well, now you know.”
I nod again, backing up and pushing on the panel. I pause in the doorway, glancing back at him as he turns his attention back to his surveillance. I can’t shake the feeling that I should be worried about this. Vince immediately jumped to the conclusion that Mateo was going to try to break them up when he agreed to let the girl move in, but I wanted to believe otherwise for Vince’s sake.
Now I’m not so sure. I don’t know if he wants to break them up or kill her, but if he doesn’t plan on Mia sticking around, that means heartache for Vince one way or another.
---
It’s our first Sunday night dinner with another woman living under our roof, so I’m actually going to have help tonight. Help with the cooking, at least. Since Mia belongs to Vince, she’ll only serve him and I’ll still be the family waitress, but I’m used to doing everything myself anyway.
As I run through tonight’s menu and grab the necessary accoutrements, I can’t help daydreaming about what it would be like if Sal could come to family dinner. If I had my very own man at the table. Given he’s regrettably in the same line of work as Mateo, they’d probably get along well enough. I know Mateo doesn’t hate Sal. Now that I’ve gotten to know Sal so well though, it’s clear they’re nothing alike. From reputation alone I expected them to be, but where Mateo is cold, Sal is warm.
I can’t even contain a dreamy sigh as Mia makes her way into the kitchen. I pull myself together, putting on a friendly smile, and she tosses a polite smile my way, too. I wasn’t lying when I told Mateo I think she’s really nice. Even after I basically broke her and Vince up the first time, she’s been friendly toward me every time I’ve seen her since Mateo dragged her into this family.
She’s fitting in really well though. All things considered, she seems pretty happy to be here. I expected her adjustment to take much longer, but Mia rolls with the punches—that’ll probably benefit her within this family, in the long run.
Though Mateo’s words from the other night flit through my mind—about her not sticking around. I hope he isn’t planning on hurting her. I understand she saw something she shouldn’t have and it could potentially put Vince and Adrian at risk, but I wish he’d let it go. I wish it wouldn’t have been Adrian with Vince that night—Mateo would probably let it go more easily if it would’ve only been Vince.
Blissfully unaware, Mia clasps her hand together and glances around the kitchen. “God, everything in this house is so big. You could have a party in here.”
I rake a brief glance over her. It’s her first Sunday night dinner, so she’s already dressed for one. Vince bought her a couple new dresses after Mateo pulled his shit, and she’s wearing one of them now. With her cute red cocktail dress and big, loose curls, she looks like she’s ready to play hostess.
“I love your shoes,” I remark, nodding at the black Christian Louboutins on her feet.
Her eyes widen and she steps forward, instantly finding common ground. “Aren’t they the most beautiful shoes you’ve ever seen? I hope Vince doesn’t hold a grudge against them for all the trouble they caused, because I’m going to wear them forever.”
Smiling faintly, I assure her, “Vince doesn’t notice that stuff. You could probably tell him it’s a pair he bought and he wouldn’t know the difference.”
Mia nods appreciatively. “Good note; thanks.”
She asks me what she should do to help with dinner, but to be honest, I’m not sure. I’m so accustomed to doing Sunday dinners on my own these days, I sort of have my own system. I tell her she can throw together the stuff for salads. That should be simple enough and keep her out of my way.
Cherie comes in next, flashing me a smile and heading to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.
“Hey, Mia,” she says brightly.
Mia musters a faint smile, but noticeably dims. “Hey, Cherie.”
That’s weird. I thought they were friendly. Cherie and I are pretty pro-Vince, so if Mia wants to align herself on the right side of things, she probably should be.
“Sorry I’m late,” Cherie tells me. “Mom and Elise were finishing up an intense game of Scrabble and I couldn’t leave until I knew who emerged the victor.”
“Who was it?”
“Mom. I think Elise lets her win sometimes,” Cherie states. “I know she used to play Adrian, and she had to have been better than she is with her little three letter words or he would’ve died of boredom.”
I can’t help smiling. “Maybe not. I’m sure he enjoyed playing with Elise, whether or not she was a worthy opponent.”
“Are we talking about scary Adrian?” Mia inquires.
Cherie rolls her eyes, grinning. “Adrian isn’t scary.”
Mia’s eyebrows rise. “Maybe we have different experiences with him.”
“He used to tutor me when I was a kid,” she informs Mia. “He’s actually a sweetheart; he just made the common mistake of getting pulled into Mateo’s bullshit.”
“Okay,” I say, shooting Cherie a warning look. Let’s not start ranting against Mateo when he’s still monitoring the new person in the house. I understand and agree with the need to warn Mia about him, but Cherie has a tendency to just be openly anti-Mateo. Cherie gets away with it, but Mia won’t, so I don�
��t want her to think that’s the way of things.
“How come Mateo’s daughter doesn’t come to family dinner?” Mia suddenly asks, glancing up from the grape tomatoes she’s slicing in half. “I mean, there’s literally no closer family than his daughter, right?”
“Kids never come,” I explain. “Nobody’s kids come unless it’s a holiday dinner. When they become teenagers, then they join us at the table.”
“But why? I can’t imagine me and my mom having dinner without my siblings every night. I would feel so mean.”
I offer a smile. “Isabella doesn’t know any other way, so she doesn’t think it’s mean. Mateo just likes certain things kept separate. It’s always been like that. When we were kids, we didn’t come to family dinners either. Until we were 12, we ate with our nanny.”
Mia shakes her head, looking a little dazed. “You guys with your nannies and maids.”
“Poor little rich kids,” I say lightly.
She gets me thinking a little about my childhood, though, which makes me start thinking about how different Sal’s was. I know it’s completely impossible, but I wish things were different. I wish Sal and I could have our own little kids someday, dark-haired, roguish beauties like their daddy. They could have dinner with us every night.
Glancing over at Cherie, then Mia, I see they’re both adequately busy. I turn around, stepping toward the pantry. “I’m going to check the wine stores.”
Cherie doesn’t care, and Mia’s never been here before, so she just shrugs and goes back to salad prep. Meanwhile I pop into the pantry, closing the door behind me, and fish my cell phone out of the pocket I asked Maria to sew into a few of my dresses. I can’t manage it with all of them, since I wear a lot of sheaths and Mateo would notice the outline. I could just have my phone, of course, but if he ever saw this one—a different color—he would immediately know something is wrong.
Usually I avoid taking risks like this, especially for no real reason, but I just want to reach out to Sal. Sometimes it still doesn’t feel like he’s real. Sometimes he feels like the adult version of my childhood fantasies, and I’m terrified he’ll disappear.
No one’s ever made me feel the way he does. Cherished. He makes me feel cherished.
Just seeing our message chain on my phone makes me smile. I pause with my thumb hovering over the screen, unsure what I want to write. He probably won’t respond. I usually don’t text him on Sundays since Mateo is here all day, plus I know Sal does his own family thing most Sundays.
I end up settling on the truth. “I miss you.”
To my surprise, he reads the message and responds immediately. “I miss you too.”
“Family dinner sucks,” I add.
He sends back a little wink, and makes my heart ache with, “That’s because you’re with the wrong family.”
Sighing, I press the phone to my chest, overcome with a stab of longing so intense I actually ache. God, what I would give to be his family. His father is obviously the worst, but I’d rather meet his mom and visit Maddie than have to navigate the waters solo here.
Tucking the phone away, I check the wine while I’m in here and head back to the kitchen.
Cherie is still at the counter, but Mia is no longer in the kitchen. I frown, going over to peer in the dining room, but she’s not there, either.
“Where’d Mia go?”
“Oh, I sent her to do drinks in the study. I figured we pretty much have a system in here on Sundays, so that’ll give her something to do.”
Now I’m in a tricky situation. I don’t want Mia to be around Mateo more than she has to be, but I also don’t want to alarm Cherie. She doesn’t like him anyway, and she’ll run to Vince if I give her even half a reason. Since Vince is just recovering from trying to keep an enormous secret from Mateo, the last thing I want to do is spark more trouble between them.
“That’s fine tonight, but for future reference, could you do drinks and leave her in here with me?”
Cherie frowns slightly. “Sure. Are you sick of me?” she jokes.
“I just think it’s better to keep her with the girls. Plus if she and Vince are going to be together, she should probably learn how to run things in here on Sundays.”
Accepting this easily enough, Cherie nods. “Okay, no problem.”
Chapter Twenty
Over the next few weeks Mia’s effect on my life is incontestably good; Mateo is so far out of my business, I’m able to sneak away a lot more to see Sal. Seeing a lot more of Sal is heaven, but my yearning for more grows every time I see him. Leaving him is the worst, and it’s clear he feels the same way.
I really wasn’t sure good men existed, just bad men who fell at different spots along the spectrum, but Salvatore is a good man. He treats me like treasured gold, he’s been so incredibly patient, and I know he can’t enjoy being stuck at home every time we’re together like we’ve been married for 40 years, but he never complains. From the little he’s told me about his social life prior to me, I don’t think he usually stayed in with his girlfriends.
Especially Vivian. I’ve asked about Vivian on more than one occasion. I know Sal’s only interested in me, but I saw the way she looked at him when I was there. Her lack of hostility toward me didn’t mean anything; she figured I was just like any other girl he got involved with and I’d be through the revolving door before long so she could slip back in.
I’m not proud, but I’ve stalked her on social media. I’ve seen the messages Sal’s mom leaves on her pictures. They make me so sad.
If my brother knew about us, I swear I’d be tempted to send Adrian to have a chat with her.
Though, I suppose if my brother knew about us, Sal’s parents would probably know. Maybe then his mom—Yvonne Castellanos, that’s her name—would be commenting all over my pictures.
Jealousy sucks.
Especially when I’m not even jealous because of my boyfriend, but because some dumb girl he slept with ages ago is allowed to talk to his mom and I can’t.
Ugh.
Just as I’m closing up at the bakery, I check my phone one more time and smile when I see Sal’s name. “Don’t be mad. I impulse ordered a dozen doughnuts to go with the Chinese food.”
Grinning, I type out, “Why would I be mad? I love doughnuts.”
“Because I only ordered a dozen, so obviously you can’t have any. Bring your own dessert.”
I’m feeling a little feisty, so I shoot back, “You can be my dessert.”
“You are killing me,” he sends back immediately.
I stuff my phone back in my bag and flip off the lights, closing up the bakery so I can meet Sal at home for dinner.
Rather, his home.
I’ve caught myself thinking of it simply as home a few times. The first time it was jarring, but since then I’ve accepted it. Of course I feel more at home with Sal than the house I grew up in; there’s only ever been love in one of those places.
We finally finished Entourage. We had a series finale party with Maddie and Mark when we went through the last couple of episodes. We were all drunk by the time the show ended and I don’t remember what happened, but I don’t think I could tell you three things about the show anyway. Maddie determined I needed to pay Sal back, but I didn’t know what to make him watch. She told me she would send over the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. We’re watching it now, and Sal is not thrilled.
He’d do anything for me though, and it makes me feel like a billion dollars.
After Chinese food, doughnuts, and tonight’s episode of Pride and Prejudice, we move to the bedroom. Since I can’t sleep over often, we have to do our nights a little differently to get the same experience. I get up super early to open the bakery anyway, so I’m always tired in the evening. After sex, I fall asleep about half the time. I always feel bad after, when he regretfully wakes me up to tell me we have to get up so I can go home. It’s the last thing in the world I ever want to do—I just want to stay with him. Going back to that empty mansion no
w, after a night filled with cozy closeness and love, is so much worse than it ever was when I didn’t have anything else. In that way, having Sal is hard. Every hour of most days, there’s somewhere else I want to be, another life I want to be living, and I can’t.
Sal doesn’t seem to think Dante and Delmonico are in league to betray Mateo, either. I should be relieved, but I’m disappointed instead. Wiping out Dante and Delmonico and doing something Mateo would see as loyal? There would have been no downside. Mateo rewards unexpected loyalty, and he certainly wouldn’t expect it from a Castellanos.
Sal’s arm is wrapped protectively around me in bed as I lie across his chest, sated and half-asleep.
“You’re gonna fall asleep on me again, aren’t you?”
I smile sleepily, tilting my head so I can look up at him. “Probably. I like sleeping with you.”
“I like sleeping with you, too. Except the waking you up part. I hate that.”
“Me too. Always means it’s time to leave.”
“Would your brother ever let you move out?” he asks. “I mean, I know he wouldn’t let you move in with me, but what about your own place? I’m not at all opposed to spending my nights somewhere else if it means spending them with you.”
“I wish. And he might, if I asked, but my assumption is he would put me at one of his properties.”
“So what?”
“So, if I ask to leave all of a sudden, he’ll probably wonder why. And if he puts me at one of his properties, he can set up surveillance on the place before I move in. He has hidden cameras—like, those nanny cam things that you build into clocks and stuff. The sneaky ones. So I could never trust my surroundings, because even if he didn’t do that, I would feel like he did. I could definitely never have you over.”
“Goddamn it, Mateo.”
I nod my agreement. “He’s a tricky one.”
“Why can’t he let people have a little privacy? That’s fucked up.”
