by Sam Mariano
I sigh, wishing I could adequately explain Mateo, but I can’t. I understand why he is the way he is, but that’s because I grew up with him. It’s nothing I could possibly explain to Sal in the space of a few minutes, and even if I explained, he couldn’t understand because he has never experienced anything like our childhood. Sal also probably doesn’t want to spend all our time together talking about my brother. “He just has a hard time trusting people,” I explain.
“That’s no excuse.”
“I didn’t say it was. He doesn’t need an excuse. Who does he answer to? No one. He does what he wants. I’m only saying he has his reasons—not even just logical ones, but he has those, too. He’s seen the people closest to him betray him, and that’s after having a hellish, lonely childhood… You just, you don’t know him the way I do. I know he grew up to be a monster, but I would be more surprised if it turned out any other way, honestly.”
“A lot of people have hard lives, Francesca. Not a lot of people become tyrannical control freaks who spy on their own relatives.”
“Let’s stop talking about Mateo.” I pull out of his embrace, rolling over into my own spot. Now he’s the one engaging my protective side, and I don’t like feeling on opposite sides, especially regarding our families. Sal doesn’t understand because he has a semi-normal family. Maybe they’re not normal by most standards, but compared to mine, Sal was raised by the Waltons. He didn’t know Mateo as a kid, trying to handle everything on his own because he had literally no one in the world. I was too little to be of much help when he went through losing Adrian’s mom—and Adrian’s friendship, for a while—but I remember it. I was way too little to know how he reacted to Mom’s death a few short years earlier, but I know he found her body. I know he was a child, abandoned via death by the woman who gave him life. Left to the devices of Matt Morelli, without anything even remotely resembling a mother figure to help guide him. We may share the same monstrous father, but since I was just a useless girl, I wasn’t shown the same attention, I wasn’t raised the way he was. I wasn’t brought up to be twisted and selfish. I wasn’t brought up to rule over the family, I was brought up to respect and serve them.
I hate feeling sympathetic toward my brother, and Sal’s making me.
“I’m not trying to piss you off,” he says, frowning as he rolls on his side to look at me. “You’re usually the one coming down hard on him.”
“I know, but… he’s my brother. I’m allowed to talk shit about him.”
Understanding dawns and Sal nods. “But I’m not. Okay. That makes sense.”
“He’s also always going to be a part of my life,” I point out. “As long as we’re together, you have to deal with him—even if only through me, because he obviously doesn’t know about you.”
“Okay, I can respect that. I have siblings, I get it. It’s just hard. I know what an asshole he’s been to you, and I don’t like anyone being an asshole to you.”
“Mateo’s an asshole to everyone, but he’s still my big brother.”
“And as such, he should protect you.”
I shrug. “He has a lot on his plate. Even more now, with Vince and Mia on his radar.”
“How’s that going? That was a close fucking call. I thought I wanted Ethan to die until Mateo was hot on his trail with that girl. I realized I might feel kinda bad if I got him killed.”
I grin, rolling on my side to face him. “You big softie.”
Sal rolls his eyes.
“Maybe I could meet that sister, too. You said she and your dad don’t have much of a relationship, so it seems like she might be kinda safe.”
“They don’t, but we don’t either,” he says. “Willow and I have met a handful of times, but we don’t really have a relationship, her being a bastard and all.”
“Well, that’s not her fault,” I point out. “Technically I’m a bastard—technically Mateo’s a bastard. All of my living siblings. Only Luciana was legitimate. My dad was still married to Belle when Mom had all of us, she just ran away and he never divorced her. Technically my mom was a mistress.”
“It’s not the same thing, though.”
“Still not Willow’s fault. Does she have any other siblings, like that she’s close to?”
“She has a brother. Younger, not older. I have no idea what kind of relationship they have. I talk to Ethan more than her, and we don’t exactly search each other’s souls.”
“See. You’re an excellent older brother; you should be hers, too.”
Cracking a smile, he asks, “Why are you trying so hard to mend this relationship?”
I shrug. “I don’t get to meet your parents, so I’ll take meeting as many siblings as I can. Do you have any brothers I could meet?”
“Nope,” he says, adamantly. “I do have a brother, but he works for Dad, too, and he wouldn’t keep my secret.”
“Is he on the anti-Morelli side?”
“No, but it would be a matter of loyalty. He just couldn’t keep it from Dad. Alex is a loyal soldier type—does as he’s told and doesn’t ask why. He’s for an alliance with your family if that’s what the higher-ups decide is for the best, but he’d go to war if they said so, too.”
Dread rolls over me and I scoot closer to him, throwing an arm around his waist. “God, I hope it never comes to that.”
He sounds a lot less confident when he says, “Yeah, me too.”
As far as I know, things are okay between our families. There have been bumps, and Mateo has been convinced they were plotting against him, but that’s not an unusual suspicion for him. He doesn’t start wars over paranoid concerns, because then he’d always be at war.
“Is there any reason things wouldn’t stay friendly?”
I don’t like the way he looks at me, a mix of regret and reticence painted across his handsome face. “Remember when we agreed not to discuss this stuff? You know I can’t.”
Now he has me frowning again. I know I’m technically the one who first said we should avoid talking about that kind of thing when we first started spending time together, but that he’s the one insisting now makes me a little uncomfortable. I may talk a lot of shit about my family, I may want to break away from them and have my own life, but they’re still my family. I would be devastated if anything actually happened to them—especially if Sal was the one leading the crusade.
God, just thinking about war between our families makes me sick. I stand to lose either way. Mateo doesn’t even hold back within our household, so it’s hard to imagine he would hold any punches in a brutal fight like this would be. That could mean he’d end up hurting Sal. Maybe killing Sal. I think I might actually die if that happened. Every trace of light in my life would be erased. I don’t know how I could recover from that.
My stomach knots up and I bring my gaze back to his. “We don’t have to talk about anything you’d be afraid I would take back to him, but you have to promise me if it ever comes to an actual war, you’ll warn me. Give us a chance to figure something out.”
He hesitates. “That’s a hard promise to make, Francesca.”
“You said you’d do anything for me,” I remind him, immovably. “Now I’m asking for something. So was it bullshit, or did you mean it?”
He’s clearly not pleased that I pulled that card, but this is too important. “You know I meant it.”
“Then promise.”
“You’re asking me to betray my own family to help yours.”
“Not to help them beat you. I don’t want anything to happen to you, either. But if you hear something coming down the pipes and you tell me, maybe we can avert disaster. I can’t handle if anything happens to you, and I don’t want anything to happen to Mateo either. I don’t want to be blindsided if something crops up.”
“And if you have to choose?” he asks evenly. “If it comes down to me or him, what do you do?”
I hate everything about that question. I hate that he’s asking it, I hate the dread that sinks down into my gut, the guilt that burns
through me. There’s no winning in that scenario. I adore Sal and I can’t even imagine my world without him anymore. Or, I can imagine it, but I don’t want to. How do you go back to nothingness after knowing love? How could I play my role in my own family, knowing they were directly responsible for taking him away from me?
It’s not unfair of him to ask that, especially considering what I just asked, but it feels unfair. He probably feels the same way about what I asked. We love each other, but we’re loyal to our own families. I hate the sinking realization that our families do matter, that they could come between us. We are at peace now, so this isn’t as treasonous as it could be, but if that changed?
It would tear us apart.
Chapter Twenty One
Tonight was as close to a fight as Sal and I have ever had, and I didn’t like it.
I never did answer his question.
Eventually he let it go, pulling me close and kissing me, not wanting to waste what little time we have together fighting over things neither of us ever wants to happen. Things were a little more normal by the time he walked me out to my car, but I could still feel the underlying tension when he kissed me goodbye.
Hopelessness threatens to settle in on me.
I go straight to my bedroom when I get home, but the first thing I see is the issue of Bridal Guide I bought like a moron at the grocery store last night. I really do live in a fucking fantasy world, don’t I?
Rolling my eyes in self-disgust, I drop my purse on the bed and look around. I feel restless. I don’t want to be caged up in this bedroom.
Since my stupid brother is the root of my stress tonight, I decide to remind myself why he’s worth it and head downstairs.
Logically I know Sal is the right choice. I know I should’ve told Sal that I’d choose him if it came down to it. But 28 years of conditioning to absolute loyalty to my family combined with the hold Mateo still has on me, evoking my protectiveness at the thought of him being in actual danger…
Ugh.
I find him in his study, alone. He’s at his desk doing paperwork—probably for his legit investments. He has so much to do every day with all his different endeavors, but he shoulders it all like it’s nothing. He’s used to it. Mateo walks around with the weight of all our worlds balanced on his capable shoulders, and he somehow carries it like it gives him added strength instead of weighing him down.
I realize I’m already feeling a little generous toward him. Probably because I just stuck my neck out for him like a dumbass, allowing him to come between me and the first person who has ever given a damn about me.
Instead of walking straight to the chair in front of his desk, I go to the alcohol cart and grab myself a glass. “Want anything?”
“Sure,” he replies, shuffling the papers and setting them aside, since I’m clearly not just here to say hi.
I stare at the amber liquid as I pour it into our glasses, my problems still heavy on my mind. The craziest thought occurs to me—what if I just told him? What if I came clean? What if I appealed to him as a sister, explained that Sal is on his side? I could be sort of a bridge between our families.
Only I can’t, because Sal’s father is the head of his family, and apparently he will never accept me.
I hate the stress of keeping secrets from Mateo though. Especially because people almost never succeed in keeping secrets from Mateo, so he probably will find out. It will be just like Vince’s situation then, and considering Vince’s mood lately, that’s not an aspirational endgame.
Now I head to Mateo’s desk with the alcohol, scooting his across for him and taking a seat in the chair.
“Hard night?” he asks.
I shrug, since I can’t share, and take a gulp. I hate the taste of liquor, especially the strong-ass shit that he stocks in those decanters, but what the hell?
“You’ve been missing a lot of dinners lately,” he remarks.
Unease prickles, traveling down my spine. This was a bad idea. I need to tread carefully.
Meeting his gaze, I nod. “Yeah. I’m a little understaffed at the bakery. Sometimes it’s just easier to stay late and play catch-up by myself.” Glancing pointedly at the stack of papers on his desk, I offer a slight smile and add, “I don’t have to tell you that, though.”
Smiling faintly, he nods, glancing at the papers. “Yeah, there’s really no rest for the wicked, is there?”
“I’ll defer to your expert opinion on that,” I tell him before taking another little sip.
He laughs, grabbing his own glass.
“No Adrian tonight?” I ask.
Watching the alcohol in his glass, his amusement lessens. “No. Elise was fawning over me at dinner, so he’s pissed off at me again.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes. “You’ve gotta stop toying with her. She’s going to be his soon enough. Stop alienating him.”
“Can’t help it,” he murmurs. He doesn’t even sound happy about it, and it strikes the same sympathetic heartstrings that had me defending him to Salvatore just a little while ago.
I take a bigger gulp of my drink, sadness weighing on me. Now I’m not just sad for me, or even for me and Sal, now I’m feeling a little blue for Mateo, too. He’s such a disaster. I don’t know how someone so capable and successful can be such a horrendous mess on the inside.
“You should start dating again,” I tell him, suddenly.
He glances up at me, raising an eyebrow. “That’s random.”
“You’re less destructive when you’re in a relationship.”
His lips curve up in faint amusement. “Ah, so you have an ulterior motive for this suggestion.”
“No,” I drawl, rolling my eyes. “My life is boring, there’s not much you can wreck for me.” I manage to spit out this bold-face lie somehow, and I almost feel like I deserve a pat on the back. “But I also want you to be happier than you are, and you’d be happier if someone loved you again.”
“Until they didn’t anymore,” he says lightly.
That’s true; Mateo doesn’t take the end of relationships very well. It might not be worth the temporary peace an actual relationship would bring all of us. I’m a little afraid of what’s going to happen when Adrian leaves.
I drink more.
I realize my alcohol is gone, so I get up and grab the decanter, bringing it to the desk to save myself a trip later. He watches as I pour some more alcohol into both our glasses, then smiles when I immediately start drinking it without delay.
“Is it the bakery or my love life that’s driving you to drink?”
I swallow it down, grimacing. I wish he’d keep bottles of water in here for those of us who try to drink this shit and realize it’s a bad idea.
“Mia started at the bakery,” I say, my words feeling a little slurry. I forget to watch his face, which was the whole point of saying that. Damn. I’m a bad sleuth. I also can’t hold my liquor, I’m quickly realizing.
By the time I look at him, his face is clear of any expression—his goddamn poker face. “Yes, I saw that. After I specifically told you not to bother.”
“Well, you didn’t issue an order,” I point out. “Obviously I would’ve followed your orders like a good little fucking soldier. Like I always do. No. You were just suggesting I not waste my time, but why not? I’ve got nothing but time.”
Now he grins, taking a sip from his glass. “You’re already getting drunk, you lightweight.”
My face feels funny. I open and close my mouth, shifting my jaw side to side. What a weird feeling.
Mateo reaches across the desk and slides my glass away from me.
“Hey!” I object, reaching for it and scowling at him. He lets me have it, so I hurry up and take another drink in case he takes it again.
“I don’t think you need to drink the rest,” he informs me.
“I do. It’s making me think of good advice.”
“Oh, wonderful,” he says dryly.
I nod, even though he was being sarcastic. “It is. First, st
op feeding Elise’s crush on you so Adrian doesn’t keep getting hurt by it.”
“I’m talking to Elise tomorrow, actually. About their little…” He waves his hand, rolling his eyes.
“About her going with him?” I ask brightly. “Aw, that’s nice.”
“Nicer if she finds the idea appealing, but sure, it’s a good first step.”
I nod vigorously. “And when she says yes, stop feeding into it. Let her nurse an interest in Adrian. He’s more than earned it.”
Indicating his pen and notepad nearby, he asks nonchalantly, “Should I be taking notes?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding decisively. “And second—I think it was second. Was that just one thing? I don’t know. Secondly, it’s time to get over Beth.”
His amusement swiftly evaporates, but I’m too drunk to stop.
“I know she hurt you and she was the worst. I know the whole having to kill her thing sucked hard. But closing yourself off to actual human connections isn’t the answer. You need them more than anyone I’ve ever met. Meaningless hook-ups don’t count. That’s not connecting. You need to fall in love again. You need someone to love you, because having someone love you is incredible and I want that for you.”
He tips his glass back and drains it, then calmly stands, grabbing the decanter and taking it back over to the alcohol cart.
“I think it would be good for Isabella, too,” I add, because I do not know when to stop. “You don’t want her to grow up like we did. She needs a mother. Kids need mothers. I’m sorry we didn’t have one.”
Now Mateo returns to my side, helping me out of the chair and letting go to see if I can walk.
I totally can, I just weave a bit.
He ushers me toward the door.
“You can kick me out all you want,” I proclaim, “I speak the truth.”
“I’ll take it under recommendation,” he says dryly. “Do you need me to walk you to your bedroom?”
“No.” I grasp onto the doorframe as I step into the hall. “I’m fine.” Before I head off on the treacherous climb up the stairs, I turn back to point in his face. “I love you, you know.”
