by Sam Mariano
Elise doesn’t stay and try to convince me since she needs to go start dinner, but her words linger long after she’s gone. I can’t tamp down the horrible imagery her words inspire. Memories more than imagery, I guess. I know first-hand what sexual violence feels like. Mine was with someone I at least chose to be with, but my heart beats irregularly in my chest as I try to wrap my head around Mia in Mateo’s bed, and him hurting her.
I know my brother is a bastard, but a rapist?
Anger and adrenaline mix together. I’m tempted to go check on Mia, but I can’t. I’m too cowardly to face her if Elise is right, and Mateo may be a liar, but he’s not one to shirk accountability, so I go straight to the source.
Adrian is in the room with him, but no one else. I shouldn’t blow up at him with witnesses, but at this point I’m feeling so much pressure smoke should be coming out of my ears; I couldn’t stop myself if the Pope was visiting.
He opens his mouth to greet me, but I don’t even let him speak. “Did you rape Mia?”
Out of my peripherals, I see Adrian rock forward, covering his face with his hands. I hold Mateo’s gaze though, and he holds mine. He doesn’t say a word, and that’s answer enough. He should be offended by such a question. His face should show signs of disgust that I would ever think such a thing, let alone insult him by asking.
It doesn’t. His face remains guarded, but impassive.
“You really did, didn’t you? What is wrong with you? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ordinarily he might cut off my anger, interrupting with an authoritative “that’s enough,” to let me know not to push. He doesn’t now, though. He laces his fingers together across his torso and keeps watching, like he’s waiting patiently for me to unleash the rest of my anger on him.
I’m furious at the burn of tears behind my eyes. “This is unforgivable. There was no reason for you to do something like this. What were you thinking? If you wanted her, you could’ve easily seduced her. You know that. I know that. Fuck, Vince knows that. Instead you chose to hurt her? You’re a monster. Is this because you wanted to break them up? Please tell me this isn’t because of what I said.”
I don’t mean that literally, because I don’t imagine he would give me that kind of assurance, but he does at least surprise me by saying levelly, “Of course it’s not.”
I should feel relieved, but I don’t. My chest is too thick with the knowledge of this crime against Mia. I feel like throwing up. My own brother…
“I’m so disappointed in you,” I tell him, but I’m out of steam. I’m going to break down crying if I stand here for even another minute, so I turn and leave, slamming the study door shut behind me.
I don’t take the time to tell Sal I’m coming over, so when he comes to the door, he is understandably alarmed.
“Francesca?” His gray eyes sharpen as he comprehends my emotional state. His arms open wide and I walk right into them, securing my arms around him tightly and burying my face in his chest. “What happened?” he asks, alert. “What’s wrong?” He pulls back to look me over again, as if he’d see evidence of whatever’s hurting me. “Are you okay?”
“Mateo did something horrible,” I state, burying my face in his chest again.
“To you?” Sal asks, his voice rising with anger.
“No, not to me. To Mia.”
I feel him relax. I want to tell him that’s not fair, just because she isn’t me doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve his anger, but I guess I understand his relief that I’m all right.
“Vince’s girl? Did he finally kill her?”
“What?”
I pull back, alarmed at the sound of Mark’s voice. I hadn’t even looked past Sal to see he wasn’t alone, that Mark was sitting on the couch, but now he’s halfway across the room to me.
“No, he didn’t kill her.” I stop though, unsure how much I want to say. I don’t know why I didn’t consider that since I wasn’t coming over, Sal probably had other plans. He doesn’t really hang out by himself; he’s always with someone.
Mark is as alert as Sal was just a second ago. “What did he do to Mia?”
I’m hardly comfortable telling Salvatore what Mateo did, but I certainly can’t tell Mark. It wouldn’t be fair to Mia. It’s not my place to share her experiences with the whole world.
Oh my God, poor Mia. I feel so horrible for her. I don’t know what to do about it, though. Right now I just hug Sal and let him comfort me.
I want him to save me. I want him to whisk me away from the dysfunctional house I grew up in. I wish I could make a real home with him.
At least I have this escape though. At least I can come to him for shelter from the storms my goddamn brother unleashes under our roof.
---
I don’t know why I don’t expect Mia to come to family dinner on Sunday. I guess since she stopped coming to the other ones, I assumed she was relegated to his actual prisoner now. Maybe he’s not stowing her in the dungeon like Dad used to do, but he’s adopting a slightly softer version of Dad’s bullshit habits.
Mia shows up in the kitchen alone, but Mateo comes to check on her—to make sure she showed up, I think. My heart sinks for her, having to endure his presence, but she barely glances at him, then she goes right back to chopping peppers. I probably wouldn’t have given her a knife if I knew he’d be coming to the kitchen tonight.
Once he catches my gaze, he nods for me to join him out in the hall.
I’m still absolutely disgusted with him, but I’d rather get him away from Mia than be difficult, so I follow him.
“What?” I ask, shortly.
“She only serves me now.”
For the millionth time, my stomach sinks with dread. “You’re taking that from him, too?”
Mateo rolls his eyes. “I’ve already taken everything else, why not?”
“She shouldn’t have to serve you at all after what you’ve done to her,” I inform him, firmly disgusted that he’s adding insult to injury. “She’s not your woman, she’s your prey. Just let her serve Vince and I’ll bring you yours.”
“Nope.”
“You’re a sick bastard.”
“I know,” he says, unconcerned. “Just tell her so she knows—unless you’d rather I go tell her myself?”
Resentment bubbles up inside as I cross my arms defensively, but I shake my head. I don’t want him going anywhere near her, and he knows it. “I’ll enforce it if that’s what you want. I don’t understand why you made her come to dinner at all.”
“I’ve given her all week to herself. Time to get back to normal.”
“Normal is her with Vince,” I state.
Cutting me a look of mild annoyance before he turns away, he says, “Not anymore.”
“Why are you being so awful to her?” I demand, causing him to pause. “If you like Mia, this isn’t the way to show it. If you don’t, this is just a horrible thing to do. That girl hasn’t done a damn thing to deserve your wrath.”
“We’ll see,” he says cryptically, then continues on his way.
Chapter Twenty Three
After the disastrous Sunday night dinner, tensions in the house somehow rise even higher. It doesn’t seem like Mateo anticipated the turn of events, but he let Vince storm out of the dining room with Mia, merely steepling his hands on the table and getting lost in thought for a few tense minutes. Finally he pulled out of it and dinner resumed, just without them.
I’m so nervous for Vince that my stomach hurts all night. I want to go up and check on him, but I’m sure he and Mia have their own stuff to work out. I don’t even know how they work it out, because I don’t know if Mateo will let him keep her. When he stopped in the kitchen to tell me she only serves him now, it definitely seemed like he intended to keep her longer.
The following morning Mateo is at the table when I go down for breakfast. I briefly consider leaving and stopping to grab a breakfast sandwich on the way instead. I guess I can’t avoid him forever, though. We do live together.
I grab some fruit and oatmeal and reluctantly take a seat at the table. I sit in the seat that would be across from Mia, right by him.
I feel him watching me as he reaches for his coffee cup, so I look up at him, narrowing my gaze. “This doesn’t mean I like you again.”
Smiling faintly, he brings the coffee cup to his lips and takes a slow sip. “I understand.”
I frown all of a sudden, my attention caught on his torn up knuckles. He looks like he got in a fight with a brick wall. “What happened there?”
He glances at his hand, annoyance flickering in his eyes. He doesn’t respond, and I start to worry. I’m not sure why. I’m not sure what he could do that’s worse than what he’s already done. Obviously he hit someone—maybe he’s an all-around abuser now. Maybe he punished Mia for going with Vince last night.
God, I can’t handle much more of this bullshit. I’m half-ready to go running straight to Sal’s dad and sell Mateo out myself. There’s no way I wouldn’t get major daughter-in-law points for that.
“Do you hit women now, too?” I ask almost mildly as I sip my orange juice.
At that his eyes narrow with annoyance. “Of course I don’t fucking hit women now.”
“Like it’s such a stretch from what you did do.”
“Vince happened to my knuckles,” he states, meeting my gaze.
“He attacked you?”
“No,” he replies. “I hate to break your heart, but the Morelli you actually like is as capable of rape as I am.”
Stomach plummeting, I narrow my eyes at him. “Bullshit.”
He shrugs, like he doesn’t care whether or not I believe him.
“Vince wouldn’t do that,” I say, even more strongly. “He would never do that.”
Mateo sets his coffee cup down, picking up his newspaper and resuming reading it, apparently done with me.
I’m so angry he would say that, I reach over and knock the paper down so he’ll look at me.
He glares, but I glare right back. “You’re lying,” I say.
“Believe what you need to,” he replies, straightening his paper so he can ignore me again.
I’m definitely not hungry now. I wish I would’ve eaten by myself in the kitchen. Shoving my chair back, I stand and grab my dishes. My mind is racing with the garbage he just fed me, but the problem is I don’t know why he would lie about that. He’d lie, of course, but not without purpose. He doesn’t need an excuse to hit Vince; mouthing off and making a scene at dinner last night was more than adequate. And even if Vince did do the horrible thing Mateo is saying he did to Mia—which I still don’t want to believe—why would Mateo care?
Apparently I’m a sucker, because instead of going the long way out of the kitchen and heading out the back way to go to work, I go back to the dining room and stop by Mateo’s chair. He waits long enough to accept that I’m not moving, then he glances at me, cocking a dark eyebrow.
“Forget something?”
“Why would you hit him for doing the same thing you did?”
His locked jaw ticks, and he looks at his paper instead of me, but at least he answers, “Because he deserved it. Because I can. Because I wanted to. Pick a reason.”
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. “You were defending her.”
He sighs with annoyance, studiously keeping his gaze on the paper, clearly hoping I’ll go away.
I feel crazy asking, but I can’t help it. “Do you like her?”
His gaze finally leaves the paper, meeting my gaze without amusement. “Don’t you have to get to the bakery?”
“You shouldn’t make her hate you if you like her,” I state, shaking my head. “I realize you’re proficient at pushing people away, but Jesus Christ, Mateo, physically forcing yourself on her? That’s a little far. Couldn’t you have just worn on her the usual way, with your personality and mannerisms? Did you really need to turn to rape?”
“Probably,” he says, faint amusement creeping into his tone. “She’s incredibly soft, but resilient. Easy to intimidate, but hard to scare off. Not the type to give up on someone easily.”
That sounds like exactly what he needs. “Well… you definitely took the wrong tack. You should apologize—and by apologize, I mean grovel like you’ve never groveled before—and try to make amends for being a horrible bag of dicks to her.”
He shakes his head, attention back on the newspaper. “She wouldn’t respond to that. She’s with Vince again, anyway.”
I feel a little twisted thinking he should take the girl he raped away from her boyfriend, but, well, Mateo’s a lot harder to find a suitable partner for than Vince. Vince is young. He’ll meet lots of other girls. Mateo’s never found one that really fit him. If Mia does, maybe that’s worth exploring—if he hasn’t completely fucked his chances, which is a pretty big if.
“Do you think she could ever forgive you?”
“Francesca.” He meets my gaze, raising his eyebrows. “It’s done. It’s over. Go to work.”
“Explain to her that you’re damaged,” I implore. “Maybe she’s into that.”
He ignores me.
“Like, okay, he has an evil streak that spans a mile, but also a vulnerable side. Maybe she can work with that.”
He ignores me harder.
“I could talk to her for you, feel her out. I’m actually shamefully good at making excuses for you.”
That gets his attention. “Stay out of it.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He raises his eyebrows, meeting my gaze to let me know he’s serious. “Everything is on track right now, don’t fuck it up.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
His head falls back and he drawls dramatically, “Leave.”
I crack a smile at him for the first time since all this shit started. I feel a little guilty for it, but now I have an angle that feels a little better. Instead of him just being a heartless monster, maybe he likes her. It is in his nature to try to fuck things up with someone he likes before they ever get a chance to take off. Completely in his nature. It’s almost a signature move. He’s never taken it this far before, but Beth probably intensified the abandonment issues he already had a ton of. Goddamn Beth. If not for Isabella, I’d wish he never met her.
---
Salvatore hovers above me in bed, dropping a kiss on my lips as his wonderful body presses me into the mattress.
Since it’s harder to get away in the evenings right now, I’m abandoning the bakery during the day more often so we can have a couple hours together.
“I want to take you out,” he says, dropping a kiss on the right corner of my mouth, then the left. “We should try to have a day trip soon.”
“I would love that,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m definitely not going to be able to do overnights right now though. Things at my house are still crazy and Mia’s not in Mateo’s bed anymore, so he probably isn’t as distracted and I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Salvatore sighs, rolling off me and onto his back. “Everything about your family kills my sex drive.”
I snort, snuggling up beside him. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he says, curling his arm around me and pulling my snug against his chest. “I know it bothers you. My ear is yours to bend. Vent away.”
“I don’t even know if I want to vent. I’m really conflicted today.”
“About which method of castration your brother deserves? Me too. I’ve gone over it a few times, but there are too many options.”
I grin up at him, running my hand through his hair. “I’m so happy you’re normal.”
“Your family sets the normalcy bar pretty low,” he reasons.
“Good point.”
“How’s Mia doing?”
I sigh, resting my head on his chest. “I don’t know. I think my brother likes her.”
“She seems to have that effect on people,” he remarks, a bit dryly. “Which brother?”
>
I roll my eyes, like it should be obvious. “Mateo.”
He pauses for several seconds, staring at me. “You think your brother, the one who raped Mia, likes her.”
“I know how it sounds. I can’t explain this to you in a way that wouldn’t sound twisted.”
“Correct,” he verifies, nodding once.
I shrug, accepting that. “I guess it is twisted. But I still think he does.”
“Well, I think if he did, he should’ve invited her to dinner and a movie. Since he didn’t, I’d say that ship has sailed.”
“But—”
“Sailed,” he interrupts, making a whooshing motion in the air with his hand. “And after sailing away, it hit an iceberg, split in half, and sank to the ocean floor. It’s not even a ship anymore, just splinters of wood, pissing off some fish that used to hang out there.”
“But what if they could make each other happy? Turn something ugly and horrible into something… good?”
“I don’t think your brother has the capacity to make anyone happy,” Salvatore states. “He’s too selfish. He’d need someone like Ma to put up with his shit, and that wouldn’t be making her happy, it would just be finding someone willing to be his victim for the rest of her life.”
“That’s terrible. I hate that.”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
“You’re a dreamer,” he says fondly, brushing a chunk of hair behind my ear. “He’s a nightmare.”
As if to illustrate his point about me, I tell him, “I can’t wait until we move to our house in the suburbs and I don’t have to deal with this shit anymore. We’ll just visit for family dinners and holidays.”
“Ma’s going to have issues with that. She’ll want to see the grandkids. I’m sure she got ‘em a mountain of presents to put under the tree.”
“We’ll have to work something out. Maybe we’ll visit your mom on Christmas Eve since there are no little kids there, then my house for Christmas. We have very nice Christmases. Mateo’s a jerk, but he’s great at gifts.”
