by Sam Mariano
She looks out of place here, like a ten-dollar dress at a high-end boutique. I grimace faintly at the thought. Mateo’s snobbery has rubbed off on me. I wonder if he thought that about me when we first met. I probably wouldn’t want to know what he thought of me when he first met me. I may be his masterpiece now, but I began this journey an out-of-place, cheap lump of clay.
Vince never thought that. He never looked at me and saw something less-than that needed work. He was perfectly happy with the girl who couldn’t afford spaghetti sauce.
My hand absently falls to my stomach, but I don’t have the time to sink into thoughts about Vince, and it wouldn’t benefit me anyway, so I shove them away.
“Holy Moses,” my mom says. I can see how wide her blue eyes are from here as she traipses across the lawn in $12 heels and a tan dress that fits too snugly. We told people not to bring gifts to this thing—I mean, seriously, what could they give us?—but she has a card in her hand.
“Hey, Mom.” I offer up a warm smile, pushing my pink Chanel sunglasses up on my head and fixing my hair around them. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I didn’t visit a ton when I was with Vince, but I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen her since I got together with Mateo. Vince didn’t especially like visiting my mom, but he always went with me. Mateo has gone once—the first time, and only because I played the “well, Vince was going to go with me” card, and he indulged me.
Mateo was fine with entertaining my mom when there was something he wanted out of her, but she no longer serves a purpose, so he has no further use for her.
She’s completely awestruck by the house. I’m not anymore, but I still remember that feeling so I get it.
“It’s like one of those fancy French chateaus,” she says, like she’s ever seen one. “This place is fit for a king.”
Wrapping an arm around my shoulder to give me a fond squeeze, Meg says, “Well, she’s basically marrying one.”
My mom couldn’t be more delighted. She spins around again, looking back at the house and shaking her head as she murmurs, “Wow.”
“Can I get you a mimosa?” Meg offers.
Mom spins around, nodding. “That would be great, thank you.” Once Meg is gone, my mom comes closer to me, but keeps her gaze on the long stretch of house. “Boy, you’ve done good for yourself, haven’t you?”
I smile faintly. She’s just impressed with Mateo’s obvious wealth, so I feel weird agreeing. None of this is what I love about Mateo.
My mom doesn’t even know any intimate details of my life, though. She didn’t even know I was gone when Vince hauled me off to Vegas.
We walk across the perfectly manicured green lawn until we make it back to the covered patio area. There are a couple of obvious security cameras in black bubbles along the way, but I have no idea if there are hidden ones, too.
“This is just—Wow. You should take me on a tour of the place,” she says, eagerly glancing through the window. She’s actually looking into the servants’ quarters over here, but even that is nice, just smaller than the rest of the house.
“Maybe after drinks,” I say, nodding. “Mateo’s out right now, but he’ll be back for dinner. He can be kind of particular about people in the house, but I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“He has a lot of rules, huh?”
I smile faintly. “He has a few ideas of how things should be.”
“I can’t believe my daughter lives in a gorgeous place like this with some fancy, classy man,” she murmurs, glancing around again before following me back to the pool where the rest of the ladies are. “You sure didn’t get your taste in men from me.”
I bite back a grin, tucking a chunk of hair behind my ears. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. He makes plenty of trouble; he just has a bigger bank account than yours have.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” she says congenially. “Just the other day Bob’s check bounced when we went to pay the rent. Came home to an eviction notice on our front door—the people we rent from now are real hardasses, you mess up once and they’re trying to kick you out.”
“You guys should buy.”
“Oh, I don’t know. He still hasn’t even proposed. Can you believe that? My daughter’s barely out of college and she snatches up one of Chicago’s wealthiest. Me, I’ve been around the block a dozen times and I still haven’t managed to get the rock.”
“You’ll find the right one eventually,” I tell her, though honestly I’ve given up believing that. “How are the kids?”
“They’re good. Allan wants to play football in school next year. Casey just got a pet hamster named Toodles. Crazy how fast they grow up.” Her gaze drops to my toned, flat stomach. “I can’t believe I’m gonna be a grandma. I feel too young to be a grandma.”
I place a hand on my tummy, feeling myself glow a bit.
I take my mom back over to mingle with the ladies and introduce her around. Francesca has never met her but she doesn’t seem impressed—probably because my mom can’t stop talking about how big the house is and how she can’t wait to go in and look around. I’m literally hiding my face with embarrassment like a teenager again.
Finally I give up and pull out my cell phone, shooting Mateo a text. “Hey, my mom is driving me nuts about giving her a tour of the house. Is it okay if I show her around?”
He responds pretty quickly, “Sure. Adrian and I will be home soon.”
“Can I ask another smallish favor?”
“Depends. What are you prepared to offer me?” he shoots back.
I smile indulgently, typing back, “I’ll consider marrying you?”
“You’ll marry me regardless,” the smug jerk sends back. “What do you need?”
I glance up at my mother, then turn my attention back to the phone. I grimace to myself as I type, “My mom is going through a bit of a rough patch financially. Any chance we could give her like a thousand dollars so she doesn’t get evicted from her apartment?” As soon as I hit send, I add, “I hate asking for money, I just feel bad.”
“My money is your money,” he replies, without delay. “I’ll send Adrian with an envelope when we get home.”
“Thank you, you’re the best!” I attach a string of emojis that will annoy the hell out of him.
Chapter Thirty One
Mia
“Is this what they call a drawing room? Isn’t that what they call them in fancy houses like these?”
Meg clasps her hands together, nodding like the perfect tour guide. “Sort of. In the strictest sense of the word, the blue drawing room is our drawing room. Because it’s where we go if we’re not cooking when the men drink before or after dinner, depending on guests. Drawing rooms were a thing back when sexism was normal, but once it’s dinner time in this house it may as well be the 1600’s. We mostly just refer to the rooms by color though—red, blue, gold, yellow, and we all have sitting rooms in our bedrooms, too. Our bedrooms are like separate apartments. Except Mia’s,” Meg points out, gesturing back at me. “She’s in Mateo’s room now so that’s the largest wing. It’s almost like a little house of its own over there. The sitting room is separate, it has its own bedrooms, and then of course her bedroom.”
Mom turns to look at me over her shoulder. “Are we going to see that one?”
I shake my head. “No, not that one. Mateo doesn’t allow tours of his room. I didn’t see it my first time here, either.”
“I bet you were blown away the first time you saw it,” she remarks.
My lips thin and I offer a polite nod. Of course the first time I found myself in Mateo’s wing, I was not remotely interested in the layout or décor.
Meg faintly grimaces, shuddering.
I cock my head to the side and shoot her a questioning look.
She shakes her head, shakes it off, and proceeds on the tour.
“Anyway, the servants’ quarters are much cozier. I liked to hang out in here back when I was a maid. The house is so big, it can lack coziness, but the servants’ quar
ters feel more like a home.”
My mom’s eyes grow wider. “You have a whole house for servants? You used to be a maid?” Her gaze drops to Meg’s stomach. “Did you marry up?”
“Almost,” Meg says, brightly. “Mateo never actually married me, but we were engaged for a while.”
I’m waving my hands, trying to get her attention to stop her, but to no avail. Now my shoulders drop as my mom turns back to look at me like this must be news to me.
“Oh. Oops,” Meg says, flashing me a grimace. “Sorry, I assumed…”
“She was engaged to your fiancé?”
“Yeah.” I really don’t want to try to explain sister wives to my mom. She’ll either tell me I’m insane and I need to shove Meg out of the way, or reassure me that as rich as Mateo is, she totally understands me turning the other cheek so he can bang my friend. Both responses are exhausting and at least mildly annoying.
“Is that his baby?” Mom asks, indicating Meg’s stomach. “Are you both… pregnant with his babies?”
I have an honest-to-God hand-to-forehead moment now. I should’ve realized bringing Meg along on the tour would be a bad idea; I just didn’t want the awkward silences as we toured the house and I know Meg’s mouth never stops running. Should’ve probably considered what might come spilling out of it.
Thankfully, like a beautiful angel from the heavens, Adrian comes walking up the hall. I abandon my mom with Meg to meet him halfway. Leaning in close, I murmur, “Tell me Mateo needs me. Save me from this God-awful tour.”
Smiling faintly, he says, “And leave Meg and your mom prowling the house alone? I don’t think so.”
“Please.” I grasp his lapels dramatically. “I beg of you. Take pity on me.”
Instead of taking pity on me, he reaches across my arm and draws a white envelope out of his suit pocket. “The money you requested, you poor unfortunate damsel.”
I look at the envelope, but don’t take it yet. “You don’t understand. My mom thinks she’s touring Buckingham Palace. Meg’s gotta be dying to make cracks about my low-class roots.”
“Her roots are as low-class as yours,” he assures me. “You’re both a couple of gutter mice.”
I release his lapel, smoothing it down, and taking the envelope. “If my mom says ‘fancy’ one more time, I’m going to die of mortification. She can’t come to dinner. Mateo’s going to be exasperated. He doesn’t even like tacos, and my mom is like tacos personified.”
Nodding solemnly, he says, “I bet you’re right. He’s going to retract his proposal on the basis of your sketchy mom that he already knew about.”
I sigh at him. “Can’t you just let me be dramatic for a minute?”
With a faint grimace, he says, “I would, but according to your sixth grade drama teacher, you’re not cut out for it.”
My jaw drops a few inches and he winks, turning me around and giving me a light shove back toward my mom.
“Stalker,” I shoot back.
“You like stalkers. You’ve never dated someone who wasn’t a stalker.”
I flash him a lightly flirty smile, since he worded it that way. He sighs and rolls his eyes, realizing too late what he said.
“If you and Elise weren’t married, you were Mateo’s pick for my next husband,” I inform him, just because. “Since you had to go and be married, it’s Rafe.”
Adrian rolls his eyes. “He’s lining up a back-up husband for you? He’s such a psycho.”
“Apparently I’m incapable of surviving alone.”
“Nah, you’d do all right,” he assures me.
“See, you have faith in me; that’s why you’re my back-up husband,” I tell him.
“You can’t marry Rafe anyway. Vegas is too far, I can’t keep a good eye on you that far away.” He pauses, rocking his head to the side in consideration. “Although if Mateo’s dead, good chance I am, too.”
“I can’t live in this world where you and Mateo are both dead,” I inform him. “I hate everything about that world. Let’s stop talking about this.”
My mom looks a little less enthusiastic as Adrian and I approach. I wonder what Meg said to her. Probably shouldn’t have left her alone then either, but I needed to escape.
Since he already gave me the money and he doesn’t feel like rescuing me from my own mother, I return to my mom and Meg. Without explanation, I hand my mom the envelope.
Meg’s perfect eyebrows are lifted as she watches Adrian walk away, then flicks a glance back at me. “You better watch it, Elise knows her way around the cutlery.”
Cocking my head, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“Getting a little handsy with Adrian there, don’t you think?”
As my mom opens her envelope to see how much is inside, she voices a different concern. “I don’t know how you get used to having all these scary men roaming the halls.”
“Scary? Adrian?” I smile at the absurdity. I guess it’s not really absurd, since he is technically dangerous, but it’s hard to look at him through her eyes after all these years with him around.
“My concern is the bigger threat,” Meg states, giving me a serious nod. “Remember there’s a dungeon in this house.”
Now my mom’s eyes widen and she looks back at Meg to see if she’s joking.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” I tell Meg. “And I’ve managed to stay out of the dungeon for five years; I think I can stop worrying about it.”
“There’s a real dungeon?” Mom asks, torn between horror and fascination.
“What kind of castle doesn’t have a dungeon?” Meg tosses out, turning around and heading back the way we came.
---
My makeshift bridal shower not being an ordinary affair, it concludes with family dinner. Sort of. Sal and Ethan are on their way while the women get ready upstairs. I’m ready, all dolled up in a slinky green dress, so I thought I could sneak away and steal a minute with Mateo before dinner.
“Are you saying you don’t trust Colin’s guys?”
I hear Mateo in business mode, so I peek my head inside the study, knocking lightly on the thick door. It was cracked open so I thought I was okay to come in.
Mateo glances at me, smiling faintly and nodding for me to enter.
Adrian glances up at me, but he answers Mateo anyway. “I’m not saying I don’t trust them, I’m saying I don’t think we need four freelancers. We have enough of our own men. If you want to contract Colin for added protection, fine, but we don’t need his friends.”
“You’re in the wedding. Elise and Westley will be there with you. You’re going to be distracted. I want all four to make up the difference.”
“It’s overkill,” Adrian states. “Will and Kate didn’t have this many fucking guards on their wedding.”
I grin at Adrian’s royal wedding reference and move around the desk, taking a seat on Mateo’s lap. His arm moves naturally around my waist, but he keeps his gaze on Adrian.
“I don’t care. I want all of them. Unless you have a better reason than overkill, contract all four.”
Adrian’s eyebrows rise and he cocks his head slightly. “I mean, there is the fact that three of them were involved in the New York massacre. Personally, guys who already helped take out one mob family don’t top the list of people I’d want guarding mine.”
“Colin explained that. They didn’t turn on their employer; they were doing the job they were paid to do. Vince can’t afford a team of hit men, so I’m not overly worried about this being a Trojan horse.”
“Ben can,” Adrian shoots back.
“Ben doesn’t hire outside help,” Mateo returns.
“And you thought Vince wouldn’t go to Ben, which is why we didn’t check there in the first place. You’re wrong sometimes.”
Irritation flickers in the depths of Mateo’s brown eyes. “Colin has never let us down before. It wouldn’t benefit him to do so now.”
“We have enough of our own guys,” Adrian reiterates. “Why take the chance?”
&n
bsp; Now Mateo finally turns his attention to me, but it’s just to goad Adrian. “Adrian is boring me. Entertain me?”
I grin, leaning in to give him a kiss. “Sure. Want me to blow you under the desk?”
“No,” Adrian says, firmly. “That will distract him too well. Tell your fiancé he doesn’t need an army of strangers guarding the wedding. Vince is one guy, and he hasn’t been back to Vegas since he left. There’s absolutely nothing to indicate he even knows this wedding is happening, let alone that he’s coming back to stop it.”
I raise my eyebrows, looking back at Mateo. “A whole army to keep Vince out?”
He subtly corrects me. “A whole army to keep you safe.”
“I really don’t think Vince wants to kill me,” I tell him, still with my arms wound around his neck. “He could’ve done that already. He’s reckless; if he wanted me dead, he would’ve just busted into Rafe’s that night and killed me before he could bring me home.”
“I know.” He nods, but my words have fallen on deaf ears. He’s as suspicious as I am trusting, so he’s learned just to ignore my assertions about people.
Adrian butts in again. “We also have eyes on Vince, so if he heads for Chicago, we’ll have adequate warning. Sal already said he’ll have his guys on standby. Between our families, we have it covered. If Vince could see you preparing for him like this, we would need to invent a new word for the level of his smugness.”
“I couldn’t care less,” Mateo states. “Everything that matters to me will be there and I have hoards of strangers and distant relations pouring in. I don’t trust anyone. I’ll be happiest when the whole goddamn thing’s over.”
Even though I understand what he means, my tummy feels a little shifty at him wishing our wedding was already over. I thought choosing ordinary details was stressful; I hadn’t even considered all the stuff Mateo would have to worry about surrounding it.
“No wonder you never married Meg,” I say, lightly. “This sounds like a real hassle.”
