by Sam Mariano
Deleted Scene
In the book, this takes place while Mia is missing.
Meg
I stand outside of the bedroom, staring at the white door. I’ve been inside this room plenty of times before with Mia, but never without her. Certainly never with Mateo. He’s brought her into our room on occasion, but he’s never, ever brought me to their space.
I haven’t even looked here the past four nights. I assumed he was working late into the night in his study, trying to find Mia. I’ve left him to it. I understood he needed to. This morning when I saw him at the breakfast table, I saw how tired he was. The dark smudges under his eyes told me just how much sleep he was getting. Adrian’s solemnity told me they still hadn’t found anything. Mateo barking at everyone, even Maria, discouraged me from asking about it.
I figured I’d wait him out, but I don’t know how much time I have. I have no idea where Vince took Mia, and I have no idea if Mateo will find him. I remember when Francesca disappeared and he was searching for her, but that time the trail had gone cold. This time he started searching right away. When Mia didn’t show up for dinner Saturday night, Mateo knew something was wrong. Adrian told me she sent Mateo a text message, but when they tracked her phone, they wound up at a bar. Someone had left it behind, the bartender said. Then Adrian persuaded them to let him see the security tapes, and it became clear it was Vince.
I was a little afraid they figured it out so quickly. To be honest, I was hoping they would fail this time. They wouldn’t be able to find any leads. I can’t believe Vince ditched her phone at the place he actually took her. What a fucking numbskull. He could’ve ditched it in a Dumpster somewhere, but he just leaves it at the bar where he bought her a drink?
Unless he wanted Mateo to see it. That’s possible. Until tonight, I had no idea what was on that footage, but when I went to Mateo’s study looking for him, I wandered into his security room. Normally the larger security screen is on some room in the house that he was last checking, but now there’s a copy of the tapes from the bar.
And since they’re still loaded up, I’m guessing that means he has been watching the same goddamn tapes for three days. I checked the monitors to see if I could find him. When I found him in Mia’s bedroom, in their bed, I knew I had some time, so I watched.
It looked like Vince and Mia were on a date. Mateo doesn’t let Mia out to play much since she tends to cast a devotion spell on any man she interacts with for too long and he doesn’t want any new Vinces or Marks becoming a thorn in his side. But since Mia has about as much sense as a grapefruit, when her super sexy ex-boyfriend showed up, it looks like she happily went to grab a drink with him. The video from the bar is a little grainy, but Mia is all smiles. Vince looks like he’s having a good time, too. Then she gets emotional and he holds her. There’s no audio, so it’s impossible to tell why Mia got upset or what Vince said to her. Mateo is a bit of a voyeur, but under the circumstances, I’m thinking he probably didn’t appreciate watching this one little bit.
He’s obviously flagellated himself with it, though. It probably doesn’t help that the moody Morelli grew up good. Vince was always a cutie, but four years later, he’s super hot. Mia’s a bit flighty, and Mateo knows she’s easily led; hell, he’s part of the reason she’s so easily led. He broke that girl down and trained her for himself, not accounting on anyone else getting their hands on her again.
Now someone else has. Mia left that bar with Vince’s arm around her waist, and no one has seen her since.
Not that Mia would ever cheat on Mateo, and she definitely wouldn’t leave Mateo. Not on her own. Mateo knows that. But however he got her to go with him, Vince has her now and Mateo isn’t around. If he doesn’t find her fast, Vince just might sneak back into her heart. Especially after the shit Mateo pulled, making Mia think Vince was dead. I know he didn’t think she’d ever see Vince again, but way to melt away any of her negative feelings toward him.
So, now he has Mia somewhere. At best. At worst, everyone’s fears about him turning into Matt weren’t unfounded and he took her to kill her. I hoped that wasn’t why he wanted her, but I couldn’t completely discount it. I mean, he’s clearly a little crazy or he wouldn’t have shown his face in Chicago ever again. Just the fact that he came back for her is a bad sign.
I’m hoping he’s just been carrying a torch for her though. He can whisk her away somewhere Mateo can’t reach her, hypnotize her with his abs, make her fall in love with him again. He managed it the first time when Mateo wasn’t there; he might be able to swing it a second time. I should’ve put together an informational pamphlet for him, just in case he never figured out what he wasn’t doing that Mateo was. I’m no idiot, I’ve dissected that shit; I could seduce Mia if I had a penis.
I’m sure he’ll figure it out. It’s not rocket science. I still wish I would’ve given him a manual.
Too late now.
So, after I reviewed the tapes from the bar, my conscience was soothed. I told myself if he wanted to chop Mia up into little pieces and toss her in a field somewhere, he probably wouldn’t have been so tender with her when she got emotional and tipsy. He obviously still cares for her. Whatever voodoo she practices must not have a shelf life.
A quick glance at the monitors showed my very own voodoo-afflicted male lying in her bed alone rather than coming to mine. Totally fine. Who wants sex and comfort when they can wallow alone in an empty bed?
He’ll snap out of it.
It’s only been four days.
I’m hoping to nudge things along, though. I know how he gets, I knew the dark cloud would be unavoidable, but if Vince pulls this off and keeps Mia off the radar, it will all be worth it. Or if he kills her. That would be a lot cleaner, but obviously I’m not hoping for that.
Totally not my preference.
I’m at least 93% sure that’s not my preference.
Mia going gah-gah over Vince is my preference, it’s just more complicated; if Mateo does eventually find them, he’s still going to drag her ass back here. Hopefully Vince only came back because he was better prepared. I have a lot hanging on that kid, so he better have his shit together this time.
Standing here all night isn’t going to make this any easier, so I take a breath, square my shoulders, and push open Mia’s bedroom door. It opens into her sitting room, which is dark. Her bedroom light is on, though, so I continue through the arch and pause just inside the doorway. Mateo is lying on her bed, still dressed. He took his jacket off and loosened his tie, but he’s lying there in his black slacks and white dress shirt, staring at the ceiling, his long fingers curled around a glass of presumably strong, expensive liquor at his side. I glance at the bedside table and find his favorite decanter right there so he won’t have to go too far for a refill.
Well, this is a little disheartening. This is what he would rather do than come to our bedroom? Lie here in a drunken stupor, staring at the ceiling? Awesome.
I clear my throat in case he didn’t hear me come in, but he doesn’t move. I’m sure he heard me come in. He has excellent hearing. If you lightly pat your pillow at night, you’ll wake him up from a dead sleep.
“Hey,” I say, gently.
He still doesn’t speak.
He hasn’t been speaking to me much. It makes me nervous on occasion. I know he’s not actually omniscient, but the man does know things he shouldn’t a lot of the time. It’s crossed my mind that maybe he’s freezing me out because he somehow knows about my involvement. It’s not impossible he put a listening device in my car. I haven’t given the man a single reason not to trust me, but for someone who doesn’t hold grudges, he’s sure been distant since the day I told Mia I was pregnant. At first I thought he was just punishing me, but then his indifference stretched on and I began to worry it was something worse than that. Usually his cold spells are limited to a few days. He can never stay mad at me for more than a week; I’m too goddamn accommodating.
This time, no amount of accommodating fixed it.
<
br /> Christmas came a few weeks later and I eagerly awaited my gift. We’d been talking about a trip to Bora Bora, just the two of us. Given the gulf between us, I thought we could really use a few days alone.
There were plane tickets under the tree, but he gave them to Mia.
I got a diamond tennis bracelet and a pair of earrings.
Mia gifts. Things like that make Mia feel cherished and appreciated, but they just make me feel disappointed. He knows I’m not into that stuff; I prefer his time, I prefer experiences, stuff we can do together or share with the kids. I can buy all the stuff I want.
That was the morning I began to worry I’d lost my place. I watched my toddler crawl up into Mia’s lap and tilt her little head back to ask for help opening one of her gifts. There was too much tape. Mia dropped a kiss on top of her little head and helped her rip it open. It was a small thing, and ordinarily it doesn’t bother me at all that Mateo has insisted since Rosalie’s birth that she be close to Mia, but on Christmas morning it felt different. I realized beyond a shadow of a doubt, watching Mateo smiling warmly at his girls, Mia is not optional; I am.
That was the morning I realized maybe he wasn’t dealing me an excessive punishment; maybe he just simply didn’t care anymore. And if he didn’t care anymore, then I was in his way.
That was a scary fucking epiphany.
I was lucky if I got him twice a week after that, and even luckier if he touched me one of those nights. He took Mia on the getaway to Bora Bora. He took her to public functions. He stopped taking me out on dates. He still showed up to read Rosalie bedtime stories, but he stopped giving me goodnight kisses.
I sold the tennis bracelet and earrings. I hated them anyway for what they represented, and I realized it may be time to adjust. It may be time for a back-up plan. It may be time for an exit strategy. Mia’s locked into this thing ‘til death do they part, but hopefully I’m not.
If I am, I worried that death would be coming a lot quicker than I was prepared for. It’s possible the only thing that’s kept me alive this long is the Morelli boy finally growing in my womb. Mia wouldn’t let him hurt me, but he knows that, so if he wanted to he would just make sure to cover his ass.
But then Vince showed up. Me, I was already working on my exit strategy, but there he was, like a gift from the gods. If he could get Mia out of the way, Mateo would come back to me.
Only he’s not coming back. By day he’s tearing the world apart trying to find her. By night he lies here—drunk, sad, and alone—in the bed he shared with Mia. So, it’s not going quite according to plan, but I’m telling myself it’s only because he still has hope of finding her right now. As long as he thinks she’s coming back, he doesn’t need me.
If she doesn’t come back, he will.
It’s not the fairytale, exactly, but hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I like my windpipe uncrushed, thank you very much. I want to see my children grow up. If their father murders me to get me out of his way, I’m going to be pissed.
I move closer and he doesn’t say anything, but then I brace a hand on the bed, preparing to climb up on it with him, and he finally grinds out, “Don’t.”
I freeze, hand on the bed. It doesn’t immediately register.
Then it does. I’m not even allowed to sit on her fucking bed.
I withdraw my hand like it’s on a hot stovetop and straighten, irritation whipping through me like a live wire. He’s got a lot of fucking nerve. He has fucked her in my bed—I was there to witness it once—but I’m not even good enough to sit on hers?
He finally moves, but only to bring his glass to his mouth and take another sip.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding the past few nights,” I say, lightly.
He still doesn’t respond. This is a level of disregard I wasn’t prepared for, but I keep it light. I know he’s drunk. Mateo doesn’t get drunk very often, but he behaves much differently when he is.
I keep my tone level, but I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Fucking fantastic,” he replies. “Is that all?”
I shift my weight, resting my arms on top of my baby bump. “I just wanted to check on you,” I tell him. “I’ve been worried about you. It doesn’t seem like you’ve been sleeping. You’re obviously stressed out. I know you’re pretty busy these days trying to find Mia, but it’s the middle of the night. Since there’s nothing you can do, I thought it might be healthier to get your mind off things for a little bit. Why don’t you come to our bed tonight? I can relax you. Maybe you’ll actually get some sleep so you can start fresh tomorrow.”
“How selfless,” he remarks, dryly.
I can’t fight the frown that transforms my face. “I’m sorry; we haven’t had sex in over two weeks. I figured we could both use the release.”
“The only release I need is a bullet from the chamber of my gun into Vince’s thick fucking skull.”
I don’t really know what to say to that.
“I should’ve killed him,” he mutters, taking another drink. He’s not actually talking to me, more to himself, so I don’t respond. “I should’ve fucking killed him.”
Offering a shrug, I say, “Mia didn’t want that. You know she has a soft spot for him. He was her first love. You made the right call at the time. No one could’ve known he’d come back.”
“I knew,” he says, nodding slightly. “I fucking knew. Mia is irreplaceable.”
“Well… there are other women in the world,” I say, trying not to be bitchy, but Jesus.
“I shouldn’t have stopped watching him. I thought enough time had passed. Three fucking years I watch his ass, and year four he comes back for her.” He shakes his head in cynical disbelief.
“No one could’ve predicted that, Mateo,” I assure him.
“I should’ve have never let her work at the bakery. I should’ve kept Adrian on her—this wouldn’t have happened if I’d have put a fucking guard on her. I put a guard on you,” he says, gesturing to me. Somehow this gesture, his facial expression, his tone, indicates he put a guard on a tool shed but left his palace unlocked.
I shake it off. “Don’t blame yourself. She didn’t have to go to the bar with him.”
He shakes his head again. “That’s my fault, too. I softened her to him when she thought I killed him. He’s probably fucking her right now.”
My eyebrows rise and fall, but I’m not sure how to respond to that, either.
Since I didn’t disagree, I guess, he hurls his glass across the room. It hits the wall, breaks into pieces, and clatters to the hardwood floor.
Somehow it doesn’t even startle me. I stand there for a moment, then I turn and walk into her bathroom to retrieve a towel and garbage can so I can clean it up. I steal a glance at him as I dab up the wet spot from the spilled liquor and wipe down the wall. He doesn’t move to help me. I didn’t expect him to, but once I take the towel and trash can to the bathroom and come back, he still hasn’t really moved. His hands are covering his face, then he rakes his fingers through his hair and resumes staring at the ceiling.
Helplessness is not a feeling Mateo is accustomed to, and he does not deal well with it. I knew that, but it wasn’t my fault last time he felt it. Guilt slithers down my spine.
“Come on,” I say, offering him my hand. “This isn’t doing you any good. Come to bed.”
“I’m in bed,” he states, carefully.
“Come to our bed. Let me take your mind off all this. You’re not betraying Mia if you take a few hours off of obsessing and get some sleep. She wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want you lying here, miserable and alone—”
“Stop saying that.”
I frown. “Saying what?”
“Mia wouldn’t have wanted this. You make it sound like she’s dead.”
My heart sinks. It’s not like it’s an impossibility. He knows that. But right now I’m not sure what happens if she is.
As if I just argued otherwise, he says, “She’s not dead.”
“I hope not,” I say, but without much confidence.
“She isn’t.”
Glancing down at the floor, I think through my next words. I could point out how horrible they were to Vince. I could remind him of Vince’s volatility, or his very own family history with a story like this. I could remind him that Matt slaughtered his first love for the sins of not loving him, of betraying him, of leaving him.
Only all of that puts the blame directly on Mateo’s shoulders. Because if Vince did kill Mia, it’s unquestionably Mateo’s fault. He fucked with that kid’s head; he toyed with Mia in front of him while she was still with him. He tormented them. Vince was very probably in Mateo’s current situation at one time—lying awake in the bed he shared with Mia, all alone, knowing she was with Mateo.
For three nights, Mateo fucked Mia while she still belonged to Vince.
For four nights, Mateo has lain awake in this bed with these thoughts, and added to them the possibility that the woman he loves may be dead because of games he’s played.
This isn’t a good time to lecture him about his karma, but he definitely should have listened to me about all that.
I don’t want to play Devil’s advocate here, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “What if she is? I know it’s unthinkable, I hope she isn’t, but… what if he did kill her?”
He’s quiet for long enough that I don’t think he’s going to answer me. Finally, he does. “Then I find him, rip him open, make him wish for death. I don’t kill him right away. I take out everyone he loves first. Everyone he’s ever loved. Everyone who had a hand in helping him. I destroy every last one of them. I make him watch. I make killing Joey feel like a fucking birthday gift.”
I tell myself he’ll calm down, even if that does happen, but I can’t make myself believe it. I should be able to. There was a time long ago when he wanted to burn the Castellanos family to the ground for me. Now they’re our in-laws.
But I know this is different. I know he means this—because it’s Mia. Mia brings out Mateo’s dark side, so I have no doubt that he won’t rest until he avenges her. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her. I know that. It’s why I’m glad she is Mia. A more calculating woman would’ve had me eliminated already.
