by Sam Mariano
Elise rolls her eyes. “I’m not afraid of Mateo.”
“See, me neither,” I say, glad to have found someone else to join my club.
“Well, you probably should be. I’m not afraid of him because if he ever hurt me, Adrian would kill him.”
“Oh,” I say, dimming. “So… you and Adrian, huh? He’s kind of a badass.”
She cracks a smile, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know. We’ll see. You didn’t come here at this time of night to ask me about Adrian, though.”
“Right. Well, when Mia and Mateo had their little whatever-the-fuck in the kitchen that first week, it seemed like you were… worried about her? You mentioned how someone should go make sure she was okay?”
An uncomfortable expression flashes across her face. “Yeah. He hasn’t always been good to her.”
I definitely didn’t want to hear that. Despite the twisting in my gut, I persist. “How do you mean? Like, when they dated or whatever?”
“They didn’t date. She was with Vince. He… I don’t know exactly what he did, but he caused a lot of problems for them.”
“So, you don’t know if he ever hurt her?”
“No, I know he did.”
A ball of dread cracks open in my stomach, acid filling my gut. “You know he hurt Mia?”
Face drawn, she nods. “I thought he was better than that, but… he’s not.”
“Was he…abusive?”
“This is really uncomfortable to talk about,” she informs me.
“I know. I’m so sorry to put you in this position, it’s just… Mia and I—we’ve been friendly lately, but when I told Mateo, he didn’t want me to talk to her. It seemed like he thought she might say something to me that…would change my feelings for him.”
“Probably,” she says. “I don’t think most women have many good things to say about their rapists.”
Sinking back into the chair, my heart actually aches with the weight of her words. “Rape?”
Elise nods, more apologetic. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sure?”
Shrugging apologetically, she said, “I saw her after. I had to change the sheets. It wasn’t pretty.”
When I leave Elise’s room a few minutes later, I feel a million pounds heavier. Now I understand why he didn’t want me to investigate; I almost wish I hadn’t.
But I did, and I can’t pretend otherwise. I want to ask him, but not only will he know someone told me and want to know who, he’ll lie. He already told me tonight he didn’t hurt Mia, and there’s no reason I can think of for Elise to lie. It’s possible she’s confused, but… I need to talk to Mia. I need to verify this once and for all, and I need to do it before he has a chance to intimidate her.
---
Mateo watches me closely the next morning when I bring him breakfast. Adrian is at the table with him, going over business while they eat. I hope Mateo is distracted with business and won’t bother me. Until I have a firm grasp on what he’s capable of, I don’t want his hands on me.
Unfortunately, he seems to notice.
When I go to clean up his plate, he catches my hips and brings me into his lap. I don’t struggle, but I’m clearly uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“This isn’t super comfortable,” I say, managing a slight smile.
Cocking his head, he continues to study me. “I’ve got a little time this morning. Meet me in my room.”
“I have things to do,” I say, attempting lightness.
He doesn’t buy it. “Yes,” he agrees, anchoring me in his lap with a hand. “Me.”
“Mateo.” I try to play him off, but he pulls me in for a kiss—a test, not an expression of affection. When I turn my face, he gets his answer.
“What’s wrong?” he demands, his tone much less civil.
“I just have stuff—”
“Say stuff to do again,” he interrupts, a threat clear, though what that threat is… not so much.
I avoid his gaze. “Well, I do.”
“Fine, you’re fired. Now, get your ass to my bedroom.”
Choking on a laugh of absurdity, I tell him, “You’re firing me from an unpaid position?”
“I’ll hire you back later.”
I shake my head. “Please let me up.”
“I hate repeating myself, Meg, so I’m going to ask you one last time: what is wrong with you?”
I stare at him, at the eyes I enjoy looking into when he fucks me, at the mouth that cherishes my neck and drives me crazy. Softening just enough for him to see it, I tell him, “I need to talk to Mia.”
Sighing heavily, he says, “This again? You’ll see Mia Sunday.”
“I can’t wait until Sunday; I want to talk to her now. If you leave my sight for even a minute, I’ll never believe her. I’m not trying to threaten you or withhold, I’m not trying to be stubborn, I’m just being honest. I need to talk to her and make sure that things I’ve heard aren’t true. I really don’t want them to be true, but if you won’t let me ask her myself, how will I ever get rid of that doubt? How will I ever trust what she says? Everyone’s afraid of you—I don’t get the impression she’s an exception to that rule, and if I know you’ve had a chance to get to her… I can never know the truth.”
He remains calm, but I can see in his eyes how aggravated he is. “Why can’t you just let it go?”
“Because I can’t. Because I’m not that woman.”
“The kind that can want a bad man? I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, sweetheart; I’m not a good man.”
“I understand that. I accept that.”
“Then why is this where you draw the line?” he asks.
“I think you know why,” I tell him, unable to meet his gaze. “I can’t forgive you for what you do to someone else. Someone… I like. Not this.”
Adrian quietly gets up and abandons his dishes. “This is the kind of thing I will not miss,” he informs Mateo before dipping out of the room.
“Let’s just call her right now,” I say.
“And ask her if I raped her.”
I go cold, because I never said that. His mind shouldn’t have gone straight to that. I only said hurt—never rape.
I shrug, looking at my lap. “I have to know.”
“So ask me,” he says, clearly irritated.
“You wouldn’t tell me if you did,” I point out, rolling my eyes.
“She could lie, too.”
I reach for his hand and tug it off me so I can get off him, but he won’t let me up. “Okay. This isn’t helping,” I tell him.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he says, his grip on me tightening. “I didn’t hurt her, Meg. I just don’t want you to call Mia with this.”
“Then I can’t trust you,” I state. “I can’t… let anything grow here. If you can’t provide me with peace of mind, I can’t provide with you anything else.”
I try to get up again, and he yanks me right back. “That’s not our agreement,” he reminds me.
“Then maybe you can take it from me, too,” I snap.
His face turns to stone. My stomach drops. I don’t have a firm enough hold on him to be making demands, and I know that, but I also know my own limitations. If he likes how things have been going between us, if he likes me, he has to be willing to give me this reassurance. If he’s not, it’s because he’s guilty.
Despite the chill in his eyes, despite the frankly frigid expression on his handsome face, Mateo reaches into his jacket pocket and extracts his phone. My eyes widen, not quite expecting him to acquiesce. He looks away from me only long enough to find a name in his contact list, then he hits a button and hands me the phone.
Hit with a sudden wave of nerves, I grip the phone, dreading each ring.
“Hello,” she answers.
I grimace, because he put the phone on speaker and it’s really loud. I start to turn it off, but he catches my finger, shaking his head silently.
“Hey, Mia,” I say, cringing at the s
ound of my own exuberance.
“Yep, it’s Mia. Who is this?”
“Oh, sorry, it’s Meg.”
Her tone turns friendlier. “Oh, cool. Mateo got you a phone? Let me save your number.”
“No, don’t—I mean, he is getting me a phone, but this isn’t it. I’ll let you know as soon as I get that one.”
“Cool. What’s up? Need a lunch buddy? Our air conditioning broke, and I’m dying. I wish you weren’t working. As much as I brag to the guys that I don’t, I definitely miss the pool.”
Mateo smothers a faint smile. I roll my eyes. “Isn’t Mateo your landlord? Make him fix your air,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Oh, I’m gonna. I don’t have his number. I have to wait for Vince to get home.”
Since she doesn’t know I’m calling her on his phone, I guess I should’ve realized that. “You know, I’ll see him before you do. I can tell him.”
“Awesome. Tell him I’m melting.”
“I will describe the puddle-like sound of your voice,” I promise.
“That’s the spirit.”
Damn, now I really don’t want to ask this. Though, she doesn’t sound like someone who hates his guts… so maybe that should be encouraging. “Okay, remember how you said I could ask you questions that make you feel horribly awkward? Can I cash in on that?”
Making a faint noise of displeasure, she says, “Ugh, so this isn’t a social call?”
“Sorry.”
She sighs. “It’s okay. You live in Morelli Land, I should’ve expected that. Go ahead.”
“I apologize in advance, because this is really cringe-worthy and I do not relish having to ask you this, but… and I should add, I won’t tell him what you say to me, obviously.” I feel a little guilty for that one, since he’s listening, but I don’t want her to be afraid to tell the truth.
“Okay.”
“Did…” I stop, clearing my throat. God, this couldn’t be more awkward. I should’ve gotten off his lap before I took this call. “Did Mateo ever hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” she asks, a little sharply. “Has he hurt you?”
“No,” I say quickly. “No, no, he hasn’t hurt me.” I take a breath. “I heard from someone that he raped you, and I remembered your face when I referred to you as his ex, and I had to know, but I couldn’t ask him, because…”
“He would lie,” she finishes quietly.
My chest feels so tight I have to rub it. “Yeah.”
There’s a brief pause, and though I wish I could see her face, I try not to read into it. I suppose I would be a little thrown if someone asked me this question, but every millisecond that she doesn’t answer with a resounding no, the tension inside of me and within the man whose lap I’m currently sitting on grows and grows.
Finally, Mia speaks. “I’m really glad you asked me. Uh… no, Mateo definitely never did that. He never physically hurt me. He was a dick, he played games with me and put Vince through hell—but no, he never forced me. I was attracted to him, I have an inherited stupidity regarding bad men and he likes to play games with everyone around him to push them away. I think I got too close, maybe, so he had to torch the bridge. We’re cautiously friendly now, but honestly, Vince still isn’t comfortable with it, so just barely. There’s nothing there anymore—if there ever was. I was never right for him. I couldn’t handle him. Those crazy paranoid tendencies of his that you find so adorable? They drove me nuts. I know I joked about you being a match made in hell, but… you like his eccentricities. And if your mouth doesn’t make him want to murder you, hey, cool. He’s a damaged person and you dig it. He’s not going to find that around every corner.”
I’m grimacing so hard at this point my face is sure to stick this way forever. Meanwhile, Mateo’s head is growing so big he’s never going to be able to leave the dining room.
“Be careful with him, but…yeah, if you like him, don’t let our dumb shit get in your way.”
Massaging the bridge of my nose and avoiding Mateo’s smug gaze, I say, “Okay, cool. Thanks so much, Mia.”
“Anytime.”
Mateo takes the phone back, ending the call. “We should call Mia more often,” he states.
Burying my face in my hands, I mutter, “I’m sorry.”
“Which paranoid tendencies of mine do you find adorable?”
Dragging my hands down the sides of my face, I stare at him. “I just accused you of being a rapist.”
Shrugging, he says, “I don’t hold a grudge.”
“I’m the worst person in the world.”
“Not by a long shot. Back to the things you admire about me.”
I shove his shoulder before burying my face in it. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”
He wraps his arms around me, lightly caressing my shoulder with his thumb. “Well, now you know never to doubt me.”
“That might be a stretch,” I mutter, but I’m too embarrassed to argue.
“I can think of a few ways you could make it up to me,” he suggests, those lips of his finding the most sensitive parts of my neck.
I swing my leg around to the other side of the chair so I’m straddling him. “That was what I wanted her to say, for the record. I wasn’t looking for trouble, I just had to be sure.”
“I understand,” he says, nodding as he hikes the skirt up around my waist.
Grasping his tie and holding him still, I hold his gaze. “Thank you for doing that for me.”
Nodding once, maintaining eye contact, he says, “I’m glad you got what you needed.”
Still holding his tie, I trail my free hand down his chest. “If you still want me to go to your bedroom, I’m willing to shirk my responsibilities now.”
Tilting his hips to push his erection against me, he asks, “What do you think?”
I lean in and give him a soft, lingering kiss, then several brief kisses around his mouth before I claim his lips and let my tongue convey a deep, intimate apology.
When I pull back, I caress his face and run my fingers through his soft, dark hair.
Finally, I climb off his lap so we can go to his bedroom. He doesn’t stand with me though, so I drop his hand. “You coming, or am I on my own?”
“Don’t you dare,” he warns. “Naked in my bed, but if you start without me, there will be consequences.”
“Don’t be too long, then,” I tease, giving him a saucy look over my shoulder.
“Trust me, I will only be as long as it takes to give the repairman Mia’s address.”
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday evening when I get back to Mateo’s room, there’s a golden gift bag and a black garment bag draped across the foot of the bed.
“Presents,” I murmur to myself, placing the card on the comforter and digging into the bag. Inside I find a red lace bra and panties set and a pair of the most beautiful shoes I’ve ever seen. Black lace platform pumps with red soles.
I unzip the garment bag next, and inside is a black sleeveless cocktail dress, flapper style, with gold sequins. I emit a mostly soundless squeal, then hightail it to the bathroom to check myself out in the full-length mirror.
Since Lily’s already in bed, I stay in Mateo’s room. It’s where I end up most nights anyway, creeping back to my room when the rest of the household are asleep.
Mateo comes in a little bit later, but he stops by the door. I look to see why he hasn’t come inside, and then I realize he’s wearing a black fedora on that gorgeous head of his.
“Oh. My. God,” I say, staring at him.
He doffs it and gives me a dry look. “I hope you know I’m never wearing this in public.”
“I hope you didn’t plan on sleeping tonight.” Throwing back the blankets, I pad across the soft carpeted floor and wrap my arms around his neck, giving him a moony expression I’m only slightly exaggerating. “How did you get this sexy?”
“I would say good genes, but really bad genes; we’re all crazy assholes.”
“But you look like a dream in
this fedora, so I think you should call it even.” Groaning, I grab his lapels. “And you in this suit. God. I wish I could fuck you without taking any of your clothes off.”
Smiling down at me, he tugs me close. “You like your dress?”
“I love my dress. I love how you know exactly what I like—that was one of your tendencies I liked that Mia teased me about. You pay attention to everything.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Wasn’t hard to piece together. You like Sinatra, the piano bar—you specifically requested this fedora.”
“I never thought it would happen, but you’re my hero for doing it,” I state, grinning. “I was completely right, by the way; you damn sure rock a fedora.”
“I’ll take you to a speakeasy next,” he teases.
“I can’t handle how perfect you are.”
Lifting his eyebrows, he says, “Now no one has ever called me that, even behind my back.”
“Fools,” I murmur as I lean in to kiss him.
He walks me back a few steps, then grasps my ass, lifting me to carry me the rest of the way to the bed. Once there, he drops me none too gently, following me down and moving over me. I love his playful side. The contrast between this mythical mob boss, feared and hated in almost equal measure, and my lover, who dons a fedora he thinks is stupid just to make me smile.
God, I like him.
I never felt this smitten with Rodney, and I married that bastard.
---
I did not realize, even when he gave me the dress and shoes the night before, that I was invited to Sunday night dinner.
I show up in his study, wearing my awesome new outfit, and keep the glasses full. He doesn’t clue me in.
Then I go to the kitchen to help cook afterward, and Cherie is there. Not only that, Mia is abandoning her post to fly across the kitchen and worship my shoes.
“Oh, I miss these,” she says, making the saddest face in the world. Glancing up at me with a dismal shake of her head, she says, “Mateo buys the best shoes.”
“I’m not even a shoe girl, really, but these kick major ass,” I agree, bending my ankle and sparing a moment to admire them.
