by Sam Mariano
Nodding, she indicates a long hall at the back of the restaurant, lit by a garish, flickering light.
“Great,” he mutters, glancing back at me. “I’ll be back.”
Adrian’s barely down the hall when a guy behind me leans in and murmurs, “Your boyfriend’s impatient.”
I glance back in surprise. There are too many people in the restaurant—we’re three deep in a line right now, jam packed like a tin of sardines. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Really?” he asks, stepping up beside me.
Recognizing his interest, I add, “That came out wrong. He’s not my boyfriend, but I do have one.”
“Too bad for me,” he says with a charming smile.
I take another look at him, lightly rolling my eyes, but with a tolerant smile. He’s pretty attractive, I won’t lie. He’s no Mateo Morelli, but if I’d met him before, I’d probably be a little more interested. Tall and lean with a sculpted face, somehow smooth and hard-edged at the same time. He has piercing gray eyes, and a smirk that just tells you he’s gotta be an asshole.
I’m also pretty sure he spent more time fixing his short, dark hair this morning than I spent on mine.
That reminds me that my hair is legitimately pulled up into a messy bun on top of my head, and he should not be hoping I’m single.
“You should get the doughnuts,” he tells me, nodding toward the registers. “They’re really good.”
I glance at him again. “I did, actually.”
“Good taste,” he says, offering a little wink.
Laughing a little, I say, “Okay.”
“What?” he asks innocently.
“Nothing.” I shake my head slowly, glancing at the hallway Adrian disappeared down.
“Does your boyfriend know you’re getting lunch with some other guy?”
“Why are you so interested in my boyfriend?” I return, lifting an eyebrow.
“I’m not,” he says, smoothly letting his eyes drop down my body, letting me watch him do it. “I’m interested in you, and I think you’re making the boyfriend up.”
“Trust me, the boyfriend’s real.”
“Been with him long? Maybe you should dump him.”
I snort, wishing I could tell this ass who my boyfriend actually is. “No, thanks.”
“Just saying,” he says, hands in his pockets as he shrugs. “You could trade up.”
“Trust me, I can’t,” I tell him, amused.
“Hey, can’t say I didn’t try,” he states.
“No, no one will ever say that,” I assure him.
“One more thing.” He leans in, way too close. I lean back a little, not even on purpose, just intuitively. “I left my phone in the car, and I don’t know how much time I got to get back to work.”
“Oh.” It takes me a second to react, then I finally extract mine from my handbag, touching the screen and lighting it up. I hold up the phone to show him the time.
“Thanks, you’re a doll,” he tells me, his eyes lingering on the lock screen. “Cute kid. Yours?”
I glance at my lock screen, seeing Lily in her bed, “reading” a bedtime story to her doll. “Yeah.”
Leaning in one more time, he says, “Thanks,” and places a hand at the small of my back before pulling away and retreating back to his spot in the crowd.
I roll my eyes as I slide my phone back into my purse, hoping he doesn’t act like this when Adrian comes back. He’s bound to get punched in the face.
A minute later, Adrian shoulders past people to get back to my side, scowling.
“I’ll give you a doughnut. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
“You okay?” he asks.
My eyebrows rise in surprise, then I frown a little. “Yeah. Are you?”
He nods, glancing back to make sure he isn’t bumping into anyone as we settle back into our spots. I glance behind me where the guy who tried to pick me up was standing, but he must have moved. When I look back at Adrian, he’s watching me again. I don’t know why, and it’s making me uneasy.
“What?”
Eyes still on me, he asks, “You ever met Castellanos?”
I’m so floored that he’s asking me this question at all, let alone in public in a crowd full of people, that I am unable to school my expression. My jaw falls open, my eyes widen, and although I rein it back in after a second, I see something decidedly unpleasant flicker in his gaze in that split second of reaction. I feel like I need to backpedal, and I haven’t even opened my mouth.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Have you?”
I don’t know how to answer that, and unfortunately the truth doesn’t take any time to come up with. “I’ve—No, I—Why would I?”
To say Adrian looks disappointed would be an understatement.
“Why—?”
“Come on,” Adrian says, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me back to the door.
“But—the food isn’t done yet,” I point out, trying to turn back.
“Meg. You want to make a scene?”
I glance around, see a woman looking at us, at his hand, at my face. I force myself to remain calm, but I don’t turn to leave. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You know what’s wrong,” he states.
From behind the counter, I hear, “Order 138.”
“That’s us,” I say quietly, though my stomach is aching now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to eat, after all.
Adrian sighs irritably, turning back and grabbing the bag from the lady before turning back to me. Grabbing hold of my arm like he’s afraid I’ll bolt, he hauls me out to the car.
“Adrian, I don’t understand,” I tell him as he opens the door and waits for me to climb inside. “Why are you mad? What was that? Why—?”
“Just get in,” he interrupts tiredly, dropping the bag of food in the floor.
I glance around the street, but it’s not like I really have any alternative. Finally, I climb into the back seat of Mateo’s Escalade, wondering what the hell I did, and what the hell happens now?
Chapter Seventeen
“Where are you taking me?” My voice wobbles a bit mid-sentence and I clear my throat, embarrassed.
“I’m gonna hide you,” Adrian states as he tugs me through the Morelli home. “It’s not the best hiding spot, but if you stay back, he won’t be able to reach you.”
“What are you talking about? Mateo? Why wouldn’t I want him to reach me? I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t understand what I did.”
“Yeah, you do.”
I fall silent, but I slow to a stop when I realize Adrian is hauling me to a basement. Not the wine cellar, where Mateo has taken me a couple times, but to a dank, ordinary section of basement that doesn’t seem to fit this house.
“Adrian, I’m not going down there.”
“I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you if you prefer it.”
“Why are you being mean to me?”
He spins on his heel, leaning in so close I rear back. “I’m protecting your ass until I determine whether or not you deserve it.”
My chest feels tight, and my hand drifts up to rub it, but knocks into the necklace. It catches Adrian’s attention and a tired sort of dread passes over his face.
“Come on,” he finally says, heading for the basement, trusting that I’ll follow.
I do, but I don’t feel good about it.
A couple minutes later we approach a jail cell. I freeze, staring at the dark little corner of Mateo’s basement I knew nothing about, and my stomach turns upside down in protest. I realize I’m still carrying the bag of Chinese food, and it suddenly feels hilarious, but I’m too afraid to laugh.
Adrian grabs a key ring off the wall and opens the cell. “Get inside. I’ll hide the key.”
“Why are you hiding me?”
“Because I didn’t hide Beth,” he states.
A breath whooshes out of me and my legs go weak. I drop the white bag with the yellow
smiley face on it, and my kung pao chicken box springs open.
Wordlessly, he pushes me into the cell. I don’t resist this time. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I trust Adrian’s intentions. I don’t know why Mateo would be a threat to me. I don’t know why all of a sudden Adrian’s asking about Castellanos—why now? Why today? Why all of a sudden? What happened? Did he get a phone call in the bathroom?
Adrian picks up the bag of Chinese food, checking it. Seeing the food inside is unharmed, he places the bag just inside the cell before closing it. I watch as he turns a lock and pockets the key.
Bars now separating us, Adrian stands on the side of freedom and tells me, “Mateo will see where I took you. He’ll come down here. I’m going to talk to him first, but whatever you do, keep to the back of the cell. There’s no second key. He can’t get inside without the one I have, and he can’t hurt you if he can’t reach you.”
“Yes, he could,” I say, wide-eyed. “He could pull out a gun and shoot me dead, and here I am caged like a fucking animal. Why would Mateo want to hurt me?”
“You know why, Meg,” he says, a little sadly.
“I don’t.”
“Why did you ask for me?”
“What?” I ask. I’m so lost that I think I might actually burst into tears, and it’s a humiliating impulse.
“You could’ve had Mia take you.”
“Take me where?” I feel like I’ve entered an alternate universe, and I’m so fucking confused.
“Don’t lie to him any more than you have, Meg. You’ll only push him closer to the edge if you do.”
With that, Adrian pushes away from the bars and goes back the way we just came, leaving me alone and completely bewildered.
---
It’s a long time before Mateo comes down.
In my mind, it was just a couple hours ago I was wrapped up in his arms in bed, him pressing a kiss to my hair. His body was so warm and hard beneath mine, and I felt so content.
I expect to see that warmth on his face when he appears somehow. For this to have all been some crazy, inexplicable mix-up. For him to have the key, because Adrian gave it to him, and to let me out, to take me in his arms, to explain what the hell he thought I did, but acknowledge I didn’t do it and we’re all good.
It has to be a mix-up. Why would today be the day, out of the blue, when he would discover Antonio Castellanos sent me that first night? How would that even happen? I’ve all but given up worrying about it at this point, because he’s made it clear Antonio Castellanos is a temporary problem—for better or worse.
But when Mateo shows up, I don’t even recognize him. There’s no hint of the man whose eyes sparkle with warmth when he looks at me, whose hands tenderly roam my body each night, whose lips cherish mine every time we kiss. Where before there was warmth, now there is fire—but not the kind I was hoping for. Mateo doesn’t walk to my cell so much as he prowls to my cage, an aggression in his eyes that frankly makes me thankful for the wall of bars between us.
He doesn’t speak for a long time. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to, and boy do I want to, but Adrian’s confusing parting words to me echo in my head. What lies? The lies I’ve been telling? The omission that the man who wants him dead was, technically speaking, the one who sent me to kill him?
Okay, yeah, that’s not a small lie. But how does he know now when he didn’t this morning?
He stalks the outside of my cage, back and forth, back and forth, periodically glaring in my direction. It’s not just anger that’s rolling off him in waves—it’s rage. Hatred. There are so many flickers of various emotions across the face I adore, none of them even remotely hope-forming.
It’s when the anger slips, and I get a glimpse of pain, that I crack.
“Mateo, I don’t understand what’s going on,” I finally tell him. “I don’t understand why you’re mad at me—”
“Don’t,” he says, his voice so quiet, so incredibly quiet. “Don’t you dare.”
I feel so lost and helpless. Tears spring to my eyes at the injustice of it. Why won’t anyone at least tell me what I’m supposed to have done?
“How long have you been sleeping with Salvatore Castellanos?”
I stare at him, completely fucking blank. “Who?”
Anger flashes across his face again and he stalks away, then back, grabbing the bars like he wants to rip them out of the floor. “Lie again, Meg. Fucking lie to me again and see what happens.”
The tears that have been burning behind my eyes suddenly spill over, my face crumbling. I sink to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, and I don’t speak, since apparently I can only get myself into more trouble.
When he accepts I’m not going to answer him, he continues, his tone still low and silky smooth. “He didn’t mind you fucking me?” he asks, running his hand down one of the cool, hard bars. “He didn’t mind my cock inside you again and again? It was worth it to him? See, you chose wrong. I wouldn’t let someone else fuck you for control of the whole world, let alone half of this goddamn city.”
I bury my face in my hands again, somehow ashamed despite having no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t even know who this person I’m supposedly fucking is—obviously a Castellanos family member, but I’ve never even heard of him.
“I’ll hand it to you, though. You may be fucking suicidally stupid, but you are a better liar than I thought. I thought you were a pretty shitty liar. You sure showed me.”
Shaking my head, not bothering to look up, I say, “I’m not sleeping with anyone but you, Mateo. I would never—”
I jump as a phone is suddenly hurled across the room, at the wall behind him. It cracks and falls to the floor. He glares at me, awaiting a response.
It’s not even my phone. It’s not even the same kind. I don’t understand why he’s glaring at me, expecting some sort of recognition.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, about your laugh, your hands, your mouth. I want to feel your plump lips around my cock again. Sure you can’t get away tonight?”
I stare at Mateo, awaiting an explanation.
“You, to him. Dinner tonight was excruciating. I miss you so much. I can’t wait until this is over.”
My blood runs cold, finally getting what he’s saying. My eyes drop to the ground, to the cell phone, and I can’t breathe.
“Should I keep going? I read a lot of them, and they’re burned into my fucking brain now.”
I swallow, trying to get my bearings. This man, this suspicious, untrusting man who killed the last woman who betrayed him… thinks I’ve cheated on him. “Mateo… I didn’t send that message.”
“Then who did, Meg?” he asks simply.
Bracing my head in my hands, I shake my head, feeling like I’m going crazy. “I don’t know. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Adrian’s right, though—why would you ask for him? Mia would’ve been significantly easier to trick. I don’t think she would recognize him on sight, but Adrian? Of course Adrian does.”
“I didn’t ask for Adrian, I just asked for a ride. And I don’t know what—” I stop, a sudden sick feeling coming over me as I recall the man from the restaurant. “What does this Salvatore guy look like?”
Mateo’s face curls up in disgust, and he doesn’t bother answering.
“Dark hair, gray eyes?”
“Did it scare you, hearing Beth’s story? Did it scare you when you realized how similar it was? He’s only using you, you know. He knows there’s no way you leave me now, which means he gives so few fucks about your life that he was willing to sacrifice you if you got caught, and for what? What did you tell him that was so important today, Meg?”
“Oh, my god,” I whisper to myself, trying to breathe.
“Last night.” Violently kicking the phone across the floor, he says, “I need to see you immediately. It’s important. Find a way.”
“Mateo, some guy talked to me at the Chinese restaurant, I—I had no idea who he was.
It was some random weirdo hitting on me, I thought. I told him I was taken and to leave me alone, that’s all. If it was this Salvatore person, I can’t explain that. The phone?” I shake my head, wishing I could open up my mind and let him peek inside. “I have no idea… Someone’s setting me up.”
“Who would set you up, Meg?” he asks, like he actually pities me for such a ridiculous excuse.
“I don’t know, but that’s not even my phone. You know it’s not, you bought me my phone.”
“The fucking hilarious part is I’m supposed to be Mr. Suspicious, right? And I didn’t for a fucking minute think you were the leak. It didn’t even cross my mind. Maybe I’m the fucking idiot.”
“Mateo…” I push off the ground, stepping closer to the bars, closer to him.
“Stay back,” he says, taking a step back himself. “Adrian did the right thing. Don’t come near me.”
My face crumbles and I don’t listen. I push right up against the bars, looking at him through them, wanting to make a point, to prove something. “I didn’t do this.”
His eyes are cold as he steps closer to the bars, slowly, giving me time to change my mind and back up. I want to—his deliberate slowness is scaring the shit out of me, particularly when combined with the chill in his eyes. This isn’t the man who had midnight ice cream with me; this is the man who killed Beth.
It’s too late though. He’s on the other side of the bars, close enough to reach out a finger and touch me. He doesn’t, though. He keeps his hands wrapped around the bars, squeezing them until his knuckles are white.
“Why did you take that goddamn necklace?”
“Because I wanted you,” I answer honestly. “I still want you. This is a mistake. I don’t know how, but there—”
His hands release the bars and push through before I can react, and suddenly his hands are around my neck and I can’t breathe. My fingers fly to his hands, panic making it even harder to breathe, and my vision starts to cloud as he squeezes my windpipe. I can’t breathe, all I can emit are these pathetic little gasping noises. A tear travels down my cheek, hitting his hand.
He releases me and I move back, away from him, sinking to the floor, trying to breathe.
