“It’s proximity to me that wears you down. You live in my house, you’re under my rule. You go where I say, when I say, and do what I say when you get there. That wasn’t an act; that’s your life in my house. What if you didn’t live in my house? What if I gave you and Vince your own space, let you move out?”

Let us get away from him.

Vince’s words run through my mind: “I want something of my own, something to… get me out from under his thumb.”

Monday night comes back to me, how lovely it was just the two of us at Joey’s apartment, making dinner, snuggling as we watched movies, no pressure. Mateo didn’t even exist there.

“We wouldn’t have to see you at all?”

“Well, Sunday night dinner. But you come, you eat, you leave when you’re ready—not like living there. I won’t rock your boat. If you want to try with Vince…this is how.”

God, that’s tempting. “I… I can’t do that to Vince.”

Sighing like he can hardly handle how pedestrian I am, Mateo asks, “Do you know why people lie, Mia?”

“Because they’re cowards,” I reply.

He smiles at the insult. “Because it’s easier. Stop doing everything the hard way. Just lie to him. He’ll love you for it.”

“You’d just tell him,” I toss back.

“I wouldn’t. I won’t. You have my word.”

I snort, and he scowls.

Catching me at the small of my back, he yanks me against him. I gasp, caught off guard, and he says, “Now, now. I’ve never given you my word before. I do have some honor.”

“If you did, I don’t think you’d be holding your erection against me right now.”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have offered you an out at all and I could hold my cock against you whenever I feel like it.”

I can’t really argue that.

Just like I can’t argue against the way my body is reacting to him. When it has every reason to be repulsed by him, the damn thing is somehow turned on instead. I want to believe in myself, in Vince, but there’s too much evidence to the contrary. Vince’s reaction to how Mateo dressed me up tonight—the first time Mateo fvcks with him again, and he reacts just the way Mateo intends. He can’t stop letting him under his skin.

And a tiny part of me points out, Vince believed as much as I did that Mateo would forcibly fvck me tonight.

Would this be so much worse?

“You promise you wouldn’t tell him, and you would give us our own place away from you?”

“I do.”

“Do you have a condom?”

He smiles like the devil, about to acquire a shiny new soul. “I do.”

Swallowing once, twice, three times, I meet his gaze, still afraid he’ll screw me over…but more afraid of the alternative.

“Okay,” I say, stomach falling even as the word spills out of mouth. “I’ll do it.”

Chapter Twenty Eight



My mouth goes dry and my mind races. The party is being busted—and what the hell is going to happen now? I’m going to be hauled into the police station, no clue how to get out of talking, Mateo is going to be arrested—this is a fvcking disaster.

Then Potbelly brings a finger to his lips, indicating I should be quiet.

It’s too late to warn them anyway. It’s too late to tell Mateo… I don’t even know what I could tell him, because this is it.

They’ve got him.

I should feel relieved, but… I don’t.

Potbelly takes a step forward and I stumble back several steps, but then he moves past the door, in Mateo’s sight, and I’m baffled because he hasn’t even pulled a gun.

“There you are, you lazy bastard,” Mateo says, congenially.

One of the other guys groans and jokes, “Aw, the boys in blue. We’re gonna have to take it down a few notches, guys.”

I don’t know what the look on my face must be right now, but some mash-up of disbelief and what-the-fvck is my guess.

“Mia,” Mateo says, nodding at me. “Grab them cigars.”

I turn slowly, trying to make sense of things—and fast. Mateo obviously knows they’re cops, and it does make sense that he would have some on his payroll, but… the potbellied cop obviously knew who I was at the door, when Mateo couldn’t see them, and he told me to be quiet.

My blood runs cold as I realize they’re double-crossing him. They’re obviously here as friends, cops on his payroll, but when they’re not here, they’re trying to turn people close to him to testify against him.

I don’t know what to do. I could wait and see how things shake out, but what if Mateo, guard down, says something in front of them they could use?

He’ll find out they talked to me. He finds out everything. And they’ve seen me here tonight, so they’ll never believe me again if I tell them I don’t have anything to offer them. They’ll come after me, and because I can’t turn on him… what’s going to happen to me?

My hands are on the cigars, but I can’t move. The whole world is suddenly crashing down around me and it’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to see a way out of this.

I drop the cigars.

I turn around and look once more at the table.

Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I walk over to Mateo. “You’re out of cigars.”

With a perplexed frown, he says, “No, I’m not.”

I nod. “Are there more in the back? Can you show me?”

His expression clears and he leans back, giving me a probing look. Quietly, he asks, “You want me to take you to the back room, alone, to show you where the cigars are?”

Sighing to myself, I say, “Yes.”

He nods once, then moves to stand. “You gentlemen’ll have to excuse me for a minute. I have to help the lady locate some more cigars.”

I wish he’d hurry the hell up. Those stupid cops probably know what I’m about to do, and we’ll all be lucky if they don’t stop me before I can.

My hope is that they’re outnumbered, with no back-up outside. That’s the only way this works.

At the same time, I don’t even want to think about what Mateo’s bound to do to them if they’re on their own.

As he follows me into the back room, he says, “I have to admit, this surprises me.”

“Trust me, it’s a last resort.”

But he’s had even more to drink than usual, and he’s relaxed. His hands drop to my hips and he moves closer, not aggressive, just… strangely playful. “You want to play, Mia?”

“No,” I say, removing his hands, but surprised that he lets me.

“Oh, come on.” He leans in, the scent of his cologne hitting my nostrils as his lips move to my neck. My sensitive, sensitive neck.

I grab his hair, tugging his mouth away from my body. “Stop. I need to tell you something.”

“That you like hair-pulling?” he asks with a sensual smile. “Thank you. I approve.”

He reaches a hand toward mine, doubtless to give it a tug, but I grab his wrist. “Mateo, those two guys that just came in are cops.”

His eyebrows rise, but he does not look impressed by my intelligence. “Yes, I know. That’s why I give them money. Don’t get too excited though, they won’t arrest me.”

He’s still teasing, and while it’s a little refreshing, there’s no time for this. “Yes, they will,” I say, a little desperately. “Those guys are not your friends, Mateo. They stopped me Monday before school. They asked me questions about you. They wanted me to give them information, to… testify against you.”

All amusement vanishes from his face, and a scary stoicism takes its place. “Monday?”

Swallowing, I bob my head.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Fvck. “No. I… I didn’t tell them anything, I told them to leave me alone. I probably should’ve told you, but… it was just… there was a lot going on.”

The way he studies me makes me squirm. There’s usually some trace of amusement when he looks at me, whether because he thinks I’m being a naïve idiot, or because he’s enjoying the game only he knows he’s playing with my life. But right now, he’s dead serious, and it sends fear like I’ve never known traveling down my spine. If he would’ve looked at me like this the first time he pulled a gun on me, I probably would’ve dropped dead from a heart attack and saved him the trouble.

“I should’ve told you,” I say, quietly. “But… I don’t think we can dwell on that right now. What do we do?”

His hand slowly moves to my neck, his thumb brushing my jaw, and then he leans in and kisses me. My hands go to his chest, pushing against him. “Mateo,” I say, against his mouth. “Stop it. This is so not the time.”

But he’s not pushing, and…he’s smiling.

Meanwhile I’m frowning, confused, wondering if he’s lost it.

“You’re something else, Mia,” he tells me, touching my face again, but kindly, like he finds me adorable.

I can only stare, wide-eyed.

“They are my friends,” he states. “I sent them to talk to you Monday.”

“What?” I ask, faintly.

Shrugging, he says, “I had to see what you’d do. I had to see if you’d turn on me or remain loyal.” Cupping my face in his hand, he says, “You passed.”

Shock courses through me as his words sink in. Sheer horror follows, realizing he’d been testing me, and if I would’ve talked, if I would’ve told the men who swore they could protect me about the information he let Adrian share in front of me….

How long had he been setting me up for this?

My mouth is still gaping open when his mouth finds my neck again, his hand moving between my legs. Arousal stirs at the touch of his fingertips and I push him away again, shaking my head.

“You… you…”

“Mm hmm,” he verifies, catching my wrist and going back to my neck.

“But… but… they tried to give me the number to the police station. They said they could keep me safe if I…”

His lips leave my neck and he moves closer to my ear, whispering in a rough, silky tone, “Sweetheart, if you ever betray me, God Himself won’t be able to keep you safe.”

Relief should be pouring through me, but it’s only a trickle. I’m stuck in horror, because I can remember sitting in that car, wanting to talk.

“But you didn’t, so you won’t,” he continues. “I built you up, broke you down, took everything from you… and you didn’t turn on me.”

A sickening thought gets lodged in my gut. I’ve seen how Mateo works now, I’ve been manipulated according to his designs, and now I’m wondering…

“When did you…?” I shake my head, pulling back from the kisses he’s leaving along my neck. “How long have you…?”

I don’t know how to ask, but he doesn’t make me. Mateo pulls back so he can look at me, and while he doesn’t exactly move away, he does stop advancing on me.

“Mia, anybody with a gun to their head is going to tell you they won’t talk. It’s survival, plain and simple. I’m the predator, you’re the prey. I have my teeth to your throat, you’ll promise me anything I want to try to make it out alive. You may even think you mean it. But when it comes down to it, when it really comes down to it, you can’t know unless it happens. Vince wanted to keep you alive. He was a pain in the ass about it from the get-go, but I wasn’t about to take that chance. You’re young, fragile; I never thought you’d hold up under the pressure. I had to trap you. I had to take everything away from you. I had to ruin your life, betray you—I had to make you despise me, make you want to see me behind bars more than you wanted anything.”

“You did all of this just to see if you could make me talk? You… raped me as part of a plan? As a means to a fvcking end? To make me hate you—which I had every right to!—to…to…?”

“Yes,” he says, not allowing me to finish the in-progress implosion of my brain. “And despite having every motivation to, you didn’t talk. You passed. Congratulations.”

“Do I get a fvcking ribbon?” I ask, dumbfounded.

He smiles. “Better. You get your freedom.”

That knocks the fight right out of me. I don’t think I heard him right—or I misunderstood him somehow. “What?”

“I’m never the most trusting guy in the room, but… you’ve shown me I can trust you not to say anything against my family. You don’t have to be afraid of Vince leaving you anymore. If he does, you’re free to move on with your life, removed from the Morelli family. Or, if you’re hooked, you can give me a call,” he says, winking.

“Vince… he was in on this? Sunday night…?”

“No,” Mateo says, his smile disappearing. “No, that...” He pauses. “I did not anticipate that he would… That was a surprise. I mean, it certainly helped, but no, that was all him.”

“So, you’ve only been toying with me for this? It was never real, it was… you were just… manipulating the circumstances until you did enough damage to test me?”

He takes a few seconds before he answers. “Well, yes and no. Obviously, it really happened, but my main motivation was this. I didn’t think you’d enjoy rape, but I thought you’d probably enjoy murder far less. Made a judgment call.”

I don’t know what to feel anymore. There’s logic to what he says, but I don’t know how to process the implications. I don’t know how to file away everything that’s happened to me, or my observations about him as a person. He’s tormented me and Vince, all in the name of testing some theory—an admittedly solid theory, but… wow.

I don’t even notice he’s caught my hand until he presses it against his cock. He’s hard beneath the soft fabric of his pants, and though I’m foggy with confusion, it registers.

“I can think of a way for you to thank me,” he says playfully, his lips brushing my earlobe, sending shivers of pleasure all along my nerve endings.

“Mateo…”

“Don’t worry, I can take away your choice,” he says, tugging me close. “I prefer not to. I confess, while I didn’t hate myself for a single time I fvcked you, Mia, I would like to experience you fvcking me because you want to, actually knowing it’s my cock inside you.”

I release a breath, knowing I need to get the hell away from him. That goddamn dirty mouth does things to me it shouldn’t, and I don’t want him, I want Vince.

“You said it was all a game. Game’s over,” I remind him.

Rubbing my hand against his cock, he tells me, “There are always other games.”

“With you, yeah, I bet there are,” I say, with a shaky, unconvincing laugh.

I haven’t pulled my hand away, though, and I probably could have. He’s still holding my hand, but if I tried to break his hold, I don’t think he’d stop me.

So why am I still stroking him?

Why can I feel myself getting excited?

“I need to go,” I say quietly.

“I’ll take you home after the game’s over,” he says, moving between my legs.

“Mateo,” I say, my heart pounding with a mix of panic and something else. It’s the something else that’s the problem. “You have to stop.”

“Why delay the inevitable?” he asks, his hand sliding up the inside of my thigh. “Vince is a good kid, but he’s a kid. You need a man.”

“No,” I say, yanking my hand from his cock to grab the one moving between my legs. “What I need is to get away from you.”

“To go back and live at my house, where you’ll see me day in and day out. I will fvck you, Mia, it’s just a matter of when.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and even though I’m me, and I have control over this situation, I can’t help but believe him.

I don’t know how to explain what I feel for Mateo. It isn’t yearning, it isn’t want. I wouldn’t even call it lust, but he calls to me in some way. I don’t want him, but I’m ensnared all the same.

Feel isn’t even the right word. It’s not an emotional response, it’s a force of nature. Mateo Morelli is a black hole, and no matter how I feel, no matter what I want, I can’t escape from being sucked into him.

As I think that, his finger moves inside my panties.

“Stop.”

He doesn’t, sucking on my neck before saying, “No, don’t tell me to stop. We’ve already played that game. I want to play a different one.”

“It wasn’t a game to me,” I remind him, soberness piercing whatever fvckery he’s practicing on me right now. “It was real to me.”

His hand cups my neck again, and it feels so tender—too tender. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t hold a grudge.”

I about sputter at his minimizing it to a grudge, but then he’s kissing me and I don’t know what to do. I push against his chest, but he pushes between my legs and a moan slips out of me.

“Fvck,” I say, shoving him harder. “Stop it. Stop it! Stop playing games with me.”

“Just give in. Play with me, not against me.”

I shake my head, scooting closer to the door. “I’m going back out there. I will finish this stupid poker game bullshit, but this is the only game I’m playing with you tonight.”

He sighs, but doesn’t move to stop me as I reach the knob of the door. “Another night, then.”

I freeze.

I could move. I want to move. He won’t stop me, but his words keep me right where I stand.

Because I can’t play this game another night.

I don’t know where it will go, or what the new stakes will be, or who will get destroyed in this one, but I know someone will. And I consider it highly unlikely it will be him.

No, it will be me and Vince. Again. It will always be me and Vince. Anytime we go up against this man in any capacity, whether in earnest, in a battle of wits, of wills… he is always going to destroy us. Maybe not even on purpose. It’s just what he does. How he plays. He’s a lion trying to play with a kitten—the kitten will always get hurt.

I want Vince, I want to see what we can become, but there’s one thing I know for certain: we will not survive Mateo. We can fight as hard as we want, but he’ll win every time. Whatever Vince and I promise each other, regardless of what we want, Mateo will always wreck it.

Since I haven’t moved, he asks, “Change your mind already?”

“I can’t do another night.” I shake my head, looking down at the floor, baffled by how I could be in this situation right now. “What is wrong with me? I know the truth about you, so why do I still want to believe the lies?”

“Because you’re human,” he says, coming up behind me. His hands come to rest on my hips again. “And you’re sweet. And young. And so idealistic.”

“This isn’t fair to Vince. Why won’t you just stop? Just leave us alone? Let us see if we can build something together.”

“That’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

He mulls it over a minute before saying, “I might have a proposition for you.”

This already feels like a trap, so I sigh, hanging my head. “What now?”

“We both know you’ll end up back in my bed eventually—probably sooner than later, if we’re being realistic. And painfully, for Vince. He’ll have to watch it all unfold again. I’ve charmed you before; you know if I set my mind to it, I’ll do it again.”

“I don’t know that,” I mutter.

“Sure,” he says, unconvinced. “What if we skip all the pre-intimacy? I get you tonight. Once. You give yourself to me one last time, and in doing so, save Vince plenty of torture. It’s a favor, really.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t trust you.”

“Smart.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’ll give you and Vince your own place.”

Turning to face him, I say, “What?”

Chapter Twenty Seven



It’s easier to stay out from under the cloud of gloom now that I’m out of Mateo’s room and back in Vince’s. I still think about the possibility of cameras all the time, because there aren’t any visible in Vince’s room, which means there are hidden ones. Vince hasn’t touched me again, giving me time to heal, but I think about it when we’re lying in bed. Will Mateo be able to watch? I guess I shouldn’t care so much. Voyeurism would at least be less intrusive than what he’s already done.

Between school, the bakery, and hiding out in Vince’s room, I don’t have to see Mateo again until Wednesday night.

Maria comes to tell me Mateo wants to see me in his study before dinner. She brings a garment bag, but I don’t even open it.

“What if I don’t go?” I ask. I don’t know why I think she could anticipate his reaction, but I really, really don’t want to find myself alone with him again. Especially not right now, when I have no idea of his mental state. Is he pissed that his little plan didn’t work? That I’m back with Vince? Will he redouble his attempts to break us up? I know Vince is fighting to stay with me now and to keep Mateo out of our relationship, but I’m not sure how we will hold up under the reality. If Mateo decides to keep me as a plaything, will Vince be able to handle it? Will I?

Warily shaking her head, Maria said, “You don’t say no to Mateo.”

“But what if I do?”

“I think you can guess,” she states. “He isn’t alone. Adrian is with him.”

That makes me breathe a lot easier. He may be a creep, but I don’t think he’d rape me in front of Adrian.

“Why does he want to see me?”

She merely shrugs, leaving the room.

In a small act of defiance, I don one of the dresses Vince gave me.

I don’t know where Vince is, but I wish I did. I really don’t want to go to Mateo’s study without telling him. We haven’t discussed how we’ll deal with this, but my instinct is that I should be as open as possible when I’m going to be around him. Secrets will only make him stop trusting me again.

I haven’t decided how that openness will work concerning sexual activity. I hope to God it never comes up again, but I have no idea how to handle it if it does.

When I show up in the study, Adrian is still there, so I breathe a little easier. Mateo’s leaning against his desk, drink in hand, and he allows his eyes to move over my body. I expect him to react to my not wearing whatever dress he must have sent up, but his perusal of my body only turns up pleasure.

“Mia,” he says warmly.

Staying by the door, I square my shoulders. “Maria said you wanted to see me.”

“Correct. You can come closer.”

“I’m all right.”

Cocking his head to the side, he gives me about two seconds, then he pushes off the desk and strides over to me. I fall back a step, but I know I can’t leave. He stops in front of me, looking down at me, seeming to shrink me with his gaze. After several long seconds, he reaches behind me and shoves the study door closed.

“Just because I’m letting you sleep in Vince’s bed, Mia, don’t get confused and think you’re allowed to start defying me.” Furthering his point, he drags the back of two fingers across my collar bone, dipping threateningly toward my cleavage.

Body taut with tension, I offer a barely perceptible nod. I don’t relish the reminder that whatever victory it feels like we’ve achieved, we only have it because he’s allowing it.

His hand leaves me, but the tension doesn’t leave my body.

“Tomorrow night I’m hosting a poker game. I want you to come.”

“I don’t know how to play poker.”

That makes him laugh. The bastard gives me another warm smile, like he just finds me goddamn delightful. “No, you won’t be playing. You’ll be there to help out. To look pretty,” he adds with a wink.

“Will Vince be there?”

“No.”

I hesitate, not wanting him to take my next statement as any sort of challenge. “He won’t want me to go.”

Mateo rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

I really don’t want to put Vince through this. I mean, I don’t want to do it to begin with, but I certainly don’t want to leave him all night to wonder if Mateo’s doing… Mateo things.

I don’t know how to say any of this. There would be no point. It’s nothing he doesn’t already know; he just doesn’t care. What I don’t want to do is make him feel he has a point to prove about my obedience.

I wish I could make him promise me I’ll be safe, but he doesn’t have to. He wasn’t requesting my presence, he was telling me where I would be going. Finally, I nod. “All right.”

This pleases him, and he gives me another agreeable smile. My stomach turns over, because for some sick reason, it brings me relief to have pleased him.

“Is that all?” I ask, wanting to get out of here.

“Yes,” he says, easily. “Cherie will get you ready. I believe Maria already brought something up for you to wear.” Barely pausing a second, he adds, “I’ll give Vince something to keep him occupied. Tell him where you’ll be or don’t.”

A shiver goes down my spine at that, at the secrecy implied. I don’t want to have secrets with this man, especially not secrets from Vince.

Ignoring that temptation, knowing it would just blow up in my face later, I say, “No. I’ll tell him.”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “Suit yourself.”

Our business complete, he allows me to leave. On the other side, I lean heavily against the wall, my mind racing a million different ways. I was dreading seeing him again, being alone with him—have been, since Sunday night. It feels bizarrely comforting, despite his casual threats, that everything was… fairly normal. He didn’t seem angry at me. He didn’t seem resentful or put out. His reaction is nothing like Vince’s—and I feel so relieved. It doesn’t make sense, but I don’t dread the next time I’ll see him as much.

But that distresses me. Relief distresses me, because I shouldn’t be relieved. I hate him. He’s a terrible human being who manipulates and controls everyone around him—and I’m damn sure no exception.

There’s something… addictive about him though. Something that leaves me craving the approval of a man I hate.

How bleeped up is that?

More unsettled than I had been when I knew I was coming to meet him, I head for the dining room to get ready for dinner.



---



Vince sits on the edge of the bed, watching Cherie curl my hair.

Nobody speaks. Well, occasionally Cherie, when she has to tell me to tilt or not move my head, but Vince and I are both silent.

Finally finished, she grabs hair spray and coats my hair.

“Is that necessary? She’s not going to the fucking prom,” Vince says, understandably aggravated.

I’m sort of regretting not taking Mateo up on his offer to keep Vince busy. Maybe I should have asked him to, even though I was telling Vince. It’s not helping anyone to have him sitting here, watching Cherie doll me up on orders from Mateo, none of us knowing exactly what I’m walking into, but all of us aware of what could happen.

Cherie understands, so she doesn’t say anything in response.

“Let’s grab the outfit. Where’d you put it?”

“It’s still in the bag,” I tell her. “I put it in the closet after dinner last night.”

A few minutes later, the outfit is out of the bag and I am horrified. Vince’s temper, thus far controlled, seems like it’s going to explode any second.

“That’s what you’re supposed to wear,” he says, each word angrier than the last.

I understand why. Unlike the classy dresses he bought me for dinner, this outfit is just plain trash. The fire engine red corset top is… well, a corset. There’s a skimpy black skirt that may not even cover my ass, and a pair of thigh-high, fishnet stockings to finish off the “$25 for a Mouth Action, $100 for an hour” look I’m apparently going for.

“He’s just goading you, probably,” I tell him.

“They’re just clothes,” Cherie adds, trying to help.

Vince is unimpressed by our attempts.

I’m not at all looking forward to putting this on, so I take it in the bathroom, wanting to see the damage first. It’s not good. I do what I can to loosen the corset and take the attention off my boobs, but it’s ineffective. Even a gay man would have to look right at them on sight.

Why is he doing this?

Giving up on the impossible, I open the bathroom door and march out to the firing squad.

Vince’s eyes get the lusty look I recognize, but it’s struggling with his short fuse, and the short fuse is winning.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, shrugging like it doesn’t even bother me. “It’s just an outfit. It’s fine.”

“Don’t go.”

“Vince…” I sigh, because he knows that’s not an option.

“He’s gonna… he’s not going to keep his hands off you, Mia.”

Gathering up her things quietly, Cherie says, “I’m done here, so… I’m gonna leave you guys to… all this.”

I don’t blame her. I wish I could bail, too.

Placing my hands on Vince’s shoulders, innocently pressing my boobs against his chest, I say, “Let’s fight the battles we can win. Mateo’s going to be busy playing poker with his buddies. We won’t be alone.”

“What if I rip it? You can’t wear it if it’s damaged.”

“Don’t,” I say, stilling his hand as it skates toward my corset. “Please. I don’t want to provoke him. Just… it’s just an outfit. It’ll be over in a few hours.”

“I’m waiting up,” he states, like I have any power over when we’ll get back.

“Don’t torture yourself. I’ll wake you up to let you know I’m home safe if you want me to.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

Reaching for his hand, I state, “We’re not letting him do this, remember? I know it’s hard, trust me, it’s not easy for me either, but…”

“How am I supposed to send you off to him, knowing what’s going to happen?”

I take a slow breath and let it out, wondering the same thing. But I know the answer. “Because we don’t have any alternative.”

“How are we supposed to live like this?” he asks, causing my hope to plummet. This is the first Mateo-sized bump we’ve come to since swearing we wouldn’t let him get to us, and he’s already getting to Vince. If we can’t survive one, how will we keep going?

“It’s the only way. We can’t keep going in circles. We already know where it ends up, and I don’t want to go back to that.”

Mainly because ‘that’ is Mateo’s bed, and if Mateo is my strongest lifeline? I’m super bleeped.

He looks down, shaking his head. “No, neither do I.”

“I’ll be fine. He won’t touch me.”

We both know it’s a lie, but Vince wants it to be true, so he nods like he believes it.



---



“Why don’t you bring that ass over here, sweetheart?”

As degrading as I feared tonight would be, it’s worse. Just not for the reason I expected.

Mateo isn’t the problem.

The other creeps trickling in to play poker are.

It’s still Mateo’s fault, I suppose. Dress me up like a hooker, I guess you can’t blame the guys for thinking I am one.

Six men sit around the table, draining glass after glass of liquor, smoking cigars, and occasionally pushing obscene amounts of money around the table.

Two hours of leering, two hours of their eyes all over my body. I need to shower for a week straight after I leave here tonight.

This one’s drunk though, I can see it in his face. His cheeks are ruddy, his eyes have the gleam of drunkenness, and his big bald head shines as I reluctantly approach him to give him more alcohol.

As I go to pour it, his hand creeps up under my skirt and over my ass. I gasp, jumping, alcohol sloshing out of the decanter as I try to right it in motion.

“Hey,” Mateo barks.

The laughter in the room dies, smiles falling from faces as they all look slowly in his direction.

I swallow nervously, looking at him myself.

His gaze is still on baldy, but then he looks at me. “You’re not gonna make me sit here thirsty, now are you?”

It’s a sad day when I’m so eager to get away from someone, I welcome approaching Mateo, but I scurry right over to him.

He watches my hand shake as I dump some of the alcohol into his tumbler. As soon as I finish, he picks up the cigar he’s been fiddling with for a couple of rounds and glances at me.

Finally, he holds it out to me. I take it but I don’t know why, and my uncertainty must register on my face. Before I have a chance to ask, his hands are on my hips, yanking me into his lap, adjusting me until I’m straddling him.

It’s harder to breathe, but I’m not scared. Just… confused.

He hands me the lighter, but my eyes can’t seem to move away from his.

Then with all the casualty of someone who does so every day, he plants his hands on my nearly-bare ass cheeks and pulls me against him.

He’s hard, and I’m sick, because my loins stir at the contact.

He plucks the cigar from my fingers, placing it into his mouth, and I realize he wants me to light it for him. I fiddle with the lighter, hands still unsteady, until I manage it.

Mateo gives me a slow smile and a little wink. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

My blood runs hot and cold, confusion and overstimulation wreaking havoc on my peace of mind. Not like I had much coming into tonight, but I get the feeling I’ll be leaving with significantly less.

He lets me off his lap a few minutes later, and I’m not immediately sure why he did it… until I notice the other guys barely even look my way again. I still bring them drinks or snacks or cigars, but no more leering to make me uncomfortable, and definitely no more groping.

He marked me as his.

I’m obviously not, but the knowledge does little to remove the mantle of guilt around my shoulders.

When I can get away, I text Vince to let him know everything’s going fine. I had to leave my phone in the other room, since my outfit leaves absolutely nowhere to store it. I also want to tell him that now, while it’s still true.

A little later, there’s a pounding on the door. Having seen too many movies, it scares me, and I think the game’s being busted or something.

Nobody else is concerned though.

“Probably Conroy’s lazy ass,” Mateo says to the table, before nodding at me. “Let ‘em in.”

I wish everyone would’ve arrived before Mateo did his little cigar performance, but I guess someone will clue any newcomers in if they start to act stupid.

Yanking the door open, I open my mouth to welcome them, but I stop short, mouth hanging open, because I recognize the two men at the door.

The cops who stopped me on my way to school Monday.

Chapter Twenty Six



Vince holds me for the rest of the night. I half expect someone to come summon at least one of us, but it never happens. I fall asleep sometime before the sun rises, but I’m still exhausted when I hear Vince’s alarm.

I wait for him to turn it off, but after a minute, I roll over and see he isn’t there. I reach over to turn the damn thing off myself, rubbing my temple as my head throbs. It’s going to be a long day.

Elise brings me breakfast, which she normally doesn’t, so I figure one of them must have told her to. I don’t ask which one. I don’t care.

I can’t feel anything again today. Maybe I’ll snap out of it once I wake up, but right now? Nope.

I don’t seek anyone out for a ride to school. There’s enough time to walk and I could use the fresh air.

I’m halfway to school when I hear the car behind me, slowing to a stop. No stop sign in sight, so my stomach sinks with dread, expecting to look over and see Mateo, or at the very least, Adrian.

When I look, however, there are two men I don’t recognize. My heartbeat skitters, wondering if these are Morelli flunkies, here to finish me off.

There are two men in the sleek white car, one in a black leather jacket and a complexion a shade or so darker than Cherie’s with a bushy black mustache and pudgy apple cheeks. The other man has ruddy cheeks and wears a black leather jacket, his gut hanging over a pair of extremely unfashionable blue jeans.

“Mia Mitchell?” Potbelly says.

I cut a look in their direction, clutching my phone in my pocket.

“Ma’am, are you Mia Mitchell?”

“No,” I reply.

Pressing his lips together, he says, “Ma’am, we know you are.”

“Then why ask?” I respond, picking up the pace.

The other man speaks up, “Miss Mitchell, we just need to ask you a few questions.”

I finally stop, stomach dropping as Potbelly holds up a badge for me to see. “Now, please.”

“Why?” I ask, even though I can guess.

“We have a few questions, ma’am, just a few questions. It’ll only take a few moments of your time.”

Swallowing, casting a gaze over my shoulder, I tell him, “I’ll be late to school.”

“Hop on in, we’ll give you a ride.”

My eyes widen in horror. “No! No, not… I can’t.”

“Let me make it easy for you, Miss Mitchell. You can get in the car with us now and answer a few questions, then be on your way to school, or we can take you down to the station for questioning instead. Whichever’s easiest for you.”

I remain on the sidewalk, my eyes searching the road behind me, making sure Mateo didn’t send anyone to follow me. Fear pierces the veil of numbness, ripping a hole down the middle and shedding it.

“I can’t talk to you. I don’t know anything.”

Throwing the car in park, Apple Cheeks waits while Potbelly opens the car door. “All right, down to the station it is.”

“No,” I say quickly, heart hammering. “No, I’ll get in the car.”

I look one last time before I open the back door and climb inside. Shifting my backpack in my lap, I try to calm my racing heart, afraid they’ll be able to see how nervous I am.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say.

“No, we didn’t think you did, Miss Mitchell. Thing is, it’s come to our attention you’ve been spending time with the Morelli family lately.”

“Is that a crime?” I ask.

Potbelly chooses his words carefully. “Well, no. But it might not surprise you to hear they’re being investigated for several cases of wrongdoing. We looked into you, Miss Mitchell, and it just happens that you live right next door to one of those investigations.”

Fear ties my stomach into knots, thinking of Vince. Thinking of the night of the fire, then the night he broke in to threaten me. God, what I’d give to go back to that being the scariest part of my day.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I tell them.

He reads off the address to the house next door to mine. “There’s nothing you could tell us about the fire that happened at that address?”

“It was tragic,” I say, unhelpfully. “I heard they were doing drugs or something.”

“Actually, they were drug dealers. For a, I guess what you’d call a ‘rival’ family. Odd coincidence, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know anything,” I state, hugging my backpack against my chest. “I didn’t know my neighbors well and I had no idea they were any kind of rivals or whatever to… anyone, so I’m afraid I can’t be much help.”

“What’s your relationship to Vince Morelli?” Apple Cheeks asks.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“And as your boyfriend, I can see how you might feel badly talking to us about him, but this is important, Miss Mitchell. If you don’t want to help us, things could get bad for you.”

“I did nothing wrong. You can’t threaten me.”

“That’s true,” Potbelly drawls. “However, turns out your mom came into some money pretty unexpectedly, and… well, as much as I’d hate to have to involve her, it might be worth looking into.”

Narrowing my eyes, I reiterate, “I don’t know anything about the fire.”

“That’s too bad. What about anything else? Even if you don’t know about the fire, maybe you know something else that could help us? Why don’t you think real hard? Anything.”

Apple Cheeks chimes in, a little softer. “We can keep you safe, Mia. If your concern is that there would be retaliation, we can guarantee you that won’t happen.”

Shaking my head, I say, “You can’t guarantee that.”

“We can. There are programs in place to protect people like you, Miss Mitchell. We could keep you safe all the way up to testifying, and forever after. With your help, we could put Mateo Morelli behind bars, and you and your family would never be in a lick of danger for it.”

Easing back in the seat, I mull over those words. What if that’s true? There’s witness protection, right? What if I really could give them dirt on Mateo, and just like that, he’d be out of my life?

Vince would probably go down with him, though. Even after last night, I don’t want that.

But Mateo…. Mateo would deserve it.

They’d probably go easier on Vince than him anyway—Vince is small potatoes. Mateo’s the one they want. Maybe they would even work with me to spare Vince in exchange for giving them Mateo. And I probably could—with what Adrian said in front of me. I could tie Mateo himself directly to it.

“I know you’re angry right now, hurt, scared, but you should know this doesn’t change anything. Like me or hate me, you will remain loyal to me. You speak a word about anything you shouldn’t, and I will end you.”

The memory of Mateo’s threat—uttered mere moments after violating me—causes gooseflesh to rise on my arms.

“I’m sorry,” I say, lowly. “I don’t know a single thing that could be of use to you.”

“Ma’am, your mother—”

“Investigate her if you have to,” I interrupt, shoving open the door. “I can’t help you.”

I hope it’s over once I’m outside of the car, but Potbelly holds out a business card for me to take. “Well, why don’t you take this, just in case you remember anything? Maybe you’ll hear something we can use in the future.”

I stare at the card, but I know I can’t take it. Forget the possibility of somebody finding it—if I have that in my possession and Mateo assaults me again, I might be tempted to call.

Swallowing, I shake my head and walk away.



---



Don’t go to the bakery after school. Taking you to dinner. Wear whatever you want.

I get the text from Vince at lunch.

My initial response is uncertainty—it’s already been a hell of a day, and I haven’t even left school yet. I don’t really want to face Mateo though, particularly after last night, so I don’t reject his offer.

Cherie takes me home after school, and since I know I’m doing dinner with Vince, I go to our room to do my homework.

A little after four, Vince shows up.

“You ready to go?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say, flipping my textbook closed. When I stand and turn to face him, however, I’m caught off guard. Vince’s eye appears to be swollen, and his lip is split. Rushing over to him, I reach out a hand to touch him, but stop short, figuring it might hurt. “Oh, my God, Vince. What happened?”

He shakes his head like it doesn’t matter. “I’m fine.”

“Did someone hit you?”

“I’m fine. It was nothing.”

“Who did this?” My first thought, honestly, is Adrian. He seems to be the only decent one around here, and even he isn’t decent enough to stop any of it. Then again, I don’t know if he’d actually hit Vince. He doesn’t tread carefully around the Morelli men like everyone else, but that may be taking things too far.

“It was just sparring,” he says dismissively.

“Sparring?” I ask, quirking a skeptical eyebrow.

“I think Mateo just really wanted to punch me in the face. It was at the gym. It’s fine.”

I’m surprised to hear it was Mateo, though I guess maybe it’s payback for his little scene at the table yesterday. If so, it’s a light enough retaliation. I guess that’s why Vince doesn’t care.

“I feel like for future reference, not sparring with him would be a good idea,” I advise.

Rolling his eyes, he says, “He’d still punch me if he wanted to. Mateo does what he wants, Mia. Don’t worry about it. At worst, it may get ugly in a couple days.” Nodding toward the door, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

Grabbing my purse from the floor, I follow him out. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he tells me, surprising me by reaching down and taking my hand.

I offer a tentative smile when he looks over at me, but I’m confused. We haven’t been out on an actual date since I moved in, and obviously last night he was not in the mood to wine and dine me.

I think he feels guilty. Which… well, I guess he should.

I watch out the window as he drives, trying to guess where we might be going, but I have no idea. When he finally pulls into a parking area, it’s outside an apartment complex.

“This is where we’re eating?” I ask, confused.

Instead of answering me, he takes me by the hand again and leads me inside.

I’m surprised again when he pauses outside room 602 and uses a key.

Then he opens the door and gestures for me to go inside. Thoroughly confused, I look around. It’s sparsely furnished, but as soon as I spot the kitchen, I see pots and cans of food, a bag of flour, spices, and some kind of silver machine with a crank handle. Across the kitchen in the corner there’s a small round table with two chairs, an unlit candle at the center, already set for two.

A smile spreading across my face, I ask, “What is this?”

“I asked Joey if I could borrow his apartment for the evening. I seem to remember we’re way overdue for a spaghetti dinner.”

Recalling the time he bought my groceries and then I asked him to leave, I nod my head. “I guess we are.”

“And I know you just use the readymade stuff, but I can’t eat spaghetti sauce from a jar. It just isn’t right.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Don’t be a spaghetti snob; it’s good!”

“Well, I’m going to show you how to make your own spaghetti sauce, and we’re making our own pasta. We’ll see which one’s better.”

“This is nice,” I tell him, feeling lighter than I have in a while.

Taking my hand, he lifts it and places a light kiss to my knuckles. “Good. After dinner, we’ve got the living room to ourselves—any movie you want. At least, any movie that Joey has that you want.”

“I’m sure I’ll be overwhelmed by the selection,” I assure him.

“I hope you like Jason Statham.”

Snorting, I respond, “Who doesn’t?”

A few minutes later, washed up and ingredients sorted, Vince and I start dinner.

“I’ve never cooked with a guy before,” I tell him, mincing garlic.

“Weird, me neither.”

I roll my eyes at him. “That’s because in your family only women cook.”

Lifting an eyebrow as if to admit his inability to argue that, he says, “Well, this is my mom’s recipe, so I know it’s good.”

“You never told me about your mom.”

His demeanor dims a little, and I feel him want to retreat. To his credit, he doesn’t. “Like most Morelli women, she got trapped into a relationship with one of us bastards and couldn’t get out.”

“Ah,” I murmur, nodding. “How did she die?”

“Pills. Killed herself.”

My head snaps up. “Oh, Jesus. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

He dumps a can of diced tomatoes into the pot. “I always told myself I wouldn’t be like him. Swore it. I didn’t want to become someone I hated.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking about Mateo or his father, but I really don’t want to bring up the former if he’s not talking about him, so I guess, “Your dad?”

He nods. “I’d never let him meet you. He’s garbage.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re not like him, then,” I say easily, lifting the chopping board and taking it over to the pot, scraping the garlic in.

“I was last night,” he states, quietly.

Putting the cutting board and knife down on the counter, I wrap an arm around him and give him a squeeze. “No.”

“Yes. Eighteen years ago, he did to Maria what I did to you, and every day I see Cherie it’s a reminder of the kind of man I don’t want to be.”

That stuns me. Mateo had filled me in on their relation, but he certainly hadn’t indicated it had been non-consensual. I just figured he had an affair with the maid—typical.

“Your dad and Maria weren’t…?”

“She hated him,” Vince states. “He wanted her anyway. Morelli men take what they want.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s not like I haven’t seen proof of precisely that since joining their bleeped up family.

“I don’t want to be like that, Mia.”

“Then don’t,” I say simply.

“I’m so sorry for last night,” he says, meeting my gaze.

“I know. It’s okay. We don’t have to… It’s over. I forgive you. We’re okay. I just want us to get past everything. I don’t want to dwell.”

“No matter what happens, nothing like that will ever happen to you again at my hands.”

Offering a supportive smile, I nod. “I know.”

“And you were right about what you said, too. Mateo can’t get between us unless we let him. I’m not gonna let him anymore.”

“Neither am I,” I state.

Leaning in to touch his forehead against mine, Vince asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Smiling slightly, I tell him, “Always.”

Chapter Twenty Five



I don’t get out of bed to do more than shower or pee until Sunday. Mateo makes me eat breakfast, even though it makes me feel ill, and I would stay here in my dead little shell for much longer, only he doesn’t let me.

Draping a new garment bag across the foot of the bed, he says, “Time to get up.”

“Why?”

“It’s family dinner day. Mandatory.”

“Still?”

He merely smiles.

I’m not prepared for this hell, but I force myself to shower and get dressed. The new dress is white and sleeveless, high necked, but tightly fitted. Gazing at myself in Mateo’s bathroom mirror, I consider the irony that he’s dressing me in white now that I’m sullied beyond redemption.

For shoes, he had my Louboutins brought in. I didn’t think anything could make me stop loving those damn shoes, but boy, he managed to find a way.

It’s the first I’ve really seen anybody in four days, so I guess it’s not surprising that everyone I come across stares before awkwardly saying hello. Despite my dark mood, I managed to pull it together physically, and I don’t look as horrible as I feel.

I expect Cherie to hate me, since she’s Vince’s sister, so I’m surprised when she wraps an arm around me in the kitchen and asks, “You okay?”

I shrug. “I guess so.”

Francesca avoids my gaze, and when it’s time to serve the food, I understand why.

I grab two plates, dropping Mateo’s cranberries on his, and none on the salad for Vince.

As gently as I think she can, Francesca takes Vince’s plate. “I got this one.”

I close my eyes, bracing myself on the edge of the counter. I get it now, why Vince was so pissed about it before. Not only have I been stripped of my relationship, now I’m going to walk out there and his entire family is going to see the evidence.

Worse, they’re going to see me only serving Mateo now.

Steeling myself for whatever’s about to come, I grab Mateo’s salad and head for the dining room. My eyes find Vince immediately, expecting him to have moved, but he’s in the same spot as always, my seat open next to him. My heart skips a beat, realizing they didn’t move my spot, so I’ll still be stuck between them.

Perfect.

Vince looks up when I walk in, hurt transforming his features at the sight of me. His gaze moves over my body, unfortunately prominently displayed in this tight-ass dress, and comes to settle on the single salad plate in my hand.

I feel like I’m stepping on his heart with the heel of my stiletto when I stop by Mateo, putting it down in front of him.

Vince’s hands are clenched into fists on the table, and I see him squeeze, his jaw locked so tightly it looks painful.

I go back and get my salad, even though there’s no chance I’ll be able to eat.

I slide into the seat next to Vince, scooting forward, willing myself just to push the food around as long as I have to.

I don’t expect Vince to speak to me, so I’m more than a little surprised when he says, “You look pretty.”

I dare a glance in his direction, but his eyes are glued on the glass of alcohol on the table in front of him.

“Thank you,” I say, quietly.

My stomach pitches and turns like a ship caught in a storm. After a few bites, I give up on the salad and turn to wine. I know I’ll be in Mateo’s bed again tonight, and maybe I’ll feel a bit better about it if I manage to get drunk first. I wish I had the nerve to take what Vince has, but the sexist assbags only give women wine at dinner, no hard liquor.

Which, I call bullshit, because we need hard liquor to deal with them.

Once Mateo finishes his salad, I push back and stand to clear his plate.

Vince’s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist before I’m all the way up. I freeze, not sure what to expect.

“I want you to bring my dinner,” he states.

Swallowing, hating the impulse, I look to Mateo. I catch mild surprise on his face before he clears it, his gaze moving to mine, watching to see what I’ll say.

“Okay,” I say uncertainly.

Mateo, probably not pleased with my response, meets Vince’s gaze. “Why?”

Vince’s eyes meet his, full of resentment. “Why not?”

Not one to be challenged, Mateo gives a deceptively casual shrug. “Well, I’m the one fvcking her each night, I’m the one waking up with her tangled in my arms every morning, doesn’t seem to me there’s much reason—”

Vince’s chair flies back and I jump, gasping. Mateo already had the attention of half the table with his boastful assholery, but the few at the far end who hadn’t been looking are now.

“Fvck that,” Vince says lowly. “Fvck. That.”

“Vince,” I say, glancing over at Mateo. I don’t disagree, but I don’t think it’s even safe to make a scene telling Mateo to fvck off at family dinner. I envision Mateo pulling out his gun, the one that’s been inside me, and shooting Vince without remorse, just because he fvcking can. I envision shocked faces around the dinner table, but all of us too afraid to defy Mateo, so we finish our dinner while Vince’s body grows cold right there on the ground next to us.

“No,” Vince says, his finger in my face. “You shut up.”

I do, not because I’m obeying, but because I’m a little shocked.

“Fvck this,” Vince says again. “She’s mine. I never gave her up; I never said I didn’t want her… No.”

Mateo doesn’t respond, and Vince doesn’t give anyone else a chance to. Locking his hand around my wrist, he drags me out of the dining room.

My heart pounds as I scurry to keep up with him, glancing back nervously. “Are we allowed to do this?”

“Everyone else takes what they want, why the fvck should I care?” he mutters.

“I don’t think we’re allowed to leave Sunday dinner,” I point out.

“Fvck Sunday dinner.”

This feels more than a little reckless to me, but I don’t get the impression he’s interested in my opinion. I don’t know what’s going to happen, not right now, not tomorrow, but I guess I’m along for the ride either way.

When we get to his room, Vince slams it shut, then backs me up toward the bed. My heart’s racing, doubtful about this whole thing. He said he couldn’t even look at me, so how’s this going to work?

Also, he still looks angry. Here he is, with me in his bedroom, our bodies close enough to touch, but there’s a fire behind his brown eyes, burning up any tenderness I might have hoped to see there.

He doesn’t speak to me. I think he’s going to, but it looks like he changes his mind. Instead, he grabs the bottom of my dress and hikes it up, startling me.

Hands on my hips, he lets his gaze rake over my body. I glance down, noticing bruises on my thighs—marks left by Mateo.

It seems to settle on Vince at the same time. His gaze frozen on my marked thighs, he swallows and takes a step back.

I don’t want him to retreat, and I feel sick that he had to see that, but I don’t want him to pull away, so I take a step toward him.

“Don’t think about it,” I say quietly.

“How?” he asks. “It’s all I can think about.”

“I didn’t want him. Doesn’t that count for something?”

His lips curve up, his smile bitter. “Thing is, Mia, I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t want to believe me,” I accuse, not understanding why. “How is it so hard to believe—?”

“You were sitting in his study visiting with him when Adrian told him about a pick-up this weekend. He let you sit there—and no one was forcing you to be there.”

“I was just trying to get along. I just wanted things to be amicable, I never thought… I never thought he’d actually force himself on me, Vince.”

“Mateo doesn’t trust anyone, Mia. Least of all someone he’s giving reason to hate him.”

“He wasn’t trusting me, he was setting me up,” I say, a little irritably. “For this, right here. You were right all along, he never intended to let me go because I saw you walk out of that goddamn house. Instead of telling you no, for whatever reason, he said as long as you want me, and then immediately began sabotaging us. I should’ve believed you. I don’t know… if it would’ve stopped this from happening, but maybe then you’d at least believe me.”

“Now you know how I felt, trying to tell you what he was like and you not believing me. Calling me paranoid and crazy—treating me like I’m the asshole, when all I was trying to do was protect you.”

“I get that now. I didn’t then. I have no frame of reference for this, Vince. I’ve never known people like that. I didn’t know how to navigate this world. I’m supposed to keep you happy, I’m supposed to be careful around him—I’m so fvcking twisted up between the two of you.”

His jaw locks again, and I can see his anger seeping out again. “I can’t stand to think about his hands on you. You’ve slept in his bed the past three nights—apparently you wake up tangled in his motherfvcking arms every morning.”

“He only said that to hurt you.”

“Well, it fvcking worked,” he says, raising his voice. “Why did you stay, Mia? If he hurt you, if you didn’t want him, if you were so goddamn afraid of losing me, why did you stay with him?”

Shaking my head, I try to come up with an adequate explanation. “I didn’t think you wanted me to come back. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s not like I get to leave here if you cast me aside, Vince. It’s not like I have options.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he demands irritably. “It weighs on me every fvcking day. It has since he brought you here, but now? Now I get to lie in my own goddamn bed with images of you spreading your legs for him, of his mouth on you—and you enjoying it.”

I open my mouth to say I didn’t, but I can’t. Obviously the first two times I did enjoy it, I just… didn’t know it was him.

He moves in again, giving me a light shove. I drop to the bed, scooting backward uncertainly. “Right here,” he says, pointing to the bed. “Is this where you let my cousin fbck you?”

“You’re not being fair,” I tell him.

“What about this morning, huh? Before you put on this pretty dress and came down to serve him dinner, did he fulvck you then?”

I close my eyes, unable to look at him, torn by too many different feelings—not least of all, shame.

“He did,” he says slowly. “He’s been inside you today, hasn’t he?”

“Please stop,” I say, not liking this.

“Then get it out of my head!”

“I don’t know how!” I cry, wishing I did. “You have to want to, Vince. I’m not a goddamn magician. Tell me how to make it better!”

“Promise me he won’t touch you again.”

With a bitter laugh, I shake my head. “How? How can I promise that? I can promise if he does, I’ll fight, but how do I promise you he won’t force me? You act like this is my doing. If I could stop him, I would have already!”

“I’m gonna kill him,” he says, jaw locked as he spins around.

“Don’t say that,” I say, immediately. “You don’t mean that—”

Spinning back around, he gapes at me in furious disbelief. “Are you fvcking kidding me? Don’t you fvcking defend him to me, Mia.”

Stomach sinking, I shake my head in denial. “No, I wasn’t. That’s not what I… that’s not what I meant.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out that Cherie said there are cameras everywhere but the bathrooms, that I’ve been thinking about it over the past few days and I think maybe he does watch them. It’s awfully coincidental that as soon as Vince tells me he doesn’t want kids, Mateo decides to fvck me with no condom.

But Vince isn’t listening—he’s enraged, climbing across the bed in my direction. I skitter back, nervous, and he catches my leg, yanking me down near him.

“Vince, Wait—”

“You tell me he fvcking forces you and then you have the audacity to be protective of that son of a bitch?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

He doesn’t let me finish, jerking my dress up around my waist and shoving me down on the bed. I panic, trying to get back up, but he pins me to the bed just like Mateo has.

“Is that what you like? Am I not dangerous enough for you, Mia?”

“Vince, stop,” I cry, tears leaking out of my eyes now. “That wasn’t what I was—I’m not protective of Mateo—”

“Stop fvcking talking about him,” he bites out, grabbing my bruised thighs and wrenching them apart.

“Please, Vince, not like this.”

“I know I’m not the Morelli who last had his dick inside you in this bed, or even today, but I’ll have to fvcking do.”

I sob, dropping my face to the pillow as Vince shoves inside me. I’m already so sore from Mateo and he’s being so mean that every thrust burns like hell. I can’t stop crying the whole time, and when he finally finishes, I realize he’s not wearing a condom either. I don’t know whether he was so angry he forgot, or he figures if I do wind up pregnant, at least now there will be a sliver of a chance he’s the father.

He doesn’t curl up next to me when he’s done, he just gets off the bed and goes to the bathroom, leaving me half-naked and alone.

When he comes back out, he’s still angry. I can’t look at him, but I can tell by the way he’s slamming shit.

Finally moving, I pull my legs together and curl up on my side, tucking myself into a ball.

Vince stops pacing around the room after a few minutes and walks over to the bedside, watching me. He sits on the edge of the bed with his back to me, running a hand over his face and through his hair.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he finally says.

I don’t know if he means brutalizing me or the lack of condom, and he doesn’t clarify.

He’s close enough now that I don’t have to speak loudly. “The cameras.”

Vince frowns, not understanding.

“I just didn’t want him to hear you say that on the cameras. Didn’t want him to take it as a threat. He’d hurt you.”

He’s dead silent so I glance up at him, watching understanding dawn, then morph into dull horror as he realizes his mistake. “You weren’t…?”

I shake my head no. I can see he’s about to sink under the realization, and I don’t have the mental capacity left to deal with it today, so I ask, “Will you hold me?”

Understandably surprised, he asks, “You want me to?”

“It’s been a rough week,” I point out. I could use a little comfort, and there’s really nowhere else to get any.

Sighing heavily, he yanks back the comforter and climbs on the bed. First he drapes the blanket over my body, like it can cover up what he just did, then he settles in behind me, pulling me into his arms. I lean into him, closing my eyes and wondering how the hell my life got turned upside down so completely in such a short stretch of time.

Chapter Twenty Four



I don’t know where to go when Mateo’s done with me.

He climbs off the bed, retrieving his gun from the night stand, and gets himself cleaned up and dressed. I don’t move. Dread has swallowed me up. I don’t know where I go from here. What happens to me.

Does he send me back to Vince’s room?

Does Vince really know? What does Vince know?

Oh, God. Vince.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I try to turn my feelings back off. I can’t process them right now, I just need… nothingness.

Once he’s finished, Mateo looks as good as he did at the breakfast table, all decked out in his sharp suit. You can’t tell there’s a monster inside him. His hair’s a little more tousled than it was prior to our struggle, but wouldn’t you know, it looks good on him.

Tears form in my eyes again, but I’m not even sure what they’re from.

“You can stay in here if you want,” he offers. “Vince won’t come in here.”

“What did you tell him?” I ask quietly.

“I didn’t tell him anything.”

I sigh tiredly. “What does he know?”

“Enough,” he says simply.

I hesitate, hating the question so much I don’t want to ask, but I ask anyway, because I have to. “What is he… what is he going to do to me?”

“I’m not sure,” he says honestly.

My last vestige of safety, gone.

“I won’t let him kill you,” he says.

I guess I’m supposed to be grateful.

I’m not.

It looks like he’s about to move away from the bed, but he stops, leaning over to look at me. “I know you’re angry right now, hurt, scared, but you should know this doesn’t change anything. Like me or hate me, you will remain loyal to me. You speak a word about anything you shouldn’t, and I will end you.”

I can’t believe he’s making me declare my goddamn allegiance to him moments after raping me, but I give a brief nod. “I know.”

“Good,” he says, taking a step back. “Take all the time you need.”

And with that, Mateo Morelli leaves me, a broken mess, in his goddamn bed.



---



I don’t know how long I remain hidden in his room, but it feels like an eternity.

Eventually, I drag my body from his bed and into his bathroom—his huge, ridiculous fvcking bathroom. There’s furniture inside. Who needs furniture in their bathroom? A chaise is angled in front of the tub, like he sits there, watching people bathe. Who would ever even use it? And if for some reason you needed to? There’s a goddamn cushioned window seat along the wall.

I’m disgusted instead of impressed by the excess now. His fvcking bathroom is bigger than my mother’s living room—and it’s not even close.

The shower stall is huge, too, and impeccably clean. I’m relieved, because I wind up sitting in the corner under the spray, sobbing.

When all the hot water is gone, I finally pull myself up and get out. I don’t have any clean clothes and I’m too afraid to go to Vince’s room to get any, but none of the maids have come to check on me, so I can’t even ask them to bring me a change.

Finally, I emerge from Mateo’s master suite in the clothes I dressed in this morning, an eternity ago. Terror keeps my steps slow, wondering if Vince is home, if anyone will pass me in the hallway and know where I’m coming from. I can’t help but assume everyone knows, and everyone hates me now.

They all tried to warn me, after all.

Even Mateo knew that.

I find one of the sitting rooms without coming into contact with anyone, so I stop there, thinking maybe I’ll stay. It’s sparsely furnished and not exactly cozy since it’s one of the aggressively untouched, secondary sitting areas, but I don’t know what awaits me where the people are.

I assume Vince is home by now. I don’t know what time it is, but it seems like enough time has passed. Unless he isn’t coming home at all. Maybe he’s abandoning me here with Mateo; maybe he’s too disappointed even to confront me.

I wish I knew what he’d been told. At least then I could try to prepare for it.

Nobody finds me, and after a while I leave the sitting room. The huge house suddenly seems very lonely, and I wonder if it feels this way to everyone else. I’ve been so dazzled by it up until now, but ultimately it’s too big. Even for so many people.

Maria comes down the hall as I meander off to nowhere, pausing when she sees me. It looked like she was in a hurry, so I’m surprised when she stops.

We just stand there, staring at each other.

“There’s an empty room in Francesca’s wing,” she finally says. “I can’t put you there or promise they’ll let you stay, but if you’re looking for somewhere to…”

Hide. She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t need to. The fact that she knows I should worries me.

“Is… anyone here?” I ask.

“Vince just got home. Not happy.”

My stomach sinks. I realize I was hoping he would stay away, at least for today.

“He’s looking for you,” she adds. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be easy to find.”

I nod woodenly, but I continue toward the main hall instead of changing directions and heading for Francesca’s. “He’ll find me eventually.”

She crosses herself before walking away. I don’t take it as a good sign.

I’m not sure if it’s a low point, exactly, but I’m legitimately terrified Vince is going to hurt me. I don’t want to believe he ever would, but given how angry he got over far less, it seems a likely outcome.

What I’m hoping is he’ll surprise me. Instead of angry at me, he’ll be hurt with me. He’ll hold me, comfort me, take me back to our bedroom.

“I don’t need you fvcking following me, Adrian.”

The sound of Vince’s voice freezes me in my tracks. He’s just around the next corner. I’m tempted to turn back and change my mind, but I don’t, because there’s no time.

Adrian’s voice is low, gravelly as he tells him, “I just want to make sure you don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

If he was going to respond to Adrian, he doesn’t. His eyes land on me and he stops short. I hold his gaze for a few seconds, neither of us moving. Adrian still takes a couple steps forward, eyeing me warily.

Then Vince is in motion, eyes narrowed and more or less vibrating with rage.

“You’re fvcking him?”

I shake my head, unmoving, tears welling up in my eyes. “No.”

“Don’t fvcking lie to me, Mia,” he snaps.

“I’m not. I’m not. I didn’t know, Vince. I didn’t—”

“How the fvck do you not know?” he demands, grabbing me by the wrists and pushing me up against the wall.

I cry out, not because he hurt me, but because I’m afraid he’s going to. “I’m sorry,” I say, not even struggling against his hold. “You were right about everything and I should’ve listened… I should’ve listened, but I believed him,” I say, choking on a sob. “I didn’t think he was… but he is, and I’m so sorry.”

“Now that you’ve fvcked him you’re sorry? Isn’t that convenient!”

“I didn’t,” I cry, face crumbling. “Stop saying that, I didn’t…”

“In my bed, Mia. In my fvcking bed.”

“I thought he was you!” I cry. Whether he likes it or not, it’s the truth. “I was asleep, it was the middle of the night in our room and I thought you came home—why would I ever think it could be anyone else?”

“You have eyes, don’t you?” he demands, his own eyes widening with belligerence.

I shake my head, looking away from him. “I wasn’t facing him. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I didn’t know, Vince. I didn’t do it to hurt you, I didn’t even know. He manipulated me, just like you said.”

“How many times, Mia?”

At first I think he’s asking how many times I was with Mateo, but before I can answer, he continues.

“How many times did I try to tell you? I tried so fvcking hard to protect you.”

Adrian hasn’t moved to interfere, but at this, he takes a step forward. “Vince, come on.”

“What?” he practically roars, glaring at Adrian.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Adrian states.

I’m a sobbing mess, but I look up, surprised Adrian would say anything in my defense.

“You know that,” Adrian states, shaking his head. “This was always going to happen; it was just a matter of how and when. You knew that.”

“And I tried to stop it,” he states.

“But nothing could have,” he points out. “You know who he is. Maybe Mia didn’t, but you did. If he couldn’t have tricked her into docility, he would have hurt her. The end result would have been the same.”

“Stay out of this,” Vince says lowly.

Nodding once, Adrian eyes up Vince’s hands on me. “Why don’t you let go of her and I will.”

“This isn’t your fvcking business,” he states, eyes narrowing.

“I’m okay,” I tell Adrian, nodding. “Really. I understand why he’s…angry.”

“Don’t sink to his level,” Adrian says to Vince.

At that Vince laughs. He drops my arms and takes a step back, spinning around a little wildly. “Maybe I’m just fighting the inevitable, Adrian. Ever think of that? They’re all like this. Every fvcking one of them. And you know what, shit like this doesn’t happen to them. They do shit like this, but it’s never done to them.” Spinning back around to me, he glares with such anger, such hatred, that it nearly knocks the breath right out of me. “How am I supposed to look at you now, Mia?”

Lip trembling, I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

“How many times did you fbck him?”

“Never,” I say. “I never—”

“Just…” He holds a hand up, stopping me. “Once? Twice? More?”

I bow my head, wishing I could disappear. I refuse to answer, I don’t care how many times he asks. Instead I repeat, “I’m sorry. I wish I would’ve listened to you. Trust me, I can’t feel worse than I already do. Nothing you say to me could make this worse—he’s humiliated me enough for both of you.”

He’s still shaking his head, still practically shaking with fury, but his voice is low and unsteady when he says, “I loved you.”

I was wrong.

There was something he could say to make it hurt worse.

A sob bursts out of me, followed by a cluster of hitching breaths, and I sink to the floor, overcome with a feeling of immense loss. Whatever we could have been, whatever we could have had, it was gone. He didn’t want me anymore.

Pushing out an unsteady breath, Vince clears his throat. I look up through my tears, seeing his eyes look a little red, too.

Shaking his head one last time, he turns around and disappears down the hall the way he came.



---



The rest of the day melts away.

With nowhere else to go, Adrian takes me back to Mateo’s room. I would be cynically amused at having to return to the bed where I was raped, but that would require feeling something, and I’m dead empty at this point.

I don’t even flinch when Mateo comes into the room at the end of the day, flicking a glance at me before beginning to UnCloth for the night.

I’m unresponsive when he climbs into bed with me, reminding me of those stupid fvcking nights he came to Vince’s room.

“That was a long day, wasn’t it?” he murmurs.

His arm curls around me, like we’re lovers. I don’t attempt to move it, not even when he begins touching me, palming my breasts through my clothing, slipping the button of my jeans through the hole and tugging them down.

I don’t fight when he takes them off, or when he climbs between my legs. I don’t even respond when he enters me dry, painfully, forcing his way even more than he had to this morning, when there was at least some lubrication.

I don’t cry when he comes inside me again.

I don’t object when he gets back into bed afterward and pulls me against him, like we’re fvcking snuggling.

I don’t care.

What’s the point?

“Have I broken you already?” he asks lowly, sounding almost disappointed. Not at having possibly damaged me, but that his fun is over, I think.

I don’t know the answer to that question, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t dignify it with a response.



---



He takes my body again the following morning before he gets up and goes to shower. I wonder numbly what Vince would think of how quickly the number is climbing, but thinking Vince’s name pierces the veil of numbness and causes pain, so I stop.

Once Mateo leaves, the door opens and Adrian steps inside. “Are you okay?”

I offer a weak nod.

“Do you want some breakfast? Do you need…anything?”

I shake my head again, but then I pause. “Actually, yes. Get me Elise.”

Surprise flashes across his features briefly, his gaze moving from me to the bed, then back. “Elise?”

I nod.

“Okay,” he finally says, backing out of the room.

It takes a little while, but eventually there’s a light knock at the door and Elise’s blonde head pops in. “Hello,” she greets, smiling until she sees me. “Oh, Mia. Hi.”

“Hi.”

Her gaze rakes over me, over the bed, confused. I guess her confusion at my being in Mateo’s bed indicates everyone doesn’t know, but it’s hard to feel any relief. They will soon enough.

“What can I do for you?” she asks, a little haltingly.

I sit up, wrapping the top bed sheet around my body and dragging the comforter onto the floor as I push up off the bed. Elise gasps at the streaks of blood on the sheets, her cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, dear. Do you need me to get you something for your monthly?”

“That’s not from my monthly,” I say simply.

She stares at the sheets for a moment, then at me, at my bedraggled, dead-eyed appearance. Dread clouds over her clear blue eyes, but I don’t torture her further.

“I need to get in the shower. Could you please see that they’ve been changed before I get out?”

Nodding with her eyes locked on the bed, she murmurs, “Of course.”

Chapter Twenty Three



I feel nothing as Mateo takes me into his bedroom. I try to break away, I use my body weight, but he’s too strong and I’m too depleted. When he throws me down on his bed, I try to crawl away, but he’s on me too fast, slamming my arms down against the soft pillow top and straddling my body. His eyes gleam like a lion about to consume a gazelle, like he’s won. I wonder if it’s a relief not to have to pretend to be nice anymore.

“Get off me,” I cry, angrily throwing my useless body.

“Oh, no. This is the fun part,” he tells me, leaning in to kiss my neck. “Do you know how hard it was not to speak when I fulvcked you, Mia? It was torture.”

“Stop saying that—it wasn’t sex.”

Rolling his eyes, he says, “Fine, when I raped you. Is that better? Do you like that word? Does it turn you on?”

“You’re sick,” I hiss, glaring up at him.

“Well, if you like that word, you’re going to love what happens next. What we did before, whatever you want to call it, that was sex. You wanted it. Now? Now I’m going to take your sweet little pussy while you beg me not to. Now I’ll give you rape.”

It’s not fair that he’s cheating me out of the anger I have every right to feel, but speaking so plainly about his intentions, he’s pushing me over into fear.

Even though it kills me to ask him for anything, especially something I should never have to ask for, I say, “Please don’t.”

“It can be a game,” he tells me, taunting. “You can pretend you have a choice, if it makes you feel better. Would you like a safe word?”

It’s obviously a trick, so I don’t speak.

“Go ahead, pick one,” he says, leaning down on my arms with more force as he kisses my neck again.

I hate this game and I don’t want to play, but I throw out, “Red light.”

“Okay, your safe word is red light.”

“Red light,” I say, immediately.

His hands shift again, holding my arms with just the one, and the second snakes up under my shirt. He lifts my bra, shoving his hand inside and squeezing my breast, ignoring my utterance completely.

“That was fun, wasn’t it? We should do that again sometime,” he states, his hand moving around to the clasp of my bra.

“Mateo, please,” I say uselessly, as he gets it unclasped. “Please.”

Squeezing my nipple until it hurts, he says, “Beg all you want; I like it.”

Eventually, he has to let go of my arms to get my jeans off, so I wait until he does to attack. Throwing myself at him with everything I’ve got, I growl, I scratch, I hit—and I end up wrapped in his arms, wrestled until I’m belly-down on the bed, my jeans around my knees.

Growling at the injustice of my defeat, I try again, rearing back against him, attempting to curl into a position where, even if he can get my clothes off, he won’t be able to rape me. Not easily, at least.

Finally seeming agitated, he gives me one more violent toss to the bed and sits up on his knees. I scurry, about to climb off, when I hear the metallic click.

One foot touches the floor, the other leg still bearing the brunt of my weight on the bed, and I come face to face with Mateo’s gun—again.

“Let’s try this a different way,” he says, finger on the trigger.

I’m not terribly confident, but I say shakily, “You’re not going to shoot me. I could be…” I pause, the words too horrible to come out.

“Eight hours pregnant?” he questions. “Become a big enough pain in my ass and I think I’ll survive without ever knowing.”

I won’t accept defeat—I won’t. That’s not what this feeling of a thousand bricks resting atop my lungs is—it’s not defeat. It’s not.

But I don’t move the rest of the way off the bed. I’m too afraid.

Using the gun to gesture, he says, “Back on the bed.”

I swallow, slowly easing back onto the bed, my eyes glued to the barrel of the gun. “You wanna hear something stupid?” I ask him, shakily, as I sit down.

“Sure,” he says.

“After we talked in the library that night….” I shake my head, seeing now how foolish I must have looked to him. “I thought you never would have done it. I thought you never would have actually shot me before, in your study. I thought it was…”

“A front?” he finishes, almost sympathetic.

I nod, choking on the acidic taste of my own foolishness.

“Sadly, no. I don’t make threats I’m not prepared to follow through with.” Nodding toward my lower half, he says, “Take off your panties.”

Lips turned down in a helpless pout, I steel myself, pushing down my panties.

Trying one more time, I say, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I’ve already been inside you, Mia. It doesn’t have to be so dramatic.”

Bastard.

Swallowing convulsively, I will away the nausea gripping me, threatening to make me sick. Mateo moves over me, the gun falling to the side for a moment. With his free hand, he jerks my chin until I’m looking into his eyes, then he leans down and kisses me.

I try to turn my face away, refusing to take part in this. When he gets nothing back, he lets the gun trail up my arm, bringing the barrel to a hard rest at my neck, just below my ear. A fearful sob escapes me but I open my mouth, letting him have access.

“Kiss me,” he growls, before his tongue pushes into my mouth, catching mine and overpowering it, just like he’s overpowering the rest of me. The gun is still pressed firmly against me, digging into my skin uncomfortably, so I do. I kiss the bastard back, just like he demanded.

The worst of it is, my blood races, my heart pounds, and even though I tell myself there’s only fear here, I feel a sudden tingle between my legs that fills me to the brim with self-loathing.

Willing it away, I remind myself he’s a monster. He tricked me and now he’s forcing himself on me—he’s threatening my life, for fvck’s sake.

Withdrawing from my mouth, he leans back. He holds my gaze as he unbuttons and unzips his black slacks, and I feel a throb of fear and arousal confused and mashed together. Befuddlement and resistance sweep through me, but there’s no time—free of his pants, he’s now running his hands over my legs, up over my knees and trailing up my thighs.

“Do you remember how it felt when I was eating your pvssy, Mia? When you were clutching the bed sheets, crying out in pleasure, writhing as I fvcked you with nothing more than my mouth?”

Another awful throb of arousal. “Stop talking like that,” I say.

“Why?” he asks, smiling as he enters me with a single finger. “Because you like it?”

I do my best to hold my body still while he touches me, first with one finger, then with two. I close my eyes, afraid of what he’ll see if he looks into them, knowing he will taunt me if he sees anything but loathing, and I can’t take that. Not when I’m feeling so uncertain about it myself.

Maybe I’m sick.

He brings the gun up my bare torso, and in a sickening twist, I feel relieved. Relieved at the reminder that I have no choice, that this terrible, terrible man is going to do what he wants to me no matter what I say, and that my body is just… experiencing physiological confusion. He has turned me on before, he has brought me to orgasm before, and he has been inside me, pounding into me until I cried out — even though I didn’t know it was him, it still happened. My body still knows he’s capable of bringing me physical pleasure.

I open my eyes and see him watching me. He withdraws his fingers from my body, bringing the gun down slowly, trailing lightly down my abdomen, and along the inside of my thigh. I hold my body still as goose bumps rise up, but I can’t keep from gasping when I feel the cool tip of the gun being pushed inside me.

“Mateo,” I say, gasping. Fear floods me, trying to remember if it’s still cocked. What if he accidentally fires it? “Please…”

“Mm, ask again.”

I hate that he’s enjoying this, but I can hardly breathe with the barrel of his gun pressing against my clit.

“Please. Please, Mateo. Please.”

Instead of removing it, he moves it in and out, in and out, mocking me.

“Please,” I say again, my breath hitching. “You’re scaring me.”

The gun is finally pulled out of me, and better, he deposits it on his night stand. I can’t help staring as he sets it down, wondering if I could get to it….

“Don’t even think about it,” he says coldly.

My gaze jerks to his.

“You’ll miss, for one thing. You don’t know how to fire a gun, and you damn sure won’t be able to fire it when I’m wresting it away from you. And when you miss, or even if your finger never makes it to the trigger, I will finish raping you, and then I’ll kill you and your entire family. Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

I think he’s probably right, but I sure would like to try.

I’m not fighting now like I was when he first got me in his bed, but he still pins my arms over my head before climbing between my legs. I think he just likes it.

“If you stop now… we can pretend this didn’t happen,” I say, even knowing it’s useless. There’s no consequence for him. He isn’t afraid to do this to me—he knows he’ll be fine.

Smiling, he drops a little kiss on my lips, as if I’ve amused him.

Then he thrusts his hips forward and his cock moves into my unwilling body, sealing the deal.

Caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob, I try to rear up, forgetting I’m pinned. Uselessly I plead, “Stop!”

But he doesn’t.

I watch him close his eyes, experiencing pleasure as he moves, thrusting deep inside my body, then pulling back, thrusting deep, then pulling back. It doesn’t hurt like I expect it to—there’s a fair amount of discomfort as he stretches me, but not outright pain. I give up fighting altogether. I turn my head to the side so I don’t have to watch, but I can feel him everywhere—his breath when he leans in to kiss my neck, his cock battering its way inside me, his hands, still nailing me to the bed. The weight on my arms hurts more than the actual act, but I don’t bother complaining.

He finally releases my arms, hiking my legs up and fucking me from a different angle. The friction starts to feel less awful and I close my eyes, praying he’ll finish before he notices my body reacting to him.

Remembering what started this whole mess, I do murmur, “Please don’t finish inside me.”

Then, out of spite, I guess, he groans against my mouth as he buries himself deep, coming as deep inside me as he possibly can.

He remains inside me afterward, but he’s spent, so he relaxes against me. I lay motionless, blessedly empty on an emotional level, but so aware of him still filling me physically.

It takes two to tango, I remember saying.

But Cherie was right.

It doesn’t.

Chapter Twenty Two



I’m sick with worry the next morning—over all my own shit, and the fact that from what I can tell, Vince never came back to bed last night.

I don’t know where his head’s at, but it can’t be good. I do what I can to check my cycle, seeing if there’s any chance I could’ve even been ovulating, but I forgot to mark my last period and I can’t remember when it was looking at a calendar. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about from one slip-up, but I would feel better if I could offer him something solid.

“You look pensive,” Mateo remarks.

I glance up at him, biting my bottom lip uncertainly. I suppose I could ask him for help. He’s the head of the family, after all.

“Kinda. Um, do you guys have, like… a family doctor, or…?”

Smirking at me, he asks, “A mob doctor?”

“No, just… I mean, maybe, if they can get the same stuff.”

“What is it you need?”

Squirming, I say, “I would rather tell a girl. I can go to my mom, but it’ll take longer and we don’t have good insurance—I don’t know.”

Frowning slightly, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I just… I need—God, I don’t want to ask you. Please don’t make me ask you. Is Francesca here? Cherie? Literally anyone with a vagina?”

“I’ve seen my fair share of them, if that helps.”

Grimacing, I say, “Ah, gross! It doesn’t. No. God.”

“We’re all adults here,” he states, firmly.

Well, not all of us, but I don’t argue. “I need birth control. And possibly the morning after pill.”

Dead silence.

My face might combust in actual flames, and I can’t look at him. Why, oh why, oh why did I start this conversation with him? I mean, I don’t really have anyone else to ask… Lena could probably get me the morning after pill, but we haven’t really been talking and that would be a humiliating way to suddenly start talking to her again.

After a moment, picking up his paper, he says simply, “No.”

Swallowing down the feeling of hollowness, I say, “No, you don’t have someone who can help me with that?”

“No, you may not have birth control or the morning after pill,” he amends.

Eyes widening, I ask, “Why?”

Opening his paper, he meets my gaze and says without apology, “Because I said so.”

I sit there for a moment, horrified, waiting for him to be joking, but apparently he isn’t. I don’t know how to respond to that. I don’t understand why he would deny me something so basic—at least the birth control part. Given their heritage, they may be lazy Catholics—I know they murder and don’t go to church, but maybe they still cherry pick the traditions they want to keep. Vince did mention all Morelli women tend to have lots of babies, but… I didn’t realize that was because they had no choice.

Jesus Christ.

Well, I’ll have to double down on my fervent hopes that the broken condom incident didn’t ruin my life, because apparently if I’m pregnant, Vince is just going to hate me forever.

Oh, and that’s before he even finds out about my being in the study.

Great.

Just fvcking fabulous.

Without another word, and certainly without the usual goodbye and have a good day niceties, I get up from the table and leave.

I make it outside before I realize I have no ride.

I won’t go back in though. I’m calculating how long it would take me to walk and how late I’ll be when I spot Adrian in the driveway.

“Hey,” I call out, impulsively.

He turns to me, but doesn’t speak.

“Could you give me a ride to school?”

“Have you talked to Vince?” he calls back.

I shake my head, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “No, not since last night.”

Adrian nods, glancing toward the road, then back at me. “He’s still at Joey’s. I don’t think he’s going. Why don’t you stay home today, Mia.”

I frown, shaking my head as I walk over to him. “I have a quiz—wait. What do you mean, he’s still at Joey’s? He came home last night.”

Adrian’s lips press together into a firm line, but his face doesn’t betray his thoughts. “No, he didn’t.”

“Yes, he did,” I reply, eyebrows rising.

Adrian takes a step closer, getting right in my face. “No. He didn’t.”

I’m frozen again, unable to move. Even in the terrifying moments after meeting Mateo, when he had me on the ground in front of him with a gun pressed to my forehead, I’ve never experienced time standing still until right this moment. My life could have ended then, and still seconds ticked by, then minutes, then hours.

But now, the world no longer spins.

My brain has shut down. Information is flying in, confusing information, nothing I can make sense of. Nothing.

Until one certainty cements itself.

If Vince never came home last night, I couldn’t have had sex with him.

But I had sex with somebody.

I feel at once like I weigh 1,000 pounds and like I’m weightless, falling through time and space, waiting to crash into solid ground.

My knees turn to jelly, but I somehow stay upright. Everything trembles—or it feels like it does. I can’t tell, I can’t feel physical things right now—not the wind whipping my face, not Adrian’s hand on my arm. I think I could take Mateo’s sister’s throwing star and gouge myself in the chest with it right now, and I wouldn’t feel a thing.

Gasping, coming back to life, I turn on my heel and head back into the house. I don’t run. I walk, slowly, impressed with my ability even to do that.

I go back to the dining room, but by the time I get there, he’s gone. I know he isn’t in his study, because I would’ve seen him.

Elise stands at the table, cleaning up the mess I left, and Mateo’s coffee cup.

“Where is he?” I hear myself ask her.

Elise spins around, surprised to see me. “Who, Vince?”

“Mateo.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He was here a few minutes ago, you just missed him.”

For the first time, the enormity of this goddamn house is a hindrance. My blood is pumping through my veins with such violence I can hear my heart beating in my whole body. I don’t know how long the adrenaline will keep me up. But I want to find him and scratch his fvcking face off before I crash.

After he fvcking admits what he did. I want to hear that, first.

I have no idea where to look, though. I don’t want to go to his bedroom, and I don’t know why he would go back there anyway; he was already up for the day and dressed in his perfect goddamn suit and tie.

Maria is the next person I see, and I stop her. “Do you know where Mateo is?”

I’ve rarely interacted with her outside of the kitchen, but Maria studies my face, then advises, “Why don’t you go to your room for a bit, have a rest.”

“Do you know where Mateo is?”

“You seem angry. Best to go to your room.”

“Oh, my God,” I say, giving up and walking away from her.

After storming through half the house, I come to the largest wing—the master suite. I stand at the center of three separate halls, all leading to rooms of his.

Common sense leaps out at me, telling me to turn back. He’s not up here, and even if he is… I don’t want to go in.

But I’m too fvcking angry to listen.

I want to set him on fire.

I need to know he did it. It had to be him, but I need to know.

This wasn’t part of Vince’s tour though, so I don’t even know which hall to walk down. One is the bedroom, one is probably a sitting room… maybe the third is an enormous bathroom? I don’t know.

I go left.

It’s a sitting room, and there’s no one inside. My heart beats faster—I’m not sure if with relief at not finding him, or if it’s because one door down means only two to go.

I go with the middle door next, since I approach it first.

It’s a bedroom, but clearly not used, and possibly for children? There are a few boxes scattered around, one of them with a pink sparkly sweater on top.

Frowning, I back out of that one.

I’m just about to try the third door when I feel him. Not physically, not touching me, but he’s near enough I can feel his presence.

Then he speaks, his voice husky with expectation. “Looking for me?”

Suddenly my body trembles and I feel it all down my spine. My stomach pitches as I slowly turn around and see him standing there at the opening of the hall, where I was just a couple of minutes ago.

My words suddenly dry up and to my absolute horror, tears well in my eyes.

Mateo walks toward me, a predatory glint in his eyes.

I’m supposed to be the one confronting him, but it suddenly hits me as he moves closer, faster, not apologetic, not retreating, not remorseful, but… stalking me.

I chased my rapist to his bedroom.

Launching away from the wall, I go to move past him but he catches me by the arm, his grip rough, not light like it normally is.

“Get your hands off me,” I say, my voice shaking through every syllable.

“Oh, but you like my hands on you,” he says, a wicked smile grazing his lips.

“No, I don’t,” I say, feeling as if he just slapped me.

“Sure you do,” he says, using his body to move me backward. “You liked my hands when they were playing your pvssy like a fiddle, making you scream with pleasure. You liked my mouth, when I was devouring you like my favorite dessert. You certainly seemed to enjoy my cock, when I was fvcking you in Vince’s bed.”

A noiseless sob escapes me as my back hits the wall, and he presses his body against mine.

“You like me a lot more than you let on, don’t you, Mia?”

I struggle to get my arm away from him, but he’s holding it too tight. I raise my other hand to hit him, but his reflexes are too fast and he catches me, pushing both arms over my head and pinning me against the wall.

I can only shake my head, trying for words that won’t come, gasping for breath when my chest feels like it’s about to cave in.

He doesn’t even have the decency to be ashamed. He looks straight into my eyes with no trouble—and they’re dancing with something. Amusement?

“You’re a monster,” I whisper.

He tilts his head as if considering it, then shrugs.

My words are finally coming back. “You raped me.”

“You were pretty willing,” he tells me.

“I thought you were someone else!”

“Yeah.” Making a face that would seem to indicate ‘this is awkward’ he inhales through his teeth. “I probably wouldn’t go with that. I feel like Vince wouldn’t be terribly pleased that you couldn’t tell when you were having sex with him, and when you were having sex with me.”

“I didn’t have sex with you,” I say, jerking my arms, rabid at his wording. “That wasn’t sex. You manipulated me. You tricked me. You snuck into my boyfriend’s bed in the dead of night when I was asleep, for fvck’s sake. Why would I think it was anyone but him?”

“Well, he did warn you,” Mateo points out.

It’s like another slap to the face, and I physically rear back from the force of it.

“And… Cherie. And… well, everybody, isn’t that right?”

He lets that land, giving me enough time to fully process the truth of that statement. To relive myself fighting with Vince, telling him how sick I was of being warned about Mateo. Telling him he was being paranoid.

“Even I told you I wasn’t a good guy,” he adds, that time looking a little apologetic. “I mean, you just didn’t want to believe any of it. I have this nice house, I bought you pretty dresses and fvcking stories about how good triumphs over evil—it doesn’t, I could’ve told you that, but… you were warned, Mia. And still here you stand, a few feet from my bedroom.”

I feel like the biggest fool in the whole entire world. Humiliation swallows me whole as I recall feeling sympathetic toward him, feeling sad because he seemed to lead an ultimately lonely existence.

But he deserves to be lonely. He deserves to have no one.

And me, maybe I fvcking deserved this, because he’s right, every single person who knows him tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen.

With no pride left, I break down in tears, right there in front of him. Between sobs, I ask, “Why? I was nice to you.”

Sighing heavily, he says, “You’re right, you were. It’s not your fault. You just saw something you shouldn’t have. It was just rotten luck, and I’m truly sorry for it. I don’t know if I admire or pity your ability to see good in people where none actually exists, but I don’t want to snuff that out of you. I didn’t even want to know you—really, this is Vince’s fault. I could’ve finished it quick, it would’ve been painless, we could have all moved on with our lives.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” I remind him, even while realizing how foolish it is to remind him of anything he said like it holds any weight.

“I said as long as Vince wanted you,” he responds, correcting me. “If he doesn’t anymore… well, your fate’s left to me then, isn’t it?”

It’s profoundly embarrassing to have been this wrong about someone, but it’s worse that Vince was so right, and I’ve been so goddamn sure of myself.

“You planned to kill me all along, didn’t you? This was just a game to you.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” he replies. “Not yet, even if Vince comes home today wanting to kill you himself.”

“Why would he…?”

“He knows. A little birdie told him some things, so… well, that’s not going to be a fun time for you.”

I can’t stand up anymore. My legs wobble and I try to sink down the wall, but he’s still holding my arms, so I can’t.

“Why don’t you just do it now and get it over with,” I whisper, tears flowing freely down my face now.

He rearranges his grip on me, pinning my arms at the wrist to free up a hand. Then he runs it along my jawline in a gesture that would be tender, except it’s coming from him. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

I can only stare at him, empty, broken, alone.

Then he adds, “Not to mention, you could be carrying my child.”

Chapter Twenty One



“What are you thinking about?”

I lift my head, pushing down the pillow as I roll over on my side to get a better look at my beautiful boyfriend. We’ve been cuddling for the better part of an hour, still naked from an impulsive after-school quickie.

Right now, he’s lying next to me, arms crossed behind him under his head, staring up at the ceiling. “Lots of things,” he tells me.

“Like? Share some of the things,” I say, gently prodding him in the side with my index finger.

“Like… I hope you’re happy with me.”

Melting a bit, I give him a little hug. “I’m very happy with you.”

“I don’t mean just now,” he says, pensive. “We didn’t get a chance to cover a lot of things that normal people should talk about before they get serious.”

“Well, let’s talk about them now.”

“I don’t want kids,” he states, readily enough that I think that might’ve been on his mind already.

I frown a little, since I never imagined not having kids. “Well, we always use protection; I don’t think we have to worry about that right now.”

“No, I mean… ever. I never want kids.”

“Never?”

He meets my gaze, shaking his head no.

“You’ve thought about this,” I realize.

“A lot. It’s not fair to bring kids into this family. Boys, girls—they’re fvcked either way. I don’t want to do it.”

“Well… I mean, they’d be our kids. We would decide how to raise them…”

He’s already shaking his head. His gaze returns to the ceiling. “No, that’s not how it works.”

“Well, what about—Cherie was saying how a lot of your family’s business interests are legitimate now. By the time we would even have kids, by the time they would be old enough for this to be an issue, maybe your family would have withdrawn from the whole crime scene. Things could change.”

But Vince shakes his head. “We’re not moving in that direction. The opposite, actually. The other big family in Chicago has played nice with us, but they’re starting to get greedy. Things are going to get worse. Mateo’s considering eliminating them, and then our territory will actually expand. If anything, they’d want me to breed more goddamn pawns for the next generation.”

I stare at his profile, surprised by his calm as he talks about what sounds to my ears like a mob war. “That sounds… really dangerous.”

“Will be.”

Swallowing, I ask, “What’s your role in all that? Will you be in danger?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Most likely.”

Curling up close to him, I say, “Well, I don’t like that at all.”

“Neither do I. Me and Joey… we’re thinking about trying something on our own, but… I don’t know. Mateo wouldn’t allow that, and if we tried to keep it from him, he’d probably find out. I don’t think I’ll survive keeping another secret from him.”

“Then don’t do it,” I say immediately.

“I want something of my own, something to… get me out from under his thumb.”

“It doesn’t sound like that’s what this is. It sounds… suicidal.”

Vince sighs heavily. “All-knowing fvcking Mateo Morelli.”

It also reminds me of what Mateo had talked about with me that night in the library, how every time he trusts someone, they make him regret it.

“Promise me you won’t do whatever you were thinking of doing,” I tell him. “It’s a bad idea. I get why you’re tempted, but I don’t think it’s worth it, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

I rest my head on his chest, but all of a sudden, all I can think about is… what would happen to me if something did happen to Vince?



---



This time when Vince says he’s going to Joey’s, it makes me nervous. Knowing that Joey’s trying to convince him to do some stupid fucking thing behind Mateo’s back, I’m losing my enthusiasm about him. If he wants to get himself killed, that’s his problem, but I don’t want him dragging Vince into it.

Kissing me goodbye at the front door, he promises me, “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

I want to tell him again not to do it, but Mateo’s study is open and I don’t know if he’s inside. It’s far enough away that it’s unlikely he would hear me, but one never knows.

Once Vince is gone, as I’m about to walk past his office, Mateo calls out, “Mia.”

I brace a hand on the door frame, leaning inside. “Yes?”

Indicating a rectangular box in the corner, he tells me, “Your books came.”

“Ooh,” I said, rubbing my hands together in anticipation as I step inside. “Mind if I dig in?”

“Be my guest.”

I kneel down in the floor by his desk and attempt to get all the tape off, but I end up needing scissors. Once inside, I pull them all out, flipping through them one by one, fanning out the colorful pages.

“New books are so exciting,” I tell him, sighing happily.

For nearly an hour, I stay in Mateo’s study, flipping through books, reading when I get sucked into a panel, and telling him about each one. I’m sure he doesn’t care, but to his credit, he lets me yammer on anyway.

Adrian comes in while I’m still there. Understandably confused to find me in Mateo’s floor, surrounded by graphic novels, he stares at me for a moment before asking with a confused frown, “Should I come back?”

“No,” Mateo says, looking up from whatever he’s writing. “What is it?”

He glances at me again, then says, “I should probably come back.”

“It’s fine,” Mateo says again.

“But…” Adrian indicates me in the floor, like Mateo may have forgotten.

Mateo merely nods.

Still Adrian hesitates, but ultimately he says, “There’s a shipment coming in this weekend. I have dates and times I was going to share with you. A location. Sensitive information.”

Unmoved, Mateo steeples his hands on the desk and meets Adrian’s gaze. “So share them.”

More stunned than Adrian, I can only sit there frozen in shock, staring at the same page of the graphic novel in my lap, terrified to move, to breathe, to do anything that might remind Mateo of my presence. There’s no way he forgot I’m sitting here, right? It would be impossible. I haven’t shut up since I peeked my head in the door.

Of course, nothing Adrian says matters to me, but I feel like it matters that Mateo’s letting him say it in front of me. I feel… well, epically flattered, until I think about it a little longer. What if, somehow, this information leaked? Through some channel that obviously isn’t me, but Mateo’s mind would go straight to me in the floor of his office when Adrian spilled all the details. As mistrustful as he is, and with his record of having been screwed over before, I really don’t want the responsibility of knowing this kind of information.

Suddenly it hits me—is this the kind of pressure that weighs on Vince every day? Knowing these things and knowing what a mistrustful person Mateo is, is actually really terrifying.

It also occurs to me that since Adrian told on me to Vince for having the audacity to wear a bikini to the pool and be spotted by Mateo wearing it, he’s probably going to run and tell Vince that Mateo did this, too.

My stomach is in knots when Adrian finally leaves the room. I think I’m going to throw up, but I don’t know how to leave the room after that without seeming really suspicious.

Mateo glances over at me, but he doesn’t say a word before returning to his work.

I force myself to flip through the books for a few minutes, but there’s no more joy in the task. I’m a ball of anxiety, and I don’t know what to do about it. I guess I could tell Vince myself? Then if Adrian tries to tell on me, he’ll already know.

Of course, I’m not sure that would be sufficient. If he was convinced something was going on because Mateo made me serve him dinner, even I won’t be able to blame him for thinking something must be going on for Suspicion Incarnate to share with me sensitive information that could legitimately put them all behind bars if I told.

Mateo was only trying to extend a gesture of trust, and now he’s completely screwed me.

“Why does Adrian hate you?” I suddenly ask.

Mateo glances over at me, but returns his attention to some paper he’s filling out before answering. “He’s in love with Elise.”

Well, okay, that makes sense. “Why would that make him hate you?”

Smiling slightly, he says, “Elise is in love with me.”

My stomach sinks, and I’m not sure for whom. “You and Elise are…?”

“Nope. Girlhood crush she hasn’t outgrown yet, I think.” Then, with a little smile, he informs me, “I’m quite irresistible, you know.”

I crack a smile, but roll my eyes at him. “You’re something.”



---



After agonizing all evening about what to tell Vince, I give up waiting for him. It being a school night, I doubt he’ll wake me up once he gets home, so I’ll have to talk to him in the morning on the way to school. If I talk to him. I still haven’t figured my way out of this mess.

Turns out he does wake me when he gets home though. I’m dead asleep, drooling on my pillow, and all of a sudden I wake up to his hands roaming all over me.

I’m a little relieved, figuring if he still wants to fvck me, Adrian probably hasn’t ratted me out yet.

And fvck me, he does. I get another earth-shattering, building from the deepest part of me orgasm that knocks me out of my senses for several minutes, but then I feel more wetness between my legs than I expect to. A lot more. I’m tummy down on the bed after doggie style, Vince’s arm thrown across my back as he catches his breath. Reaching down between my legs, I realize something’s wrong.

“Vince… can you check the condom?” Patting the sheets, also wet and sticky, I start to lose my cool a little. “Oh my God, I think the condom broke.”

Before he can check, I launch out of bed and dart into the bathroom. I’ve already been lying there for several minutes, but I jump in the shower anyway, desperately scrubbing between my legs.

This can’t be happening. He literally just told me how much he didn’t want kids, and now the condom breaks. He’s going to be paranoid about having sex now.

I need to get on the pill.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Vince and the soiled bedding are gone. The bed has been made up to perfection, indicating one of the maids has been here. That’s kind of embarrassing, since they can probably guess why we needed a change of sheets in the middle of the night, but that’s literally the least of my worries right now.

Climbing into bed alone, I sigh and pull the covers up to my neck. I’m still a little tired, but now the adrenaline has me wide awake. I guess when Vince comes back, I could talk to him, but somehow nothing seems sufficient. “Hey, so, I know you don’t want kids and we just had our first broken condom incident, but I also wanted to tell you that your mistrustful cousin, the one you’ve been worried wants to get in my pants? He’s now comfortable talking about top secret criminal activity shit in front of me for some crazy reason! So… that was my day. How was Joey’s?”

Yeah, no.

Chapter Twenty



After I left the library, I retired to my room for the night to wait for Vince. My pleasant exchange with Mateo got me thinking, and I realized I need to be kinder to Vince. Maybe he is being paranoid and crazy, but fighting will make that worse, not better. Regardless, Mateo isn’t an actual threat outside of Vince’s mind, and I don’t want to harm our relationship by letting things get out of hand.

I sent him a text to ask him when he was coming home, but he didn’t answer me. Before I got in the shower, I sent him one more text, telling him I was sorry for snapping and that I didn’t want to fight with him.

The shower I took was too hot, but it felt so good to stand under the hot spray, I lost all track of time.

Tucking the edge of the towel into the front near my breasts, I step out of the bathroom. The coolness of the bedroom by comparison feels nice.

Approaching the desk, I check my phone to see if he’s responded. Nothing. I was in the shower forever, so he had to have read the message by now.

I sigh and flip open my history book. I probably could study tonight and get it out of the way, but right now I'm too tired. I decide to lie down in bed for a few minutes first and just rest my eyes.

Only I fall asleep. I don't realize it until the bed dips beside me, Vince crawling in and wrapping an arm around me in the dark. I stir, but I'm not ready to wake up. I'm relieved he's home safe. I know he had been drinking at dinner, and I wasn’t sure if he was driving to Joey’s or not. I would’ve asked, but he slammed the door in my face.

"Hey, you," I murmur, reaching back to caress whatever my hand lands on. It's his hip, and he's still wearing dress pants, not pajamas.

His arm snakes around my waist, finding the edge of the towel and tugging.

Without opening my eyes, I smile. I don’t have the physical stamina to have sex right now, but that he wants to makes me think he doesn’t want to fight anymore either. "I'm really sleepy. Can I get a rain check?”

His hand touches my bare stomach, then skates down between my legs.

Despite my meager objection, I let my legs fall open for him. Arousal stirs at his touch, and I guess it won’t kill me to wait 20 more minutes for sleep.

My head falls back as his fingers move inside me, first just one, but he promptly pushes a second inside. His thumb massages my clit as the other two explore, but to my disappointment, he stops after only a few seconds.

"Tease," I murmur, when he withdraws.

He chuckles quietly. Then his hands are on my hips and he's guiding me to roll over on my stomach. I do, not totally sure where we're going with this, but then he does the most amazing thing—he starts rubbing my back. If this is how he’s going to make up after fights, I think they might be easier to get through in the future. Everything tingles as his strong hands work my muscles, and while I feel positively blissful, there's a good chance he's going to put me back to sleep.

Until he stops, nudging my legs apart. His hand passes over my bare ass and I feel the bed shift as he changes positions. I push up to my hands and knees, assuming he's going to enter me doggie style, but he doesn't unbutton or unzip. Instead he invades me with two fingers again and begins pumping. This feels different, he's not just toying with my clit, but plunging deeper, quicker.

"Oh God, that feels good," I tell him, shifting my ass.

His free hand moves from my hip to my ass, and he gives it a light smack, startling me, but also exciting me. Anchoring his hand on my hip, his thrusts pick up even more speed, and I feel the telltale build of an orgasm. When it hits, it's like no orgasm I've had before. I cry out far too loudly, trembling as my orgasm shudders through me.

I feel like a limp spaghetti noodle as I fall down on my stomach, panting. "Holy shit."

Then the kisses start. He kisses a trail down my spine, straddling the backs of my thighs. I've never been so satisfied in my life, but I won’t object to more kisses. He can do just about whatever he wants to my body right now, I won't mind.

He moves off me and I hear the covers rustling as he pulls them up. I don't know what he's doing until he rolls me over onto my back again. He's under the covers. Before I can object, he starts dropping kisses along my inner thigh.

Oh, God.

"Vince, I can't," I say, laughing lightly. "There's no way."

But then his hot breath hits me, his fingers spreading me open, and his tongue delves into me.

I was wrong, I realize, as a breath rushes out of me. I'm so wet that it's embarrassing, but he's positively devouring me, and the arousal I thought was exhausted is roaring back to life.

He pulls his tongue back out, wringing a tortured cry from me, and runs his mouth over me, nibbling on me with his lips.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, digging my hands into the soft black sheets. "Don't stop, please."

He obliges, tonguing my clit until I think I'm going to die from the building pressure. My whole body tenses as I approach another climax, terrified he'll stop or move or breathe differently—anything that might interrupt me. "Yes, yes, don't stop. Oh, God."

Pleasure explodes within me for a second time. Actually, pleasure is too slight a word for the incapacitating satisfaction that claims me as I arch up, then fall against the bed.

Now I really can't move. Holy shit.

"That was incredible," I say slowly. "Holy fvck."

His laughter rumbles against my belly and I reach down, tenderly threading his hair through my fingers. "You're amazing. Thank you."

He lays his head down on my belly and I continue to absently play with his hair. I know I should return the favor, but moving my body is a legitimate impossibility at the moment. I vow to myself I will do it tomorrow. Right now, all I want to do is bask in the afterglow of that awesome pair of orgasms and run my fingers through Vince's hair.



---



Ordinarily Monday mornings aren’t my favorite, what with the early rising after a weekend of sleeping in, but as I make my way downstairs for breakfast, I’m feeling pretty damn good.

Vince was up before me and already out of the room by the time I got up to shower, but I smile, seeing him with Mateo at the breakfast table.

Wrapping my arms around his neck from behind, I lean down to give him a good morning kiss. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he returns, sounding mildly surprised to see me. “Sleep good?”

“Oh yes.” I give him another kiss for good measure, lips lingering, before I finally stand back.

Mateo glances up at me, and I want to be friendly and say hi, but I also don’t want to make Vince sulk. I settle for a warm smile at him behind Vince’s head, then make my way to the kitchen.

When I return to the table, I take my usual spot at Vince’s right, with Mateo on my right, at the head of the table. I wonder why we never switched spots, since Vince obviously doesn’t enjoy sitting so near him. It’s not like he ever said we couldn’t.

I guess if I’m going to keep being his Sunday server though, it makes sense to keep us all together.

“I made that list,” I tell Mateo, because it just popped into my head. “Started it, anyway. It’s not done, but I expect it will be by the time I get home from school.”

He gives a nod of approval, picking up his coffee cup. “Good, I’ll order them right away.”

“What list?” Vince inquires.

“Oh, books for the library,” I say, placing a hand on his thigh and smiling. “I had some recommendations.”

This time, my leg squeeze move seems to appease him, because he accepts this explanation without getting irritable. Score.

Newly confident I can make this work and get along with everyone, I start chowing down on my oatmeal with strawberries.

“Do you work tonight?” Vince asks.

“I do.”

“I’ll give you a ride. That guy there again today?”

“I have no idea,” I state calmly.

This catches Mateo’s interest. “What guy?”

“Nobody. Mark—the baker. He was training me last week.”

“Ah,” he says with a nod. “Nice?”

“Yes, he’s very nice. A good trainer, too.”

Vince finishes his food first, since he started before me. After he drops it off in the kitchen, he comes back, playing with his key. “I’ll be in the car.”

“I’m almost done,” I tell him, shoveling a bigger bite on my spoon.

I finish the rest in record time and hustle to clean off the dishes. Since Vince isn’t here, I offer Mateo a smile a little more freely. “Have a good day.”

He’s reading the newspaper at this point, but he folds it aside to offer back a smile. “You too, Mia.”



---



“Now that is a perfect cookie. I can just resign, they don’t need me here anymore.”

Laughing as I inspect the smudgey mess of a cookie, I say, “Shut up.”

Holding his hands up in defense, he says, “No, I’m serious! Watch.” Grabbing the cookie, he takes a bite, then rolls his eyes back in exaggerated ecstasy. “Oh, my God,” he says, mouth full of cookie.

I snort, wadding up the paper towel by my hand and throwing it at his stomach. “I quit. You can design the cookies by yourself, I’m not helping you anymore.”

Grinning as he drops the cookie into the nearby trash can, he says, “I think that’s probably for the best. You just sit there and look pretty; I’m gonna do all the manly work.”

I roll my eyes and make a gagging face.

He still smiles, outlining and then flooding his cookie in a way I just can’t manage. “Sorry, am I giving you flashbacks of your home life?”

I take a seat on the stool next to his work table. “What home life?”

“Your whole mob wife deal,” he says, flashing a playful look my way. “From what I hear, they’re very…”

“Traditional?” I offer.

“I was gonna say sexist, but sure, we’ll go with that.” He switches icing bags. “Do you at least get to hear any juicy tidbits?”

“Juicy tidbits? No, I’m not in on any of that. Whatever they do outside of the home, I don’t know. My job is to serve the guys at dinner and wear a pretty dress.”

“Aw, come on. I’m sure you get something more than that. I love The Godfather. We should meet for coffee one day and you can dish.”

“There’s really nothing to dish. And I’m 100% sure Vince wouldn’t let me get coffee with you.”

His eyebrows rise, but he at least keeps watching the cookie instead of me. “Let you? Is he your boyfriend or your master?”

“There’s not as big a difference as you might think,” I say lightly.

“Ew,” he says.

I don’t disagree, but like Cherie said, it doesn’t really serve me to think about that. “It is what it is. What about you, do you have a lucky lady to call your own?”

That time he cuts me a smirk. “Nope, no one around to forbid me from getting coffee with a friend.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that. He wasn’t… controlling when we dated, but I’m starting to notice it a lot more now that we’re living together.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s how it always works,” he says, levelly. “How long did you even date the guy before you moved in with him?”

“I reserve the right to avoid answering that question,” I state.

“Not long enough, I take it?”

“It wasn’t my choice.”

Mark frowns, grabbing a new tray of empty cookies. “Moving in with your boyfriend wasn’t your choice?”

Glancing at the table, I realize, “We should probably talk about something else.”

“But I’m interested in this. I like hearing about your life—it’s far more exciting than mine. I’m not above a little girl talk,” he jokes. Then, a little more seriously, he said, “Plus, it sounds like things get a little intense at home. Just want you to know you have someone to talk to, if you need it.”

“Well, thanks. But honestly, it’s not how it sounds. Vince isn’t a bad guy, he just has a really weird family. I don’t think he would be so…whatever, it’s just, he reacts and certain family members think it’s amusing or something, so they prod him, and…”

“He Hulks out,” Mark surmises.

“He doesn’t Hulk out. He’s not violent,” I assure him, seriously. “He’s just paranoid. They all are. Crazy levels of paranoia in that family.”

With a nod-and-shrug he says, “I guess I’d probably be paranoid too though, you know?”

“Not that paranoid.”

“What’s the craziest paranoid thing you’ve seen since you moved in? They have, like, spy cams set up,” he says, indicating around the room dramatically.

My eyebrows rise. “You joke, but they do have surveillance. Apparently that you can see, and that you can’t. I haven’t spent too much time thinking about that Big Brother aspect though. I assume it’s more for outside threats than monitoring my trek to the pool.”

“Yeah, mob beefs and all. I know, I know, that’s how I roll, too.”

I shake my head at him, because he’s crazy. Hopping off the chair, I tell him, “Well, since I’m completely useless back here, I’m going to see if Francesca needs any help up front.”

“No,” he drawls. “Stay and keep me company!”

I shake my head at him, but I ignore his request and go up front.



N.B:- please leave comments or reviews

Chapter Nineteen



Vince is peeling off his dress shirt from dinner when I come in.

My first instinct is to duck back out of the bedroom to give him privacy, but I guess that’s dumb. We’re having sex, we’re living in the same space—we’re past that.

I subtly clear my throat anyway, just so he knows I’m here.

He glances back over his shoulder just long enough to acknowledge me, then goes to his closet and moves a few hangers before settling on a T-shirt.

“We should watch a movie,” I tell him. “I’m too stuffed for popcorn, but I think a movie night could be just what the doctor ordered.”

His stony silence stretches on, indicating he isn’t going to answer me.

I slip my shoes off, using my foot to scoot them over beside the bedside table. “Or we could do something else, if you want.”

“You can do whatever you want,” he finally says, brushing invisible lint off his sleeve. “I’m going to Joey’s.”

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I consider for a moment before I say, “You know I didn’t do anything wrong, right? He told Cherie he wanted me to bring him his food. It’s not like I could say no to him.”

Spinning on his heel to point at me, he says, “Exactly.”

Shrugging helplessly, I say, “That’s what you’re mad about? That I had no choice so I did this stupid little thing that doesn’t matter to anyone? It’s crazy. This is an insane thing to care about.”

My logic does nothing to calm him. “It’s not about the dinner. You’re not that naïve, Mia, come on.”

Scowling, I push up off the bed and walk around the bed so I’m closer to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not here all the time,” he says, eyebrows rising. “How do I know what’s going on when I’m not here?”

My mouth opens and closes four different times, but I’m fucking flabbergasted, and nothing will come out.

Finally I throw my hands up in the air. “You’re being crazy!”

“I’m being realistic,” he mutters. “He’ll come between us, just watch.”

“That’s so stupid,” I state. “And even if he wanted to, which, I want to reiterate, is insane, he can’t come between us if we don’t let him. Period. It’s impossible. He’s not God, he can’t make us stop caring about each other.”

With a bitter, knowing nod, he says, “No?”

I take a breath, telling myself to simmer down. Yes, Vince is being unreasonable, but escalating the situation won’t make it any better. After a moment, I manage calmly, “There is nothing going on when you’re not here. It’s insulting that you would even wonder.”

“Then why are you giving him his dinner?”

Throwing my arms in the air again, I walk past him to the dresser. Grabbing a hair clip, I yank the fancy pins out and toss my hair up instead. “Okay. We’re back to this. Your cousin is not interested in me, Vince. And I’m damn sure not interested in him.”

“You see the way he looks at you,” Vince counters.

“Like he wants to piss you off? Yeah, I see those looks. I think he likes to piss everyone off.”

“Adrian asked me about it,” Vince states, like he’s caught me.

I consider the moment earlier when I was in my bikini and Mateo was looking me over in front of him. I wouldn’t have thought that was worth reporting back to Vince—any man would’ve looked, it didn’t mean anything. Maybe I like Adrian a little less.

All I can do is shake my head. “Whatever. I’m not going to keep defending myself. I think this is stupid, I don’t know why you’re being so weird about all this, but I wish you’d stop. Stop giving him so much power over you. If he didn’t get such a rise out of you every time, he’d probably stop doing stupid little shit to piss you off.”

“It’d be nice if you were on my side about this,” he states.

“If your side and mine were the same, I would be, but it kind of feels like I’m being blamed for something, and I haven’t done anything wrong. If you’re accusing me of any sort of impropriety with Mateo, you’re completely mistaken. I’ve barely spoken to the man. Yes, I try to play nice, when he was friendly at dinner, I talked to him—I have this weird feeling that pissing him off for no reason isn’t the best idea.”

Shaking his head, Vince says, “Mateo isn’t friendly, Mia. He’s manipulative. I still don’t think you get it.”

“I’m really tired of being warned about him.”

“And I’m really tired of you not getting it,” Vince states.

“I must be impossibly naïve,” I return, fed up with this conversation. “Since he said he wouldn’t hurt me and you and I could be together, he hasn’t hurt me and we have been together. He gave my mother thousands of dollars and moved me into a mansion with my boyfriend. He’s been so atrocious to me that he bought me some things to help me fit in, and has conversations with me sometimes at the dinner table. Holy shit, what a monster.”

Making a face somewhere between anger and disgust, he says, “Whatever, I’m out of here.”

I sigh, turning toward him as he heads for the door. “Are you coming home tonight?”

“Why do you care?” he tosses back.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” I say, but he’s already slamming the door shut behind him.



---



Since I’m on my own with no homework and no company, I make my way to the library. It’s still kind of crazy to me that there’s an actual library in this house, but there is, it’s huge, and there’s this comfy couch that really tops off the whole experience.

I can’t find anything to read though. You wouldn’t think more choices would be a bad thing, but there are too many and I can’t decide.

The door creaks open as I peruse a shelf, so I glance back to see who’s there.

Mateo ducks his head in, not seeing me. “Anyone in here?”

Clearing my throat, I take a step toward him. “Yeah, I am.”

“Oh, okay. I was just going to shut the light off, thought someone left it on.”

“Nope,” I say, offering a slight smile. “Just looking for something to read.”

He nods, stepping inside. “Vince go to bed already?”

I shake my head, glancing at the floor. “He left. Went with Joey or something.”

Gesturing to the area near me, he says, “Mind if I come in for a minute?”

“Not at all,” I say, stepping back to make room, which is absurd, since there’s nothing but room. I just feel a little awkward after everything with Vince, and I’ve never actually been alone with Mateo, but I think I’ve been warned against it 850 times.

Nodding toward the book in my hand as he approaches, he asks, “What are you reading?”

“Oh, nothing yet,” I say, glancing down at the old, illustrated copy of Pinocchio. “I was just looking. You have some really cool books in here.”

“Yeah, I think there’s a little bit of everything,” he agrees, glancing around at the walls of bookshelves.

“Well, not everything, but pretty much.”

“What’s missing?” he asks, frowning slightly.

I blush, feeling a bit stupid. “Uh, I was looking to see if you had any graphic novels. There aren’t any.”

Now amusement dances in his eyes. “Graphic novels? Like, comic books? Heroes and villains? Good winning out over evil?”

I shrug. “They’re fun. Maybe not great literature, but I got sort of hooked on them last summer. The air wasn’t working at our house and we didn’t have any money to do anything, so I’d take the kids to the library. They could pick out books to read, there was a little play area, and I just sort of stumbled upon the graphic novels. They’re quicker to read than a book, less wordy, so it was a nice way to pass a little time. Some of them are really interesting. You shouldn’t knock them until you try them,” I advise him.

“My apologies to the graphic novel community,” he says solemnly. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Oh, I couldn’t choose,” I say, shaking my head.

“Well, why don’t you make me a list. I’ll order some for you—you know, to rectify this gross oversight in my library.”

I can’t help smiling. “I will. Then you can read them, and decide for yourself whether or not they’re stupid.”

“I do enjoy a good hero versus villain showdown,” he says, winking.

“So do I,” I admit. “In books, not so much… life, but…”

“Hey, now you’ve got firsthand experience, maybe you can write your own graphic novel,” he jokes.

“Oh, no, I’m not a writer. It takes me like 23 years to write a 3 page paper, double spaced. Also, I’m not sure dressing up for dinners and lounging by the pool in a 28,000 square foot mansion necessarily qualifies me to…you know, show the ugly underbelly of humanity.”

His eyes dance with amusement, and I wonder how I ever thought them cold. There’s definitely warmth there. “Give it time; you’re still new to the family.”

“Oh, I know, I’m always being warned about the horrors that await me,” I say unthinkingly, rolling my eyes. “What next, will I be forced to go on a cruise to the Bahamas?”

He maintains his smile, but glances down. “By whom?”

I look back at him, raising my eyebrows questioningly. “By whom will I be forced to go on the cruise?”

“By whom are you warned?” he specifies.

“Oh.” I pause, flushing, realizing that had been a dumb thing to say, given all the warnings have been about him. “Uh, I mean… I didn’t mean specifically, just…” I trail off awkwardly, hoping he’ll save me here, but he just watches me scramble. “Cherie was telling me how you guys—this family—the—how, like, you’re pretty traditional, and not, you know, feminist-friendly.”

I’m already feeling like an assbag for offering up her name, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to throw Vince under the bus, and I couldn’t really say, “Well, everybody. Everybody says that.”

Nodding his head, he said, “Cherie’s not a big fan of my family. I don’t blame her, her father certainly isn’t the best example, and given that, I’m sure her mother feels the same way, but I wouldn’t take her opinion to heart. We are traditional, but tradition isn’t always a bad thing.”

“Her father?” I ask, interest piqued. As long as I’ve wondered about Cherie, I still don’t know much about her. “I haven’t met him. Does he live here, too?”

“Ben?” he asks, eyebrows rising. “No. No, he moved to Vegas years ago, when Vince’s mom died.”

“Vince’s mom?”

“His wife?”

I give up and frown. “What? Sorry, I’m not following. I don’t know anything about Vince’s dad either.”

“Oh, Vince and Cherie have the same father,” he explains.

My jaw drops open. “They’re… siblings?”

“Half, yeah.”

All the times I’ve felt catty and jealous over her suddenly come flying back to me, and I feel so incredibly stupid. “Oh, my God,” I say, slapping my palm to my forehead with a little smile. “Wow, I wish someone would’ve told me that a long time ago.”

“You had no idea,” he realizes.

“I was such a bitch to her when she first tried to befriend me. Legendarily bitchy.”

He has the nerve to laugh. “Why?”

“I thought she was trying to… you know, horn in on my man,” I say, giving up and laughing at how stupid I sound. “Oh my God, I’m an asshole.”

“I’m surprised Vince didn’t tell you,” he remarks.

“Yeah, me too. We never even talked about it—he knew I had siblings, of course, but… he didn’t want to talk too much about his family.”

Mateo nods, understanding. “We try not to. You can’t trust people.”

Dimming a bit, that makes me think of the fight Vince and I just had. “I think you can trust people more than you guys do. Give people a little credit, they might surprise you.”

He looks amused. “I’m rarely surprised.”

Raising a finger to point at him, I say, “But rarely isn’t never, now is it?”

“I guess not,” he says. I know I haven’t cured him of his paranoia, but at least he gave me that.

“You all need to just relax. You guys have this awesome life, and you’re too busy watching over your shoulders to enjoy it. A month ago I had to find ways to make dinner for $2. If I got sick, I had to drink orange juice from the school cafeteria and hope the vitamin C helped because we couldn’t afford to buy medicine. You guys have a country club at your house and you’re all wearier than I’ve ever been.”

“You’re young,” he reminds me. “You’re correct that I’ve never experienced poverty, but you’ve never experienced a man you’ve grown up with for 20 years, more brother than friend, try to assassinate you because another man wanted what was yours. You’ve never had your older sister gouge you in the leg with a throwing star and try to end your life. You’ve never had to live every day knowing the only thing between you and a body bag is a good bodyguard and the people who would kill you being too afraid of what you’d do if they failed.”

My eyes are wide by the end. Being tucked away here, it’s easy to forget the ugly life that makes all the extravagance possible. “Wow, that… sucks. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, like it’s business as usual. “I have trusted people close to me. I learned not to.”

I can’t help the wave of sympathy that comes over me. I can’t imagine being betrayed in such grand fashion by the people closest to me. He’s different here, alone, without everyone around to posture for. “That sounds really lonely,” I tell him.

“That’s life,” he says simply.

“It doesn’t have to be,” I say, softly, since I don’t really know how to argue that. I’m sure in my convictions though, so I attempt to come up with evidence to base that claim on. “There are people here you can trust. I mean, Adrian seems like a good friend.”

“Adrian despises me,” Mateo states, smiling.

I rear back a little at that. “I thought he was your bodyguard?”

“He is,” he says, simply.

That… doesn’t make sense, but I move along. “Francesca—your sister is great.”

“So was my other sister—the throwing star one,” he reminds me.

Grimacing slightly, I say, “Damn, two for two. Well, you can trust me,” I decide. “I mean, I know I’m not powerful or connected and I couldn’t protect you from a bullet or a throwing star, but if you ever feel lonely, you can count on me as a friend.”

He’s looking at me in a way I can’t quite pin down, but I see traces of amusement there. “You always try to befriend people who’ve threatened to kill you?”

“Exclusively,” I say, not missing a beat. “How else will I know they care?”

Shaking his head, he states, “I’m not sure if you’re terribly idealistic or a little bit dim.”

Lightly whacking him in the arm, I say, “Hey, that’s not friendly!”

“I’m not a friendly guy,” he states.

“Oh,” I say, with a dismissive wave. “I think you’re friendlier than you want to admit. You don’t have to intimidate me into not wanting to kill you, so you don’t have to keep up the front.”

“Front, huh?” he repeats, still amused.

I nod. “There’s good in you. There’s good in everyone, and you’re no exception.”

With a disbelieving headshake, he says, “I think I’m starting to see why Vince is so fond of you.”

That draws a frown out of me. “Eh, he’s not so fond of me tonight.”

His eyebrows rise, like he’s surprised. “No? Well, his loss.”

My frown turns to a slight smile at that. A second passes, then Mateo takes a step away. “Well, I’ll leave you to your books. Turn the light off on your way out, would you?”

“Of course. Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Anytime,” he says, offering a slow smile before departing the room.



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