MATEO

by K. L. Savage

  “Fact of condition of being addicted to a particular substance, activity, or thing,” I ramble the first thing that comes to mind when I feel his lips on my skin.

  “And what’s that, Stellina?” he asks, brushing his lips across the top of my head.

  “Addiction.” I don’t seem to have any control over what I say. I’m a bit drugged and out of my mind. “To your lips on me.”

  His fingers grip my chin and tilt my head up. “As much as I love that, I’ll remind you of this moment in the morning. I’m going to call a doctor to come see you to make sure you’re okay. I’d hate for you to have a bad reaction to the drug.”

  “Minus the puking?” I grumble, hoping I forget this night for the rest of my life. The most gorgeous man I know had his fingers down my throat.

  And not in a good way. Well, if there is a good way.

  “Let’s get you changed. Teeth brushed. And in bed. How does that sound?”

  “Like a dream. My head is starting to hurt really bad.” I press my hand against my temple, rubbing the ache away. “Do you have any medicine?”

  “I don’t feel comfortable giving you anything. I don’t want it to clash with whatever drug is in your system. Just wait until the doctor gets here.” He slides one of the simple, yet elegant white drawers open with a gold handle, grabbing a fresh toothbrush. It’s still in its packaging.

  Of course he has extra toothbrushes. He probably has guests every night. I try not to think about it. I have no business tangling myself around a man of his caliber.

  He’s the kind of bullet that when fired, would leave a gaping hole in my chest. I’d be left in blood and no glory.

  “I know what you are thinking, but we will talk about that another time too.”

  I lift a shoulder, something I’ve done a lot tonight, but it’s easier than saying what’s on my mind. I don’t want to spew more definitions and make a fool of myself. My luck, I’ll end up reciting the entire dictionary. Not everyone finds it as fascinating as I do, so it would probably bore him to death.

  The plastic crinkles as he opens the package and pulls out a blue toothbrush. He turns on the faucet and wets the bristles, then adds toothpaste, and sticks the toothbrush under the running water again. “Here, Stellina,” he says. “Open.” He opens his mouth to show me what he wants me to do. All I see is a wide, red tongue that has me thinking dirty thoughts.

  “I can do it.” I reach for the toothbrush and miss, grabbing nothing but air since I’m seeing double. I stick out my bottom lip and pout.

  “Hush and open.”

  I want him to say that to me in a very different situation. The blood lights fires in my cheeks as I do what he says. A low rumble fills his chest and the natural acoustics of the bathroom fill the space with a low baritone. He places the toothbrush in my mouth finally and fresh mint bursts across my tongue.

  Much better than the rancidness I was tasting before.

  He brushes every tooth and scrubs my tongue. “Spit,” he orders.

  I giggle, slightly drunk sounding, but I don’t care, because it reminds me of what Faye said earlier tonight. I spit and he fills a paper cup with water to rinse.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks, quirking a perfectly groomed black brow.

  I shake my head, not wanting to reveal my secret about whether I’d be spitting or swallowing tonight.

  I’ve obviously done both, but this is not exactly how I’d pictured it in my head.

  “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll figure it out one way or another.” He has a glint in his eyes that tells me he will make it his mission to find out. “Come on, let’s get you out of that dress and into something more comfortable. Can you walk?”

  I nod and lift my leg to take a step, but I fall forward, right into his chest.

  His hard, muscular, defined, in-shape, chest.

  “I’m sorry,” I find myself saying again.

  He swings me into his arms, and I let my head rest against his shoulder. “What did I say about apologizing?”

  He walks down the hallway, and all I can notice right now are white walls and dark floors. My eyes won’t adjust to anything else. He opens the door, and a large bed comes to view with a black comforter and fluffy pillows.

  Mateo gently lowers me to the mattress and my body sinks into the soft clouds. The memory foam curls around my back, holding me in all the right places. Mateo lifts my arms above my head and grips the zipper on the left side. He drags it down, and when the metal track runs out of teeth to undo, deftly slips the straps off my arms. I close my eyes, loving the quick brush of his fingers along my shoulders.

  He tugs the dress free, and I cross my arms over my chest, feeling exposed and vulnerable. No one sees me like this. No one has ever seen me like this. I don’t even wear bikinis. I prefer one pieces.

  “Bellissima,” he murmurs. I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds like he is admiring me, perhaps?

  In my dreams.

  His fingers skim down my calf muscle, my skin pebbling from the quick accidental touch before he drops my dress onto the floor. His eyes roam my body before he turns around and heads toward his modern, sleek gray dresser. He pulls out a t-shirt. It’s simple. White. Nothing special to him, but I can’t wait to feel the material against my skin.

  Mateo’s face hovers over mine as he leans down and tugs the shirt over my head. I pant. My minty breath fills the air between us. His cheekbones are high, his jawline is a sharp, crisp edge I want to run my tongue across, and his lips are plump.

  I want to kiss him, but not like this, even if having him near is making the impulse hard to deny.

  He gently pulls my arms through the holes, then lowers the shirt down to cover the rest of my body. “You never need to hide yourself from me. I will do nothing but respect you. Always.” He tugs the comforter to my shoulder and brushes a piece of hair out of my face. “Until you ask me otherwise, Stellina.”

  His fingers trace my mouth; I’m so out of it I don’t know if this is a dream or reality. “Rest. I’ll wake you when the doctor arrives.” Mateo attempts to leave, but I reach for his hand quicker than he can take the first step.

  A hint of fear kicks in my chest. “Please, don’t go. I don’t want to be alone.” I don’t know what I’m afraid of, but I know when he is around me, I feel safe. I want to hold onto that.

  “Si, Nora. I will be glad to.” He unclasps his cuffs on his sleeves, then works the buttons loose from his neck to the bottom of the shirt. Mateo spreads his shirt to the side, showcasing an impeccable body.

  Tan skin, dark nipples, sparse chest hair, and a V that disappears under his pants. He is gorgeous, chiseled out of the marble that makes his home.

  I’m the admirer, appreciating the statue for its beauty.

  I have to keep my hands to myself or I might compromise the vision.

  The bed dips as he knee-walks to the other side of me, then lies down. He doesn’t wrap an arm around me, but his arm does touch mine and the simple, innocent touch is enough to calm the fear. “Rest, Stellina. I’ll be here.”

  I snuggle my head deep into his pillow, smelling the masculine scent of Mateo surrounding me and close my eyes.

  I’ll wake up and my life will go back to normal.

  But being here next to him is bringing a secret part of me to life. A part of me that never wants to feel normal again.

  My phone buzzes a half hour later and I reach into my pocket to get it out. I don’t want the vibrating to wake Nora. It’s a text from Zio. The doctor is here.

  I hate to wake her, but I need to know she’s going to be okay. What happened tonight can never happen again. Sure, it’s bad for business, but I don’t give a fuck about business. It’s worse for Nora or anyone else that has ever been or will be in the same position she was in. I can’t have drugs at my hotel.

  Do I mind moving them from place to place for cash for other people? No.

  A man has to make a living to build his empire and walking the straight and narrow a
ll the goddamn time doesn’t always pay the bills.

  And I have men working for me, men coming from Italy for the mafia that’s been in my family for generations. They are counting on me. This is their way of life. The only life I’ve ever known. It’s time to come back and be the man that ruled Vegas.

  Send her up. I text back. I made sure to have a female doctor and a male doctor at my disposal. I find that women are more comfortable with women, and while the work I do is not safe, I want the environment to be.

  I swing my feet off the bed and steal one last look at Nora before I stand. She rolls over and clutches my pillow to her chest, sighing contentedly to have me close. What is it about this woman? I don’t know. She’s too sweet, too naïve, too much of… everything for the likes of me.

  I want her still. I have this urge to shield her from the fucked-up cruelty the world has to offer. A sweet thing as herself doesn’t deserve to see the darkness that keeps the world spinning.

  Her hair falls over her face and the brown strands puff out with every one of her exhales. I can’t help myself. I lean over, and starting with my index finger, I gather her hair, then curl my middle and ring finger around the thick locks. Her delicate, slender shoulder looks so fragile under my giant shirt, I notice.

  The soft strands are like smooth silk in my hand as I push her hair over her shoulder, so it doesn’t tickle her face. Even in her sleep, she manages to chew on her bottom lip. It’s endearing, but I want to nibble on that lip, and I can’t do that if she chews it off. Bending down, I whisper in her ear, “Stop biting your lip, remember what I said they were made for?” I straighten, watching her face to see if she can hear me. Her lips part for a moment, and then her cheeks plump ever so slightly as she gives me a small, dreamy smile.

  Yeah, she heard me.

  “Good girl, Stellina,” I whisper.

  By some show of strength, I manage to unglue my feet off the floor and head toward the front door to let the doctor in. My bare feet create a sticking sound as I pad across the floor. I keep the bedroom door open so I can hear her wherever I am in the penthouse. Heading down the hall, I take a left into the living room. The blue velvet sectional is low to the ground, half-circling around the area. Expensive paintings hang on the wall, paintings that look more like splatters to me, but I’m sure there is some meaning behind them. If there is one thing I am not versed in, it’s art.

  Half of the penthouse is all floor-to-ceiling windows. I have the view of most of the city and the stars. Lights dazzle and dance in the night. Traffic is heavy on the Strip tonight, meaning more money is coming in than going out.

  Beautiful.

  I head to the door when movement on the other side causes my phone to alert me. Zio Giovanni is there standing next to a small woman in her early forties, like me, but I’ll never admit my age to fucking anyone. I’m not oblivious. I know I look good for forty-three, and I plan to leave people guessing how old I am for the rest of their lives.

  I open the door and am met with Zio’s annoyed face. His jaw is set, and his graying hair is out of place; a messy curl hangs down over his forehead. Anything out of place on Zio is never a good thing. He pinches the bridge of his nose, the large face of his silver Rolex shining in the overhead light. It reads two in the morning.

  When the hell did it become so late? Or is it early?

  “Doctor Alister, it’s good to see you. Thank you for coming at such short notice.” She has light auburn hair that’s up in an elegant French twist. She’s wearing a black pantsuit with red high heels, and for it being so late at night, she looks very professional. She has a black bag in hand, and she keeps the muscles in her face impassive. It looks like she’s sucked on a lemon.

  “Where is the patient?” she asks, twisting her right wrist to check the time. “I have another patient to see soon. Please, I do not want to wait outside your home.”

  My brows lift in surprise from her attitude. Zio’s expression is agitated. “I’m going to go check on our prisoner,” he tells me.

  “Leave him there. I want him to wonder what is going to happen. No food. No water. I’ll see him soon,” I state, swinging the door open to allow the doctor in.

  “Whatever you want, Mateo,” he tells me. He turns to Dr. Alister and rolls his lips together. “I hope to never see you again, Dr. Alister. You are the most unpleasant woman I’ve ever met.” He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles.

  Her face remains as still as stone. “Thank you.” Her tone is as cold as ice on a winter’s day. She tugs her hand free of Zio’s and her heels click with every step she takes to come inside.

  “Good luck,” Zio mumbles and begins to walk away.

  “—Wait, Zio.”

  “Si?”

  “Please, check on Nora’s friends. Tell them she is okay for now and get them whatever they want.”

  He gives a stiff nod and is on his way, disappearing down the hall.

  “Where is the patient?” Dr. Alister asks, curling a lip at my multimillion-dollar penthouse in disgust.

  I close the door and muffle a laugh. “She’s in my bedroom asleep.”

  “Take me to her. No time to waste. Update me on what you have done for her.”

  I spread my arm out in front of me. “Of course.“ I lead us in the direction we need to go. “I made her throw up everything, but it seems some of the drug was still left in her system. She’s asleep right now, but that’s it.”

  “Excellent. It’s good most of it was gotten out of her system. You acted fast, which is rare.”

  Wow. Praise from the Ice Queen. I’m sure that doesn’t happen often. “Thank you. She’s a friend, so the last thing I want to see is her hurt.” I open the bedroom door and my breath is stolen from my lungs. The moon is shining through the window, casting its silvery glow on Nora’s still frame. She’s so small in my bed, surrounded by a mountain of blankets and pillows. The moon lighting up my star.

  I rush to her side and set on the edge of the mattress, watching her chest rise and fall. “Bellissima,” I whisper, rubbing my knuckles across her cheek to wake her up slowly. “Wake up, Stellina. The doctor is here.”

  Her eyes flutter and her lashes fan over the tops of her cheek. Her sleepy blue eyes land on me and her lips tilt. She stretches her arms above her head and then drops them to her sides.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask her, appreciating her beauty as she wakes.

  She isn’t the typical woman I find myself in bed with. The women I usually fuck almost always have big, fake tits and spent thousands on plastic surgery. Women who had been with a hundred men before me. Their beauty has been bought, where Nora’s is natural. There is a simple appearance to her; like if a man doesn’t look close enough, he’d completely ignore her.

  But I’ve always had excellent vision and she is a long overdue sight for sore, tired eyes. There are no enhancements, just natural beauty. A woman could pay so much these days to get the natural look, and still never match up. Nora’s lashes curl, her nose is straight and small, the tip curling up just a smidge. Her cheekbones are high and her jawline, while delicate, is narrow and very feminine.

  Her lips.

  Dio mio, her lips.

  They are a delicacy I am not allowed to devour just yet. Pink, and undoubtedly soft, I can tell. Her top lip has a deep crease in the middle and is smaller than her bottom lip, the one she’s always nibbling on.

  Out of all the stars in the sky my eyes can see, my Stellina is the brightest of them all, blinding me with hope. She is the new beginning of the life I’ve been allowed to keep.

  “I might be a frigid bitch, but a friend does not wake a friend like that,” Dr. Alister notices, pinching the clasps of her black bag and opening it.

  I hate being called out and the damn doctor just outed my interest in Nora. I planned on asking her to dinner, to start us slow, because Nora seems like the type to appreciate slow. Under my knuckles, I feel the heat from her cheeks against my fingers.

  She’s blushing.


  Nora pushes herself into a sitting position and sways to the left. I catch her. “Whoa. Easy does it,” I say. “She was at the blackjack table and I saw a man put something in her drink. I don’t know what it was,” I tell the doctor as she listens to Nora’s heartbeat with a black stethoscope.

  She purses her lips as she concentrates. “I’m sure it was Rohypnol or GHB. Those are the most common drugs men use. She’ll be fine. I’ll hook her up to some fluids, give her some medication for a headache she’ll feel, but the gaps in memory I’m afraid I won’t be able to help with.” Dr. Alister sits in front of me, blocking my view of Nora, and I click my tongue, then rub it against the inside of my cheek. The woman has no manners. “Darling, how are you feeling?” she asks kindly, laying her boney hand on Nora’s shoulder.

  “Tired,” Nora slurs again.

  “She’s been slurring for a while now. Is that normal?”

  “Yes, Mr. Moretti. It’s all a part of the drug. Slows cognitive effects, making people lose control of basically everything in their body. Nora, you’re going to be okay. I suggest you rest tomorrow. You’re going to feel like complete hell.” Dr. Alister cleans the spot on Nora’s inner elbow and prepares the IV. “Stay here with Mr. Moretti.”

  She shakes her head. “I need to go home.”

  “You’re staying. That’s final,” I gripe, leaving no room for argument. It will give me time to get to know her.

  “I need my books. Homework.” Her sentences are short and sweet and her head bobs as she tries to keep it upright.

  “I’ll get your books. Your friends can come over and be with you while I’m out.”

  She nods, but her weight propels forward as she loses balance. Dr. Alister catches her and gives a slight chuckle of amusement. She lays Nora down and throws a banana bag of fluid on a hook then connects it to the IV. “You’ll be better in no time. I am so sorry this happened to you.”

  “The man will be dealt with,” I sneer, itching for a fight until the man bleeds to death. How many other women has he done this to? Probably dozens. Men like him don’t ever just try it once. They do it again and again and again. Until they are stopped.