by Sam Mariano
“It’s time to get back to my life, Mia,” he tells me.
Ouch. “I’m part of your life,” I remind him softly.
He sighs, taking a seat on the edge of my bed and looking back at me with a look that verges on apologetic. “I think that was a mistake.”
I fall back on my legs, feeling a little like he just stole the breath from my lungs. “Are you… are you dumping me?”
“We’re not 15, I’m not dumping you. I just don’t want to do this to you anymore. I thought this would be rewarding for both of us, and it obviously isn’t turning out the way we thought it would. I think it could’ve, if you would’ve been able to…” He stops, shaking his head. “But it doesn’t matter. It didn’t, and it’s not your fault but you can’t give me what I need from you.”
“Yes I can,” I say automatically, not even realizing what I’m saying. I just have to disagree with him, because I don’t want this.
“It’s okay,” he says, reaching out and tenderly caressing my jaw. “You don’t have to.”
“But I can,” I argue, wanting to sink into his touch. Wanting to cry. Is he serious? He killed my boyfriend, and after a month he’s just going to call it? What the fuck? This was all for nothing, and he’s disappointed in me. It’s like he’s undone everything. It’s like he’s erasing the good memories. It’s like… he’s erasing me from his life.
“I’m going to get you an apartment in the city near campus. I won’t make you stay here any longer. I’ll still pay for you to finish your degree, it’s the least I can do for you.”
I shake my head in denial, unable to grasp this. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re punishing me. This is a punishment.”
“This is not a punishment, Mia. It’s a punishment to be with someone you love, knowing they don’t feel the same way. That’s a punishment. And I don’t want to do it again. It hurt like hell last time. Right now this is just a disappointment. Let’s not let it grow into a painful memory.”
“This isn’t right,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I don’t want us to be a disappointment. I don’t want this. I don’t want to leave.”
“Well, there’s no point in you staying.”
“But I’ll never see you again.”
Smiling faintly, he stands. “That’s probably a step in the right direction.”
“No.” I climb closer to the edge of the bed, grabbing the tail of his shirt since he hasn’t tucked it in yet. I tug him closer, bracing my hands on his sides, searching my mind for something to say, something to do. He’s wrong. He’s wrong about all of this. I’m not unable to give him what he wants. I can love him unconditionally. I was willing to share him, for fuck’s sake. It’s just… the toll that would take on me, loving him when every ounce of that love costs so much now….
Gently tugging his shirt out of my hand, he says, “Let go, Mia.”
Tears spring to my eyes and I feel like my heart is splintering apart in my chest. “I don’t want to let go.”
“Well, you have to let go of something. Either let go of me, or… It seems like the only option is to let go of me. Move on with your life.”
“That’s not the only option,” I say, quietly. “I don’t want this.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore, Mia,” he says, simply.
I can’t swallow down the lump in my throat this time. I try three times, but it won’t leave. The sting behind my eyes isn’t a sting anymore; there are tears there. He’s really going to do this. He’s really going to throw me away. He took everything from me, and I’m not meeting his expectations, so he’s just going to cast me aside. I have nothing to go back to. Nothing. I have no friends left from my life before them. I spend all my time with his family—I’ve only seen mine a handful of times since I moved in with Vince. And Vince. He took Vince from me so he could have me, and now he doesn’t want me anymore? Vince may have been a lot of things, but he never would’ve done this.
“Don’t do this,” I say, grabbing his shirt again, tugging him closer. “You do want this. You wanted it ten minutes ago. You wanted it last night. You can’t just turn it off like that.”
“I can,” he says, almost sympathetically.
Desperation claws at me now, because I don’t know if he can or not. That might be true. He doesn’t operate on the same emotional level as me. I couldn’t, but maybe he can.
I can’t plead with him, so I do the only thing I can think of—I pull him close and give him the kiss I denied him moments ago. He doesn’t respond. It makes me even more frantic. I hate when he does this. I hate when he won’t kiss me back.
But he probably does, too. I’ve done it to him, too.
“Kiss me back, goddammit,” I murmur, pushing myself up higher, pulling him close. “Fuck me.”
“You want me to fuck you?” he murmurs lowly.
“Yes. Please.”
“Why? So you can refuse to kiss me afterward?”
“I won’t do that,” I promise.
“Maybe not today,” he says, with disinterest. “But you will tomorrow, or the next day.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry. I won’t do that anymore.”
Something unsettlingly predatory crosses his face, but it’s gone in a flash. “I’m not playing these games with you anymore, Mia.”
“It’s not a game,” I promise, tugging him closer. “I just want you to stay.”
“I don’t know.” His words say he doesn’t know, but his gaze moves over my naked body, and I know he’s interested. I refuse to believe he isn’t.
“Come on,” I say, attempting to coax instead of beg. “It’ll be fun.”
“But it won’t be,” he says seriously. “It isn’t fun to want something from you that you can’t give me, Mia. That isn’t fun.”
“I’ll give it to you,” I tell him, even as my heart sinks.
That look’s in his eye again, the gleam he gets when I’m about to sell him a piece of my soul. I’ve seen it before, and it should be more of a turn-off, but it’s just… it’s just a part of him. And I love all the parts of him, even the dirty, rotten, evil ones.
I swore I wouldn’t, but I do.
I swore I’d deny us both, but I didn’t account for this. I didn’t count on him trying to throw me away.
He might be playing me, but he might not be. The stakes are too high. I can’t afford to lose him. I can’t envision a trajectory for my life anymore that doesn’t include sitting at his goddamn dinner table, or ever falling asleep with his strong arms wrapped around me, trapping me in the most sensual prison imaginable.
“Stay.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Mia
I feel like he’s been standing here, debating whether or not to fuck me, for an eternity. It shouldn’t take this long.
Deciding he needs a little more incentive, I sink back on the bed and lie down, letting my hand wander between my legs, my other hand moving to my breast. His heated gaze moves from one hand to the other. It lingers on the one covering my pussy, my finger playing where his had just a few minutes ago.
“I need your hands on me,” I tell him.
“These hands?” he asks, holding them up briefly, holding my gaze, before easing onto the bed, crawling toward me.
Relief swells up inside me. I nod, holding his gaze. “I love your hands.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs, climbing on top of me. “What else do you love?”
My heart hammers in my chest as he moves my hand from between my legs, replacing it with his. I’m tempted to keep it physical. I’m tempted to tell him I love his shoulders or his eyes or his hair or his cock—any of those would be true. But I know what he wants to hear. I know what he has to hear.
“You,” I say, quietly. My heart sinks instead of filling up, like it did when I loved him before. I’m no longer proud to offer him my love. It doesn’t fill me up to love him now—it subtracts from me. He’s going to take from me now, and it’s going to be hard. But it’s the only way I get to keep him, so I
He watches me, waiting. He wants more of a declaration than that. If I’m going to give him my soul, he wants it in writing. He wants words he can hold me to.
“I love you, Mateo. I love every part of you. You know I do.”
“Still?”
I swallow hard, but I nod.
It’s good enough. Relief courses through me as his weight comes down on top of me, his mouth dominating mine, and this time I kiss him back. I kiss him back with everything I’ve got, but he gives back. He may always take more than he gives, but right now he’s giving. He kisses me like I’m everything, like I’m his whole world, and since it’s the most beautiful lie he’s ever spun for me, I keep it as a truth. Maybe it will cost me more than I accounted for to love this man, and maybe it will kill me a little bit when I let myself remember why I shouldn’t. But I’ll love him anyway. I’ll let him consume me, and then I’ll stay with him when the spell wears off. When it hurts me.
He pulls his weight away from me, but doesn’t break the kiss. Then he pulls his cock out, not taking his pants all the way off, just enough to fuck me. He guides himself between my legs, pushing inside me. I moan against his mouth, locking my legs around him.
“You might regret this,” he tells me, like he’s giving me a heads up.
I laugh a little, nodding. “I know.”
“There’s no going back from this, Mia. If you go back on me now…”
“I won’t. I don’t want… I don’t want you to be disappointed in me. I don’t want you to remember me in the same category as Beth.”
“I didn’t know you hated Beth,” he remarks, bending his head to kiss my neck.
“I didn’t know she betrayed you,” I state, closing my eyes on a sigh as he moves inside me.
He pulls back to look at my face, smiling darkly. “Do you hate everyone who’s ever betrayed me?”
I nod, more fiercely than even I expect. I feel the loyalty to him pouring through me again, stronger than before. If I’m going to sell my soul for this man, I’m damn sure going to believe he’s worth the cost.
Then his lips meet mine again, his tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I believe he is. I let myself get swept up in the tempest, every thrust of his hips embedding him deeper inside me, not just physically, but emotionally. If my body is a temple, he’s the vampire I just invited into it.
He might suck me dry and leave me lifeless, but at least it will be one hell of a ride.
---
He comes back to my room every night.
Meg probably isn’t super thrilled, but now that I’ve committed myself to him, I don’t complain. He still likes to play games in bed, sometimes making me beg, making me worried that he means it. But then after we’re both sexually satisfied, I can tell it’s only a game because he pulls me against him, wraps me up in his arms, and kisses me like he loves me. He hasn’t said it to me again—I’m starting to wonder if he ever will—but I feel it, and that’s enough. He’s enough. Now that I’ve given myself over to it, it’s scary again. But it’s scary in the same way he’s scary—I don’t want to run away. I wanna let it catch me. I wanna know what thrilling horrors it’s going to inflict upon me.
I probably need therapy, but so does he. It works for us.
And I love that there’s an us. I like admitting I’m his—not his, because I’m his property and I’m not allowed to leave. His, because I’ve given myself to him. Because he wanted me.
I just don’t feel as good about it as I did before. It still doesn’t fill me up the way it did before it was broken. Or, it fills me up, but not with the same feelings. I felt like I was in heaven with him for those three beautiful nights, overflowing with warmth and a much healthier love. Now the love I have for him feels like a dark secret, something I’m ashamed of.
It’s not what I wanted. But it’s what I have, and I’ll just have to make the best of it.
I live for night time now. I live for his skin against mine, his lips on my neck, his hands in my hair. I live for his roughness, his gentleness, and every point in between. I live for him, period.
It’s harder to exist outside of this room. I feel like everyone knows I’ve given in to Mateo and betrayed Vince’s memory. I feel like they’re all judging me.
Vince never leaves me. Every time I let Mateo kiss me, let him have me, let him keep me, I come back down. I just don’t take it out on Mateo anymore. I don’t retreat from him, but my heavy mind still turns to Vince. Sometimes, when my mind is feeling especially mean, it drifts back to that night. It replays Mateo in our living room, saying horrible things to Vince. The last things he ever heard, and the words were so malicious. So hurtful. Those three blissful nights that I was so unashamed of, I should have been ashamed because I still belonged to Vince. I could’ve broken up with him after the first night, but I didn’t. I put it off.
When the same hands that stole the life from Vince’s body caress my naked flesh, sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe. Like he’s stealing the life from me, too.
---
“Are you going to be okay without Adrian?”
Ordinarily Mateo would wait in the dining room for his lunch, but today I’m making it for him and he keeps me company in the kitchen, leaning against the counter the way he does his desk. I still won’t go in his study, so it’s been a while since I’ve seen that. I sort of miss it, but I don’t see myself entering his study again anytime soon. It’s too hard.
“Of course,” he murmurs, glancing up from his phone to give me a slight smirk. “I am capable of keeping myself alive, you know.”
I raise a playfully skeptical eyebrow. “Says the man who can’t cook. If we ever wanted to kill you, we could just lock you up in a house with no servants and eventually you’d starve to death.”
His attention has returned to his phone, but he responds anyway. “I would not starve to death. Just because I don’t cook doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“Can you?”
“Probably. If I tried. I’m not an idiot, I could follow a recipe.”
I can’t stifle a small smile. “You’ve seriously never cooked before? Not once? Not even, like, helping make Christmas cookies or something as a kid?”
“Who would I have made Christmas cookies with?”
It’s a sad question, but he doesn’t ask it sadly. It makes me a little sad though, for the child version of Mateo who definitely should’ve made Christmas cookies at least once. He’d probably be nicer if someone would’ve made him cream together butter and sugar for chocolate chip cookies. Damn them all.
“Well, you can help me make cookies this year,” I volunteer.
Without looking up, he says, “Pass. You can make them with Isabella if you want to.”
“And Lily. Meg and I can make a day of it.”
“There you go,” he says, nodding, eyes still on his phone as he taps out an email.
“Do you even like cookies?” I ask, since he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth.
“I’ll eat yours,” he says, leaning in and kissing me before pushing off the counter and going to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.
“That wasn’t a yes,” I say mildly, putting the last touches on his lunch and picking up the plate. I take it out to the dining room for him and he follows behind me. Before I can step away, he has his hands on my hips, tugging me back against him to feel his hardened cock.
“We’re going to have to revisit that maid costume idea,” he tells me, running his hand over my ass.
He’s stirring my interest and I do not have time for a nooner. I straighten, but he hasn’t sat down, so I’m flush against his hard body. His strong arm moves around my waist, locking me against him, and his tempting mouth dips into the crook of my neck so he can kiss it.
“You know I don’t have time,” I inform him, closing my eyes as his free hand moves up the inside of my thigh. “I have to go meet Francesca.”
“Francesca ruins everything,” he states.
I smile faintly. “That’s not true at all.”
Before he can persuade me to blow off lunch with his sister, Meg comes into the dining room. Her gaze drifts to us, her perfect eyebrows rising. Mateo’s arm unlocks from around my waist, his hand drops, and he takes a seat.
“Am I interrupting?” Meg asks lightly, making her way to the head of the table and pausing to glance from him to me. “I would apologize, but we have like 8,000 bedrooms and this is the dining room, so I’m actually not sorry. Get a room, guys.”
Mateo is unruffled, but I feel myself flush. “You weren’t interrupting. I’m just about to leave anyway.”
“Oh yeah?” She glances at Mateo’s plate. “You could’ve made me a sandwich. What good is having a wife if you’re not even gonna make me a sandwich? Although, actually, I’m so hungry I need more than a sandwich. You know those 8 foot long subs? How come we don’t have 8 foot long sub buns in the pantry?” she demands of Mateo, eyebrow arched.
“An excellent question,” Mateo replies. “I’ll take it up with Maria immediately.”
“You think I’m joking.” She shakes her head, rubbing her belly. “This little parasite is freakin’ hungry.” Now she gives Mateo a smile and leans in to give him a kiss. “Good afternoon, by the way. You look especially handsome today.”
“And our little parasite is making you glow,” he says dryly.
“I’ll be nicer to it once I’m fed,” she promises. Then, batting her eyelashes at me, she adds, “How much do you love me?”
“Enough to make you a sandwich, but I can’t right now,” I tell her. “I’m having lunch with Francesca and he’s already trying to make me late.”
“Oh, she loves me. Tell her I say hi,” she says, grinning.
I look down at Mateo. “Last chance to come along. Then Meg can have your food and we all win.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sure she’ll want to gossip and/or bitch about me. Can’t do that if I’m there.”
“Fine.” I lean in to give him a kiss, then with a little wave, I head for the car where Adrian waits for me.
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