by Sam Mariano
And I have a bad feeling that Salvatore Castellanos is fighting smarter.
Sure, he’s hiding right now, but even that’s not his style. Look at what it’s doing though—getting to Mateo, making him want to show himself, make a statement. He’s overreacting. We’re overreacting. Meanwhile Salvatore’s the one knowing his enemy, knowing how to play his enemy, and… well, winning.
It doesn’t look like he’s winning if you just look at the body count, but he’s fighting the way Mateo would usually fight—and he usually wins.
He’s pushed too many of Mateo’s buttons.
Now Mateo isn’t thinking straight, and that’s dangerous. We might be able to win with brute force, but we’re not doing things the smartest way, and that bothers me.
I need Mateo to dial it back. I need him to focus on being cunning and manipulative—they’re not the greatest traits within the family, but they make him a damn good opponent on the outside.
There’s too much on the line right now, though. And with this bullshit Matt just dropped in our laps, his trust in me is shaken.
I feel a little shaken myself when I realize we are poised to lose this war.
“You’re not even watching the movie.”
I anchor myself back in the moment and look over at Elise, curled up beside me in the sitting area in my room, watching me instead of the television.
“Sorry,” I murmur. My arm’s already around her, so I give her a little squeeze and focus on the screen.
“What’s going on up there?” she asks me.
“Just work stuff. Sorry.”
“Hey, if the Dread Pirate Roberts isn’t holding your attention, it must be big,” she says lightly. “Share your woes. That’s what I’m here for.”
“I just feel like we’re being outplayed.”
Her eyebrows rise in astonishment. “You and Mateo, outplayed? By who, The Riddler?”
I can’t bite back a grin. “Solid Batman reference.”
Smiling, she says, “You told me you liked him a long time ago. I may have studied up on the subject.”
“Such a good student,” I say lightly.
“How are you being outplayed?” she asks.
I shake my head. “It just seems like they’re tapping into every single one of Mateo’s weaknesses. The first couple of times could’ve been incidental, but it’s starting to feel strategic.”
“Is he the one who wants to kill Mateo, or the one who wanted to keep peace?”
“He was the one who wanted peace. Probably not anymore.”
Elise pats my hand, nestling into my side. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it all out.”
“Your unwavering faith in us is appreciated,” I tell her, lightly.
“Just trust your instincts,” she advises. “If they’ve got Mateo off his game, and he’s throwing you off yours… just stop. Regroup. Do your thing your way, because you’re good at it. He knows you’re good at it, so just cut him out if you need to.”
The shit of it is, I would do that, if not for this shit Matt kicked up. “It’s complicated right now. Mateo is having a bout of suspicion. If I do that, he could take it the wrong way.” I roll my eyes, thinking we really couldn’t be in less ideal circumstances than these.
Elise sits up, turning her attention back to me and scowling. “He’s doubting you?”
I haven’t told her about what Matt said to me yet. I guess I haven’t really wanted to, for a lot of reasons. I know Mateo’s cameras are around. I also don’t know how Elise would react to that prospect—part of me thinks she would like if it turned out I had Morelli blood.
I don’t want to keep secrets between us either, though. Especially secrets that could potentially become an issue, like this one.
“Mateo’s dad… you know he’s a shit-starter,” I say, to review.
“I know he’s a demon who should die and burn in hell for the rest of eternity,” she responds with a nod.
“Okay. Well… yeah. And also a shit-starter. He said something to me before he died, and—”
“Wait, he died?” she asks, lighting up. Then she smacks me on the arm, eyes wide. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that? That makes me so happy.”
I blink at her, despite smiling a little. “That’s slightly disturbing.”
Elise rolls her eyes in disgust. “He hurt you. He deserved to die.”
“Well, yeah. Turns out he might also—No, that’s wrong…” I sigh, closing my eyes for a minute, trying to clear my head. “He told me I was his son. But it’s not true. I’m sure it’s not true. But he said it, and I told Mateo, because I didn’t want there to be issues, but that created an issue, so maybe I shouldn’t have.”
She frowns, looking a bit surprised. “Matt Morelli said he was your dad?”
“It’s not true. But yeah.”
“How do you know it isn’t true?” she asks.
I hesitate. “Well, I mean, I don’t know it’s untrue. But I assume it is. And even if it isn’t, it doesn’t matter to me. But it matters to Mateo.”
“Why?” she asks, still frowning. “Mateo loves you. Wouldn’t he like if you were brothers?”
There was a time both of us probably would’ve liked that—before we would’ve understood the ramifications. “I’m older than he is.”
At first, she doesn’t get it. Why would that matter? Then it hits her, and I watch her face transform with understanding, my stomach twisting anxiously in response. It’s hitting her that this could all be mine… and that would also make all of it hers.
“The eldest son heads the Morelli family,” she finally says.
“Yep.”
“Oh.” Something like fear flits across her face then, and she glances over at me. “But he wouldn’t hurt you…”
“I wouldn’t want it, even if it turned out that scumbag was my father, but… you know Mateo.” As soon as it’s out, I remember who I’m talking to and I roll my eyes. “No, you don’t. Never mind. Anyway, because he’s an ambitious asshole, he’s having a hard time accepting that I’m not. So this isn’t the best time to start making my own calls without permission.”
“That’s annoying,” she says, a bit off-handedly. I can tell she’s still processing this new information, and I’m wishing I would’ve taken her to a bathroom to have this conversation. The last thing I need is her saying the wrong thing. Even if Mateo could accept that I’m not ambitious enough to try to take his seat at the table, if Elise said anything even remotely encouraging, he would double down. I gave up five years of my life for this girl after knowing her for a week; it’s not a stretch to imagine I might try to take down someone I openly dislike (most of the time) if I thought it would make her happy to reign over his kingdom.
“Anyway,” I say, so she doesn’t remark further, “I guess we should turn our attention back to Cary Elwes.”
This effectively aggravates her and she rolls her eyes at me. “He’s not Cary Elwes. He’s Dread Pirate Roberts—or at the very least, Westley. Don’t ruin it.”
“I just don’t love this movie as much as you do. It’s never going to happen. Just accept it.”
“I will never accept that,” she swears, as if declaring her fealty. “Never ever. In fact, just for that, I think we should name our son Westley.”
My heart slides out of my chest cavity, right through my stomach. “Oh, good, we’re talking about kids again.”
Elise grins at me, her hand drifting over to caress my thigh. “Relax, I didn’t mean tonight. But I want Westley on the record as my boy pick.”
“I… won’t fight you on that, actually. I like that name.” It makes me feel a little ill that we’re already naming our unborn kids, particularly given the climate of everything else in my life right now. My sort-of best friend might try to kill me. We might lose a gang war, anyway, and he won’t even have to. I still haven’t found Francesca. Everything related to the business-side of my life right now sucks. And as much as I think about Elise on a daily basis, I don’t think there’
s even room in my heart for someone else—let alone two someones. It’s not a very big space. She should understand that.
“Candace and Westley Palmetto,” she says happily, tilting her head back to look up at me. “I love them already.”
“Do you ever wish you would’ve been able to choose for yourself?”
“Choose what?”
“Your… me. Your partner. The person you’d start a family with. You’ve obviously burrowed in and made lemonade like a pro, but isn’t there any part of you that wishes you could’ve picked someone out for yourself?”
She frowns at me a little, like she disapproves of my question. “No.”
“Why?”
“What good would that do me?” she asks, her scowl deepening. “Why would I look for reasons to be unhappy? We’re a good match. You’re wonderful to me. We’re happy together. Who cares if it was arranged?”
I shake my head, still mildly in wonder about the way her brain works. “We have very different ways of approaching life.”
Elise rolls her eyes indulgently, like she knows more about it than I do. “That’s why I’m happier than you are.”
On a whim, I ask, “What would you do, if you were me?”
“In regards to which crisis?” she asks, sitting up a little straighter and turning to face me.
“My Mateo situation. My way isn’t working. How would you handle it?”
Elise pauses for a moment to consider, her eyes drifting upward as she files through the information she has. “I think I’d just let him know I’m happy with what I have. I’d let him see it.”
Shaking my head slightly, I tell her, “I am doing that. But Mateo isn’t… He doesn’t stop once he gets what he wants. He always has to have more. I don’t know how to make him look at me and not think about what he would do. He could be happy with his circumstances and have everything he’s always wanted—he does, right now, as we speak—and do you think he stops and accepts that he’s content? No. He has to keep reaching for more.”
“That’s sad,” she says, her lips turned down. “Why keep reaching if there’s nothing missing?”
“There’s always something missing. No one has everything.”
“What could you have that you don’t? You already have status. You already have respect. You’ve gained everything you would have as a Morelli anyway, by working for him these last five years. What more could you want?”
“Money.”
“Well, he’s got lots of that,” she says, rolling her eyes. “He can’t possibly be worried about that. Presumably now that he’s done paying you in Elise, he has to start paying you in money, right?”
A short laugh escapes me at her phrasing, and she smiles, pleased with herself. “Yeah, he’ll start paying me actual money.”
She shrugs. “Then the only thing you have left to gain, you’ll gain without hurting him.” Sudden awareness transforms her face and she says, “That’s it. He needs to know you love him.”
I grimace.
She stands her ground. “No, listen. Mateo is not afraid you’ll overthrow him because you covet what he has—he knows you’re not like that. He’s afraid you’ll overthrow him because he thinks you don’t really like him. If you only owe him your loyalty because of his position… you just found out maybe he shouldn’t have his position. If you serve him because you care, because you love him and want to keep him safe, and want to keep him in power… then he has nothing to fear. He wouldn’t care if you were brothers if you acted like one, but you openly disdain him.”
“He’s a horrible human being,” I state.
“We all know that. But look at the people who manage to accept it—they get his trust.”
“I can’t condone everything he does, Elise.”
She shrugs. “I can’t, either, but the people he does it to seem to find a way. Look at Mia. She sort of baffles me, but despite his desire to literally kill her when he met her, she’s like one of his favorite people now.”
Elise is absolutely right—and she doesn’t even know how true that is.
Expressing any kind of affection makes me uncomfortable enough, but the thought of accepting Mateo causes everything within me to recoil. I’ve spent most of my life doing exactly the opposite. It’s been easy to keep that wall up for five years, despite working to keep him safe and successful every damn day, because I nursed it in my heart. Each night when I went to bed, each morning when I rose to serve him, I knew why I was doing it—to free Elise. Not for him.
But at the end of the day, I’ve also done plenty of things I didn’t have to do. Things that were not my job at all, weren’t even my business, but I saw a way I could help him, so I did. Sometimes I just do things because, yeah, I want the bastard to be happy.
“I’m not going to tell him that. Men don’t say shit like that to each other.”
“Then show him,” she advises.
“I don’t know how,” I say honestly. “You may not have noticed, but this is my weakest area. I don’t know how to do this shit.”
Leaning in to nudge me in the shoulder, she says, “Something you don’t know how to do. Go figure.”
“I guess it’s your turn to tutor me,” I say lightly.
Elise nods, turning her attention back to the television. “Okay, lesson one is going to be incredibly simple and also probably really hard. Leave your judgments at the door. When he’s doing something you don’t approve of, just respond with love. Just let it go and love him. Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t get surly. Don’t respond the way you do. Think, ‘what would Elise do?’ If I can be kind to people who buy and sell me like a pair of shoes, you can keep your disapproval over Mateo’s life choices to yourself.”
I raise my eyebrows. “See, I’m one of those shoe shoppers you’re referring to. You say things like that and it makes me wonder—”
Apparently not in the mood for my nonsense, Elise launches herself across the couch and straddles me.
“Oh,” I murmur, losing my train of thought as she yanks her shirt over her head, tossing it on the floor behind her. Suddenly Elise’s boobs in a tight black bra are just about at eye-level. “That’s a very effective way to change the subject.”
Grinning, she swoops in and kisses me. “You think that’s effective?” she asks, between kisses. Then her hand drifts between my legs, and like my cock, Elise’s level of effectiveness rises.
Chapter Twenty
Clearly because my assignment for today is not to judge Mateo and the universe wants me to fail, Mateo and Mia both show up at breakfast this morning without Meg, and with wet hair.
Wet hair.
Mia never came to the table with wet hair when she lived here, and now despite the obscene number of showers in this house where they could’ve showered separately, I’m convinced they took one together.
Elise’s assignment is too hard.
“Where’s Meg?” I ask, watching Mia instead of Mateo. That bastard never looks guilty, but he hasn’t completely disintegrated Mia’s conscience—not yet, at least.
Mia keeps her eyes on her oatmeal as she scoops up a spoonful.
Mateo answers, “Sleeping.”
I nod, still watching Mia. “Right. Pregnancy does tend to make women more tired, doesn’t it?”
Mia isn’t giving me anything so I finally look at Mateo. He’s smirking, because he knows what I’m doing. Once I meet his gaze, he shakes his head, eyes twinkling with amusement, and takes a sip of his coffee.
“I wouldn’t know,” Mia murmurs, sipping from a glass of orange juice.
“When are you and Vince going to start popping out little Morellis?” I ask, to remind her she has a boyfriend.
Mia rolls her eyes. “Literally never.”
I’m not sure why that surprises me. Maybe I have spent too much time with the Morelli men. “You don’t want kids?”
“I do; he doesn’t.”
That just stresses me out more. Now my head is filling up with the colossal disaster of Mateo impregn
ating Mia—Meg and Vince losing their collective shit. Meg didn’t leave a husband who sucked, so she could probably be managed, but Vince… Jesus Christ.
I don’t even know how much I’m making yet, but I already feel sure I need a raise.
One mess at a time. I need to focus on the outside problems before I start thinking about the ones inside this family. Of course, I can’t talk about work shit with Mateo right now because Mia’s here.
“How about you?” Mateo challenges.
I’ve gotten so lost in my own disaster-scenarios, I don’t know what he’s asking and I raise my eyebrows questioningly.
“When is Elise going to start popping out little…” Mateo pauses, holding my gaze just long enough before slowly finishing, “Palmettos?”
I don’t know if the dread washing over me is from the Morelli bullshit or my anxieties over the two kids Elise has already named—though there’s certainly crossover anxiety there.
Mia sighs, not waiting for my answer, and gets up from her seat at the table. Mateo’s attention turns to her for a moment, but she doesn’t look at him, she just heads to the kitchen to rinse her dishes.
“Why can’t anything in this family ever be easy?” I inquire aloud, though more to myself than Mateo.
“Making babies isn’t so hard.”
“I’m obviously not referring to that.”
Mia comes back in, flashing each of us a mild smile. “Well, I’m off to work.”
Mateo asks, “You have Colin’s number?”
Nodding once, she says, “If I see anything funny, I’ll call him straight away.”
He nods, satisfied, and Mia gives me a little wave before leaving us alone in the dining room.
“I still think I should send him to keep an eye on her,” Mateo says.