by Sam Mariano
“Yes, drunk women love just about anyone,” he informs me, leaning against the doorframe. “Walk, so I know you’re not going to fall over.”
I shake my head at him, but I start walking toward the stairs anyway. “You’re impossible,” I mutter.
He’s an impossible bastard, but he still follows me out of the study and watches me climb the steps to ensure I make it. I take that as a sign of his affection, because it’s apparently all I’m going to get.
By the time I get to the bedroom, I feel somehow drunker. I belly flop onto my bed and dig around in my purse, extracting my Salvatore phone. I have to blink a few times to focus, but I manage to get the messages open and open up our message chain. The last one was about the doughnuts, and I’m suddenly immeasurably guilty. I have this wonderful man who loves me and wants me and treats me so well, and I’m jeopardizing things for a hypothetical beef between our families that may never even arise. That’s stupid. I’m not stupid, so I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to be like Mateo. I’m not going to push people away until they finally give up on me.
“I’m so sorry about earlier,” I type and send. “That sucked and I don’t want to fight with you. I love you. I just hate thinking about that because I never want it to happen.”
Sal read my first message immediately, and just the thought of him out there, still awake but not with me, makes me sad. I just want to be with him. I don’t want to be here. I want to cuddle up in bed with him and fall asleep. I want to sleep all night and not have him wake me up so I can leave to come back to my big, lonely bed.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he sends back. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not mad.”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me,” I send back, despite him just saying he wasn’t.
“I’m definitely not. I understand family loyalty. I guess for me, you just feel like family somehow.”
“I wish I could be your family,” I tell him. “I wish I could fall asleep curled up in your arms every night.”
“I wish that, too.”
I flatten myself on the bed, lips downturned. I probably shouldn’t be texting him out in the open like this. I have no idea if there are cameras in my bedroom, but my assumption is yes, since they’re everywhere. The last thing I need is Mateo to wonder why I felt like drinking with him tonight and investigate, or even him just being concerned that I got lost or fell on my way up here. He could pop into the security room to check my monitor, just to make sure I got here safe, and he’d see me texting. There’s only one reason I would be sending drunken text messages after proclaiming to Mateo how incredible love is, and the last thing I need is for him to start looking into me.
The phone lights up again and I tip it on its side so I can read it without moving. “Are you okay?” Sal asks.
Typing feels hard, and I need to put my phone away and go to bed, but I grab the phone and clumsily type back, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he assures me. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m okay. I had a drink with Mateo and he drinks battery acid, I guess.”
“That was probably not a good idea,” Sal remarks.
“I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t. I just felt like I needed a drink and he has the good stuff.”
“I’m sorry I drove you to drink,” Sal types back. “Especially with your brother.”
“I should set him up with Maddie.”
“Not in a million years,” he sends back.
“She’s pretty. He’d think she’s pretty.”
“You need to sleep off the battery acid, babe,” he sends back.
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
“You said that already. It’s fine. No need to apologize. Everything is fine, and if that ever changes, you know I’ll take care of you no matter what.”
That warms up my insides and I can’t help smiling. My eyes drift closed though and I realize I desperately need to hide my phone so I can go to sleep. My body suddenly feels like a sack of bricks.
“You always take care of me,” I send back, with a kissy face emoji. “I love you. I’m going to bed. Good night.”
I wait for him to say good night back, then I stash my Salvatore phone and grab my real phone out of my purse and put it on charge. I drape myself across my bed, still fully clothed. Thank God tomorrow is Sunday and the bakery is closed. I feel like I need to sleep for three days.
I don’t even crawl the rest of the way up the bed to put my head on the pillow, I just crash in the middle of the bed and a minute later I’m asleep.
---
I feel absolutely awful when I wake up around lunchtime on Sunday.
Not physically. My mouth is as dry as a cotton field, but that might have more to do with sleeping for 12 hours than the alcohol I consumed.
No, I feel awful because what the hell was I thinking? My drunken speeches come back to me in pieces, but there’s one piece that sticks and holds: You need someone to love you, because having someone love you is incredible and I want that for you.
I feel panicky thinking about it as I shower and get ready for the day. That was just about the worst thing I could have said. Why didn’t I just hold up my secret phone and tell him I’m in a secret relationship? It would’ve been just as subtle! Mateo knows exactly who I was in my only relationship with, and he damn sure knows he never loved me.
I can’t believe I did this.
I shouldn’t have gone to his study last night. I definitely shouldn’t have had a drink with him. I’m lucky he didn’t latch on and push the issue right then.
My only possible saving grace is that I brought up Beth mere seconds before I said that. I didn’t only bring her up, I told him to get over her. Good God. He may have actually been in a rage fog, so maybe be wasn’t even really listening at that point.
Beth is Mateo’s kryptonite.
Here’s hoping I threw him enough by bringing her up and he didn’t realize what I said.
I don’t even get my Salvatore phone out today. Logically I realize it’s too late; if I made him suspicious enough to check, he already watched me texting him last night after I came back from the study.
I can’t believe I was so reckless.
I’m tempted to go see him before dinner, but illogically I feel like if I don’t see him, that means he doesn’t know anything. The longer I can avoid him, the less worried I have to be.
It doesn’t work though. I’m so anxious, the whole day is torture. When I finally meet Mia and Cherie in the kitchen for dinner, it’s all I can think about. I don’t want to stare at him through dinner, but I’m going to be so worried. He’ll feel it. He’s perceptive, so he’ll know I’m anxious. Will he think it’s because of the secret love I basically told him all about, or because I brought up Beth, and that’s a big no-no?
I’m so high-strung about all that could go wrong at dinner, when Cherie finally says she’s going to go to the study to do drinks, I volunteer to go in her stead.
My palms sweat as I make my way there. I press them against the fabric of my expensive dress, breathing in and out, coaching myself to be normal. I can’t walk in there with fear in my eyes. I can’t do anything else that might make him suspicious.
My gaze goes straight to him when I enter the room. He looks especially intimidating today in a sharp black suit, a snowy white shirt and the gold tie I got him for Christmas secured perfectly around his neck. My mind locks on the tie, my paranoia nearly matching his as I wonder if he wore it on purpose. His thoughts on my flub last night, on who I might’ve been texting in bed—he would see that I was texting, but I can’t imagine he would’ve been able to zoom in well enough to read them. His cameras are good, but they’re not that good. While thinking about me and my duplicity, perhaps he selected a tie I got him.
He flicks a glance at the door when he hears it open, but he expects to see Cherie so his gaze moves away in a practiced response before jumping back to me, faintly surprised.
&nb
sp; I rarely do drinks. Probably another not so great idea, shaking it up like this, but I couldn’t stand the idea of waiting until dinner. I’ve been anxious about it for hours already.
I flash him a smile that verges on apologetic. I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for—my presence, last night, the secret he has already figured out I’m keeping from him? I don’t know, it’s just my natural inclination to go repentant when I know I’ve fucked up.
I go to the alcohol cart and fix him a drink first. When I deliver it to him at his desk, I don’t know whether to be relieved or further apprehensive when his lips curve up slightly and he asks, “None for you today?”
I roll my eyes, manufacturing a smile to give back. “I think I’m good for a few years.”
His low laughter reassures me as he looks down at the amber liquid in his glass. My heart beats double time as I head back to the alcohol cart, the first shot of premature relief coursing through my veins. Maybe he didn’t catch it.
He could be lulling me into a false sense of security, though. I fix drinks for Adrian and Alec next. Alec is in a fine mood, as usual, but Adrian is surly as hell. I hand him his drink and he throws back the entire glass, handing it back to me. I blink, then I go to get him some more.
I hand him his second drink and place a light hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He glances up at me, and the sadness in his eyes makes my heart hurt.
“Everything okay?” I ask quietly.
“Fantastic,” he mutters, taking a more reasonable sip.
I make a note to keep his glass full. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but clearly something is. He’s pretty gruff oftentimes, but not like this.
My heart feels heavy with new worries as I grab drinks for Vince and Joey.
I wish I could talk to Sal. I obviously can’t, but I need his energy to even out the weight of all the heaviness around this place today. Mateo’s not even in a bad mood today, so it’s not him this time. Usually it’s him. He’s pretty even-tempered for the most part, but I think he just bottles his feelings up, and then when the lid pops off, the whole house is affected.
I’m lucky I didn’t trigger bedlam last night by bringing up Beth. The longer I’m in the room keeping an eye on him, the less concerned I am.
Mateo comes over to the cart for a refill since I didn’t keep a good enough eye on his glass, and I use the pocket of privacy to ask, “What’s wrong with Adrian?”
Mateo rolls his eyes, grabbing his decanter and filling his own glass. “The talk with Elise didn’t go as well as he hoped.”
My eyes widen. “She said no?”
He replaces the decanter. “Doesn’t matter. I told him not to worry about it; he still has a few more months. He’ll get her eventually, just not today.”
“But if she doesn’t want to go…”
Mateo rolls his eyes. “I could sell condoms to a nun, Francesca; I can sell Elise on Adrian.”
“This is your fault, you know,” I remark. “You shouldn’t have let her have even a little bit of hope. She’s going to pass up a great guy to nurse a hopeless crush on you.”
His eyes twinkle with amusement as he meets mine. “Gee, thanks.”
“You have to fix this,” I tell him, seriously.
“I will,” he says, like it was already a foregone conclusion.
“I could talk to her,” I offer. “She knows how great Adrian is, but I could totally talk him up if you want me to.”
Mateo shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink. “Don’t bother. Scaring people off is my specialty; I really don’t need any assistance.”
At least he’s self-aware, I guess.
I spot Adrian’s empty glass again, so I grab the decanter and go over to fill it for him.
Adrian’s normally the easiest person during drinks—he frequently gets his own, because his mom was a maid and he doesn’t like women serving him. Not tonight, though. Tonight he doesn’t move from his chair and he runs my ass off keeping his glass full. I feel so bad, I want to hug him. He’s not really a hugger, so I don’t, but I want to.
Finally, I refill the last drink and head for the door. Dinner starts soon, and I need to get back and make sure Mia and Cherie have things running smoothly without me. I probably shouldn’t have left them to their own devices. Cherie knows how to handle dinner, but Mia’s still fairly new. I’m glad I did, though. I feel a lot less anxious about my own problems.
I make it out into the hallway, presumably in the clear, and then I hear Mateo call out behind me, “Francesca, one more thing.”
My heart stops.
All of a sudden sweat breaks out across my forehead. Mateo doesn’t chase people out into the hall. This cannot be good.
I swallow, then I slowly turn back to face him. “Yes?”
He glances back into the study, then pulls the door shut behind him, separating us from the people inside. Oh, God. He doesn’t want anyone to hear. This is going to be so bad. I’m so busted. He knows. What am I going to do?
Only he doesn’t drop the bomb I expect, maybe a smirk laced with malice as he casually tells me to tell Salvatore he says hi.
Instead he says, “Have Mia bring me my dinner tonight.”
It takes a few seconds for me to legitimately wrap my head around this order. What? Why? She’s Vince’s girl; she’s only supposed to serve Vince. This order doesn’t make any sense. My brain literally can’t process it.
“What about Vince?” I ask, my mind searching for purchase in this unfamiliar territory, but I just can’t. For 28 years I’ve been in this family, serving them on Sundays for over a decade, and I’ve never encountered a request like this one.
“She can serve him, too. She’ll serve both of us for now,” he says.
For now?
I’m still drowning in confusion, but the only possibilities I can reach are bad. Really bad. Dread rolls over me and I recall other words I spoke last night, about how he needs to move on. This is so not what I meant.
He doesn’t wait for me to argue with him though. He doesn’t explain himself, because he doesn’t have to. His order has been issued, so he takes a step back and opens the study door, dismissing me with a nod and going back to his command post.
Chapter Twenty Two
A pall falls over the Morelli homestead.
It starts slow, with Mia serving Mateo at dinner. It’s unprecedented so no one entirely understands what it means, but we all know it can’t be good. Vince definitely knows it can’t be good. He’s been paranoid about Mateo trying to break them up to begin with, but now this? It’s aggressive. It’s intentionally embarrassing for Vince, and even though I know Mateo isn’t fucking Mia, it makes me wonder if he’s about to.
I try to avert the crisis I may have partially triggered. I try telling Mia it will be fine, to just keep her focus on Vince. I know Mateo can be pretty damn convincing if he sets his sights on something, but I hold out hope that he doesn’t really want Mia, he’s just playing some kind of ultimately harmless game. I hope Mateo is only baring his teeth, only threatening. I hope he won’t really bite anyone, but he dashes those hopes in grand fashion.
I tell myself he must’ve already intended on doing something like this. He isn’t so easily influenced or impulsive that my drunken advice about moving on would’ve pushed him to do something with so many aftershocks. It’s not my fault Vince is a mess. It’s not my fault Mia is hidden away in Mateo’s bedroom.
It feels a little like my fault, though.
Mia stops showing up to dinner. I guess she probably can’t face Vince, which I sort of understand. I can’t go see Sal much anymore, because Mateo still comes, and we’re all so stressed out that I’m afraid to step out of line. He’s probably distracted with her since he likes new toys, but no one actually sees them together, so it’s impossible to know.
Until Elise comes to find me before she starts making dinner.
“I need to ask you a favor.”
I blink in surprise. “Sure, what can
I do for you?”
Clearing her throat, her gaze darts away from me. She brings it back, but it seems to take some discipline. “I need you to tell Mateo I changed my mind about Adrian. I want to go with him when he leaves.”
I’m not shocked that she changed her mind, but I am shocked she’s not jumping all over a chance to talk to Mateo alone. Maybe she thinks if she’s in front of him, she won’t be able to stick to it. Maybe she just wants to start conditioning herself to be loyal to Adrian. Either way, I approve.
“You don’t want to tell him yourself?” I ask, failing to hide my surprise. I would worry about embarrassing her, but it’s not like her crush on my brother is a well-kept secret. Anyone can see it if they spend more than five minutes watching her around him.
Elise shakes her head a little sadly, her eyes dropping. “I don’t want to be alone with him.”
I nod my understanding. This probably wasn’t an easy decision for her to come to, but maybe seeing him steal Mia from Vince was a wake-up call. Maybe she finally sees there’s no future for her with him—not that this affair with Mia is likely to last, but it probably makes her jealous. Elise has been here under his nose for years, longing for him, and now Mia shows up, not even available, and snags his interest.
“For what it’s worth, you’re making the right choice,” I tell her. “Adrian is a wonderful man and he absolutely adores you. I know you like Mateo, but—”
“I don’t like Mateo anymore,” she states, more resolutely than I’ve ever heard Elise before. Her blue-eyed gaze rises to mine, a little fire behind them. “You know he’s hurting her in there, right? She’s not in his bed because she wants to be. He’s raping her.”
My stomach bottoms out and I start shaking my head before I’m even aware of what I’m doing. “What? No. No, he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that.”
Her eyes widen and she nods. “I changed the sheets. I saw her. She’s not in good shape.”
“I’m sure you misunderstood,” I attempt again, refusing to believe this.
“She made it pretty clear. She wanted me to know what he was doing to her.”