by Sam Mariano
That snags Mateo’s attention. His sharp gaze drifts to my face and he seems to realize he’s dreading the day I’ve been dreaming about since it was an impossibility. Catching my left hand, he brings it to his lips and places a kiss on my knuckles, near the beautiful ring he gave me. “I never married Meg because she wasn’t you,” he states. “Making you my wife is worth one day of hassle.”
I beam, leaning in and kissing him. I can’t resist bringing a hand up to lovingly caress his strong jaw line. God, I’m a lucky woman.
Still holding my free hand, Mateo runs his thumb across my knuckles. “Speaking of hassle, I wanted to talk to you about a security matter. Remember when I said you’re no longer allowed to leave the house without someone guarding you?”
I nod my head.
“Well, I’ve given it further thought and updated that particular mandate. From now on, Adrian is your exclusive bodyguard. I don’t want you to go anywhere outside this house without him.”
I blink in surprise, glancing at Adrian, then back at Mateo. “But Adrian’s your bodyguard.”
Nodding once, his face tells me I might not like this next part. “Yes. So unless we go somewhere together, let’s keep it to one day a week. You can have him one day a week to go do whatever you want, the rest of the time…”
“I’m on lockdown,” I say, nodding.
“Or you could just stop ruining my fun and let me kill Vince,” he suggests casually.
“Nope.” I shake my head, injecting a little more brightness into my tone. “That’s fine. I like the house. There’s plenty to do here. I don’t spend enough time at the pool anyway.”
Mateo rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. We both know he could take the matter out of my hands and solve it for me, but since it involves killing Vince, we also know he won’t. I lean in to give him another little kiss to express my gratitude for his restraint.
I’ve debated whether or not to say anything about this, but at the end of the day, I think it’s better safe than sorry. I’ve bet on people and lost too many times and the wager on this one is just too high.
My gaze drops to my lap where Mateo’s hand rests on my thigh. I’m afraid to say anything to make this already suspicious man more suspicious, but I’ll never be able to forgive myself if I don’t say anything and it turns out I should have. “While we’re on the subject of security concerns, I have one.”
Mateo appears mildly surprised. It only feeds my anxiety.
“Go on,” he says.
“First I need you to listen and not jump to any conclusions. I’m just being abundantly cautious because… well, sometimes I’m not and it ends up costing me big time, but this is something I don’t want to take a risk on.”
Nodding once in acknowledgement of my terms, Mateo says, “I understand.”
“I think you need to give Meg a loyalty test.”
For someone so closely guarded, his eyebrows rise and his jaw goes slack. He goes to speak, then stops, apparently at a loss for words.
Several seconds of silence pass before I finally explain myself. “She said something to me that was probably completely harmless and just Meg being Meg and talking too much. But she mentioned how she wants to do her own thing now and start making legitimate money removed from you. Then she added—again, probably harmlessly, I’m just getting my Morelli paranoia on—something about how just in case you ever get caught doing your less… legal endeavors, so the kids wouldn’t be penniless while your accounts were all frozen. Now, I don’t think Meg would turn on you, I just think it’s worth checking out. Obviously don’t give her the loyalty test you gave me, but one more suited to this situation. I think a good way would be to either pour some money into her business or make up her coming into money somehow—I’ll leave the details to you, that’s more your thing. Then once she knows she has enough money to stand on her own, send your cop friends who chatted with me to try to get information from her. Just to make sure there are no sour grapes and she’s not secretly plotting your downfall, ‘cause, you know, that would epically piss me off.”
I can feel Adrian’s eyes still on me. I meet Mateo’s gaze straight-on, but neither man speaks.
“And as long as she’s loyal, it shouldn’t matter. If you have a better idea, obviously go with yours. I just want to make sure she hasn’t come up with some revenge plot. I don’t actually know how the break-up went down. I don’t know how her brain works. I don’t want to stir suspicion unjustly; I just want to make sure she wouldn’t try to hurt you.”
I’m not sure what to expect, but a slow smile crosses Mateo’s face. There’s clear approval on his face, but this is the first time I’ve wondered if I was earning that approval for doing something bad.
He doesn’t give me time to wonder. He catches me around the back of the neck and pulls me in for a hard kiss. As his lips work their magic, he seems to suck the anxiety right out of me. By the time he’s done, I’m thoroughly kissed and not a speck of discomfort remains.
“We’ll look into it,” he says simply, his hand lightly caressing my hip. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
While I’m riding the high of surprising them with my vigilance, I lean back, meet his gaze, and tell him, “I’m also not comfortable with you guys snuggling together when you’re ignoring my text messages.”
He frowns lightly—not with disapproval, just confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Before the last doctor’s appointment when things were weird because of the baby. You didn’t come to bed and you weren’t answering your phone. I went looking for you and you and Meg were snuggling. Post sister wives. I’m not sharing anymore, so I don’t think I should have to walk in on stuff like that now.”
“I can’t remember the last time I snuggled with Meg,” he states. “But it surely hasn’t been since you went missing, let alone since we found out you were pregnant. I don’t know what you saw, but you’re mistaken.”
“You were eating ice cream. She called you a Gremlin,” I state. “I’m not sure what that meant—isn’t that a demon or something? Like a… wait, maybe that’s a goblin. I don’t know, it was weird.”
“Oh, my god,” Adrian says, falling back in his wing chair and covering his face. “She doesn’t know what a Gremlin is.”
I frown at Adrian as he grins into his hands and shakes his head, then back at Mateo, who smirks in response.
“The Gremlin is not the point here,” I say, trying to bring us back to the point.
“We were sitting on the same piece of furniture. We weren’t snuggling,” Mateo states.
“I watched her rest her head on your shoulder. She tried to feed you ice cream from her bowl. You guys were super close.”
He grasps his heart in a blatantly mocking gesture. “How close?”
“It’s not funny,” I object. “It hurt my feelings.”
His amusement melts and he adopts a more serious expression. “All right. I didn’t know that. Thank you for telling me.”
His agreement comes too easily and throws me off. I didn’t expect to argue, we rarely argue, but as much as I’ve been putting it off, I expected more pushback than that. “That’s it?”
Quirking a curious eyebrow, light amusement dances in the depths of his handsome brown eyes. “Did you want me to argue?”
“I don’t know.”
He watches me for a few seconds, then abruptly changes the subject. “Is this what you’re wearing to dinner?”
I glance down at my dress, mildly surprised that we jumped that many tracks in this conversation. “I was planning on it. Do you not like it?”
“It’s pretty,” he assures me, his hand sliding up my thigh. “But you should wear the new one I bought you—the white one with red roses.”
I smile faintly, catching his devious hand as it moves too far up my thigh. “All right.”
“No panties,” he adds.
I grin, leaning in to kiss his neck. “Yes, sir.”
“I hate pant
ies,” he states.
“You do not.” I trail a hand down his chest, creeping down his abdomen and lightly brushing his crotch. “You love to peel them off.”
Adrian interjects. “Do I really need to be here for this?”
Mateo grins, steals one last kiss, then boots me off his lap. He gives me a smack on the ass to ease the dismissal, telling me, “We need to finish up in here. You go change and I’ll see you at dinner.”
Chapter Thirty Two
Mia
I sigh, falling back into the pillowy softness of our bed. Mateo climbs on top of me, playfully lifting an eyebrow before swooping down and burying his face in my neck. God, I love when he’s playful.
My arms slide up his muscular back. I drag my fingernails down the stiff white fabric of his dress shirt, then let my hands travel down to grab his ass, pulling him against me.
“We have so many clothes on,” I complain, just before his lips make it to my mouth.
His deep voice sends shivers running up and down my spine. “But you’re not wearing panties.”
He catches me around the waist and rolls me over, yanking me on top of him. His hands move down to my ass. He squeezes, mimicking what I just did, but it’s so much sexier when he does it.
His hand is just about between my legs when we hear a knock at the door.
Groaning as he hauls me off to his side and gets off the bed, I say, “Tell Adrian to go away.”
“That’s not Adrian’s knock.” He opens the door and looks down at the dark-haired three-year-old in footed pajamas standing at the door. She has a book tucked under her tiny arm and she looks up at Mateo, all business. “May I help you?” he asks.
Her little messy bun bobs as she nods. “We need to have a talk.” Without awaiting permission to enter, she breezes past his leg and strides over to the bed.
“Oh, do we?” he asks, closing the door and following her.
She nods, pushing her book up on our bed so she can try to pull herself up. Our bed is pretty tall, so Mateo comes up behind her and gives her a boost.
“What do we need to talk about?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“The Gruffalo,” she says, stretching her pajama-clad legs in front of her and grabbing her book.
He gives her a lightly narrowed, playfully suspicious look. “The Gruffalo? What’s a gruffalo?”
She grins, and I don’t really understand why. “Why, didn’t you know?”
This sounds more like a skit than a conversation, but I’m lost.
Moving on, Mateo states, “You already got your bedtime story tonight.”
“Yeah, but you read it better than Mommy,” she informs him. Her face is innocent, but I don’t buy it. She’s only three, but she already knows how to get what she wants.
“If we give you all the bedtime stories you request, you’ll never sleep,” Mateo points out.
“I don’t like sleeping all the time,” she states. But, seeing the tides are not in her favor, she turns around and crawls over to me. Once she’s situated in my lap, she says, “Mia didn’t get a bedtime story. Let’s read it to her.”
Lightly amused, he meets my gaze. “I was just about to tell her a bedtime story when you came in.”
“It was going to have a very happy ending,” I agree, nodding.
“Well, this one is better than that one,” Rosalie decrees, opening the book and turning to the first page. Flashing her big brown puppy dog eyes at him, she adds, “Please, Daddy?”
The little boss has defeated the big boss tonight. With an indulgent roll of his eyes, he climbs across the bed and takes the book. “We’ll read it once, then you’re going to bed.”
Rosalie claps her hands, looking up at me with a victorious smile. I hold up my hand and she gives an answering high five.
Mateo settles in beside us and starts reading the book. I’m not normally present for their bedtime routine, but his practiced command over the words and Rosalie’s recitation between giggles leads me to conclude this must be how they always read this story. It’s a cute book, probably a million times cuter because it’s Mateo reading it. For all the stories this manipulative man has told in his time, this is by far the most adorable.
My poor heart barely makes it through the book without exploding. Mateo reads his lines with relish, Rosalie comes in with hers then collapses into giggles of delight, and I’m so consumed with tenderness for both of them I could burst. She’s in my lap so I can already squeeze her, but this little performance is making me want to jump Mateo’s bones even more than I did prior to the interruption.
After the story ends, Mateo hauls Rosalie back to bed. I take the opportunity to rid myself of my pesky clothing and burrow underneath the blankets.
Mateo reenters the room, closing the door behind him and meeting my gaze. “Now, where were we?”
“Oh, I’m a step ahead of you,” I assure him, nodding toward the dress. “Clothes have no place here.”
He smirks as he unbuttons his shirt. “Women and bedtime stories, I swear. I should’ve skipped straight to that move and saved myself a lot of plays.”
I can’t help smiling. “Yeah, you really should’ve. Remember when we were in here the first time and you mentioned you had been reading Isabella a bedtime story? You should’ve made me watch. Then sent your cops to talk to me. I would’ve been like, ‘leave that man alone, he reads to his daughter.’”
“Eh, you covered my ass anyway,” he says, peeling his shirt off and going to work on his pants. “I got the right result, regardless of my method.”
“I’m just saying.”
“My way led us here,” he states.
“Um, that would have, too. Much faster. You in daddy mode makes me crazy. You could’ve swept me right off my feet if you’d played that card sooner.”
He shrugs, faintly shaking his head. “Women.”
I roll my eyes at him. “It’s not a woman thing. You have kids. Didn’t it make you all warm inside when you first found out you were going to be a father? When the baby kicked and you got to feel it for the first time? When you looked at ultrasound pictures? Didn’t it make you all lovey to see Meg’s belly growing, knowing your baby was in there? Don’t answer that last one, obviously,” I add, quickly.
He does anyway, as he drapes his shirt across the chair. “None of that made me feel warmth or desire.”
I cock my head to the side. “No? When did it kick in, then? When the babies were born?”
“When did what kick in?” he asks mildly, ditching his last article of clothing and hitting the lights.
I frown slightly as he heads to the bed. “The…” I trail off, unsure how to explain it. The moment I realized I was pregnant, my affection for the little bundle growing in my womb rooted itself deep inside my soul. I don’t know how to describe the feeling, but he’s already a parent—I expected him to know exactly what I’m talking about.
“Desire for a woman because she’s having my child?”
That’s not what I was talking about, but I shrug.
“Doesn’t do anything for me. A stranger could have my child. Why would that make me feel anything for her?”
“Because of the connection implied?”
“What connection? That we’ve had sex before? I’ve had sex with plenty of women I’ve had no feelings for. It didn’t mean anything. Why would a pregnancy change that?”
Grimacing, I shake my head and wave my arms in front of myself in a halting motion. “All right, shut it down. I don’t want to hear about that, it makes me ragey.”
I expect him to be amused by my possessiveness, but he’s frowning at me. It’s a puzzled frown, like I’ve just given him new information. It throws me. There’s no way that’s news. I hate thinking of him having sex with anyone who isn’t me, whether he knew me at the time or not.
Then he asks, his words more alarming than his tone, “Do you feel that way? Do you feel having a baby necessarily breeds some sort of emotional connection between a woman an
d the man who impregnated her?”
Every receptor in my brain grabs a red flag and waves it frantically. My stomach twists with anxiety for more reasons than I have time to process. The leading reason, obviously, that I am currently pregnant with someone else’s baby. Not something he was thrilled about, obviously. Being that I’m a normal human being, I assumed he had already included that issue in his rundown when he was processing the disaster of my pregnancy. I assumed one of the reasons he didn’t want me to have this baby was exactly that—he knew it would make me feel a certain tie to the Vince, and Vince is maybe the last man alive Mateo wants me having ties to.
Right now I experience a moment of mild horror as I realize maybe he didn’t think of that. Whatever his reasons for not wanting me to have this child, however flawed I think they may have been, the valid one didn’t occur to him.
My heart gallops and my brain races, trying to keep up. I have to lie and I’m a terrible liar. He sees through people who can lie.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. I’m shaking my head with too much vehemence. I can feel it. I can see it on his face. My heart races faster, but I can’t stop shaking my head, like if I just shake it enough, he’ll believe me. “No, I don’t think that.”
“It’s what you just said,” he states.
“I misspoke. I mean, of course there can be a connection if it was already—” I cut myself off, realizing that’s not better. Vince and I have had an emotional connection in the past and apparently my part-robot fiancé doesn’t understand how feelings work in this instance. I read that completely wrong. I assumed part of why I’ve been sharing with Meg for four years despite Mateo’s feelings for me was their parental bond.
The expression on his face doesn’t change, but his eyes are chilly with in-progress calculation.
“When you and I have a child, that will… that will feel special. But only because we love each other. Right? I mean, you’ve said you wanted to have a baby with me, that you would love that, so… you…” I’m not saying anything at all, so I stop talking.
I think I know what he needs to hear, I just don’t know how to get there. I can blurt the answer, but it’s not what I actually believe; if he questions me further, I won’t know how to back it up. It will be like answering a complicated question in class because I cheated and read the answer off someone else’s homework.