by Sam Mariano
“Just put it off one week. Let her catch her breath from all the shit you guys have done to her, then throw her to the wolves if you still have something to prove.”
“I can’t,” I state, less patiently. “I can’t have her under my roof anymore. It was a mistake to move her in. All of this has been a mistake. I should’ve killed her in front of Vince the day I found out about her. Bastard would’ve thought twice before keeping another secret from me with that memory lodged in his brain.”
“You didn’t think it was a mistake yesterday,” he states.
That’s exactly why it was a mistake. I didn’t think it was a mistake yesterday. Just yesterday I fooled myself into thinking I could have her. Then at the first opportunity, she left.
At the next opportunity, she’ll talk.
I’ve been down this road before. I memorized the roadside signs and I recall all too clearly the destination.
That’s one mistake I won’t be making twice.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Vince responded, “Fuck you.”
I crack a smile and put my phone away without texting back.
He’ll show up. He may balk and rage, but the little bastard will be in the gym, right where I told him to be.
Alec comes back in, glancing at the twisted, bloody body in the floor. Turning his gaze to me, he announces, “Xander’s on his way.”
I nod my head. “You can stay here and wait for him. We’re gonna head out.”
Alec frowns. “Where are you going?”
“We’re gonna grab breakfast,” I state.
“No, we’re not,” Adrian disagrees, glancing from Leroy to Alec. “You stay in here, I’ll go outside and keep an eye out for Xander. When they get here, I’ll take you both home.”
Pressing my lips together in a knowing sort of smile, I ask, “Lose your appetite?”
“Hell of a thing,” Adrian tosses back, curtly.
Well, it was nice while it lasted, I guess.
I take one last look at Leroy, then I head for the car to wait for Adrian to drive us home.
---
Mia doesn’t talk.
I give her a few days to change her mind. A few more lonely nights spent thinking about her as I try to sleep in my own bed. I’m certainly logging more gym time right now. More surveillance time, too, though. Too much surveillance time.
I need to get her out of my house. Every night that I go to bed, I’m more and more tempted to take her back. Monday night passes and we don’t go out to dinner—she disappears with Vince instead. Tuesday comes and goes with no Mia sightings.
Wednesday I send for her.
She didn’t talk to the cops, but she didn’t tell anyone they spoke to her, either. I want to see if I can give her a little nudge. Is she keeping a door open, or is she distracted by all the bullshit we’ve put her through in the last week and she isn’t thinking about it?
This will be the first time she’s seen me since she left me at the dining room table and went off with Vince. I wonder if she’s dreading the meeting that I so look forward to.
When she appears at my door, I feel warmer. Some of the tension the last few days have built up within me dissipates. I’ve missed her. My gaze roams over her body, the girly red dress she selected for dinner tonight. She’s tense, probably worried how it will be to see me again. Morelli men are not famously good at accepting rejection and hers certainly stung, but seeing her now only makes me happy.
Briefly, I reconsider my plan to get her out of my house. Do I really want to move her in with Vince? I could just keep her here.
I feel myself obsessing, though. If I keep her under my roof, I’m going to steal her back from him. I won’t be able to help myself. I want her too much, and even though she chose him, I still think she chose wrong. He doesn’t appreciate all that Mia has to offer. He has absolutely no idea what to do with her.
She’s young, though. People make mistakes when they’re young.
I can’t help reminding Mia of the pull I have on her when she’s in my study. She tries to step out of line now that she’s back with Vince, but I swiftly remind her of her place.
I tell her about the poker game I’m hosting tomorrow night. I tell her she’s going to my cigar girl.
I offer her a chance to keep it secret from Vince, but she declines. Another bad choice. I have every intention of fucking her tomorrow night and it would benefit her relationship to keep that secret.
She tries for honesty, though. It’s the wrong call, but I don’t bother telling her so.
By the time she leaves, I swear I sense relief in her. Maybe she expected me to be like Vince, petty and punishing. Even Adrian convinced himself I was punishing her with the test.
She passed, though. Mia didn’t talk, even when we gave her every reason to.
They come to dinner afterward, the first night since Sunday. Vince’s face is still fucked up. It makes me happy to look at my busted knuckles and know they’re responsible.
A little less happy when I think about my own scratches. While Elise serves the salads, I run a hand along my neck like I’m itching it, but really I just draw Mia’s attention there. Her eyes widen at the sight of the marks she left on my flesh, then she darts a look at Vince to make sure he didn’t notice. Finally, her gaze falls to her plate and doesn’t come back up until it’s empty and someone comes to clear it away.
At the end of the meal she leaves the dining room with Vince, and I’m alone again.
The poker game is the most enjoyable one I’ve been to in a while. Of course, it could be because Mia is here. It doesn’t hurt at all that I dressed her up like a good little slut, and every time she moves, I catch a tempting glimpse of ass or cleavage, something to remind me of her naked body and get me hard.
It’s torture, but the good kind.
The guys don’t know she’s anything more than an ordinary cigar girl so they’re assholes, but they cause her to turn to me for help.
It’s a good fucking night.
Then Conroy and Hernandez show up and it becomes a great fucking night.
Mia comes to me. She tells me about the threat.
She passes her test with flying fucking colors.
She makes me happy.
I can’t keep my hands off her, but she doesn’t want me to. She tells herself she does, but she’s lying. Her eyes tell me the truth. Her hand on my cock tells me the truth.
Finally, fucking finally, I get to fuck Mia again. She’s present, past orgasm denial, and perhaps most importantly, not broken.
I might be, though. I no more than stop fucking this girl who isn’t mine and I already want her again. She asks what happens if she’s pregnant, and I hope to God she is. If I got her pregnant, I can take her back. Whatever it takes to get Mia back in my bed, I’m game.
I poked holes in the condom I brought with me tonight. A woman’s trick, but I wanted to try one more time. One more chance to trap her little ass.
Hopefully it works, and all my noble sacrifices will be for nothing. It’s not often I hope I’m wasting my time, but if it puts Mia back in my bed, the effort isn’t wasted.
---
I think I hate my bedroom now.
I think I hate my whole house.
I think maybe I hate everything.
Everything but this decanter full of alcohol, keeping the feelings at bay. Well, sort of. They’re swimming all over the place, but I don’t have to feel them. I just have to drown them.
I didn’t plan to do this. I’ve successfully exorcized the damn girl form my house, so I should be able to move on with my life.
I already miss her.
My trip to Dubai is coming up. I’m going alone, but since I had to go and invite her along, I know I’ll think about her the whole time I’m there.
At least I planned it when she has extra time off school. Better to be out of the country than at home, tempted to head into the security room and see what she’s up to.
I reach beside me for the decan
ter. It feels heavier than usual; I think I’m drunker than I’ve been in a long time.
My drunken self comes up with a wonderful plan. Gas leak. I could just blow up the fucking duplex with Vince sleeping inside—boom, then Mia’s single again.
I drink a little more, telling myself what a good idea that is.
Oh, or I could hire a freelancer to set up a fake robbery. Make sure Mia’s out of the house but Vince is there. Boom, dead again, Mia’s single.
There are so many ways to kill him. I just need to pick one and execute it. I’ll lock Mia up in my room again. Why should I give a fuck if she wants to be there or not? She got used to be once, she can do it again.
More alcohol, and I’m convinced there’s no reason. Nope. None. These plans are perfect. I could do any of them.
Goddammit, Mia was right. I am fucking lonely.
And I scared off Mia. The most forgiving person alive, probably.
It was only supposed to be one more night, but I never got to tell her. I thought about telling her on the way home from the poker game, in the backseat of the Escalade. I imagined the ride home—imagined her asking me questions, trying to figure out which pieces of those days were real and which pieces an act. I imagined telling her that Saturday was real until I was an asshole. Then it wasn’t real anymore. There are plenty of Jessicas in the world, but none that interest me. From the moment Mia landed in my bed, I didn’t want to fuck anyone but her.
Only, she didn’t talk to me on the way home. She kept to herself, lost in her own thoughts. She probably didn’t feel great about fucking me, even if it was to get her and Vince out of my house. In our room during those days, it was different. Vince had given her up, he’d left her, she was free to be mine.
The night of the poker game she belonged to him, so fucking me made her feel guilty. That guilt probably made her try harder to make it up to him instead of pulling her toward me, even though she’s clearly still attracted. Instead of spilling the truth all over the place and changing her mind, I waited to see if she had anything to say to me in the relative privacy of my backseat. Consequently, we sat together in silence and went our separate ways once we were back at the house.
Mia slipped right through my fingers.
“What are you doing up?”
I keep my gaze on the fire roaring in front of me as Francesca interrupts my solo drinking. I’m not much for company right now, but I guess I don’t feel like being alone either.
I try to shrug. My head feels too heavy to move. Fuck, I am drunk.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks.
I think about my bed—my vengefully empty bed. It mocks me now. Maria has changed the sheets every morning since Mia left, but still I can feel her absence. The glow, the joy, the something to look forward to at the end of my day…
It’s all gone.
Because Mia’s gone.
It’s going to be a long night, a long week, a long month.
Maybe it’s the expensive liquor filling my head with such thoughts, but I can’t help feeling it’s going to be a long life without Mia.
Even now I’m tempted to go in my security room and watch her sleep in the new house I gave her, in the new bed I bought her, with the lucky asshole who gets to keep her.
He doesn’t deserve her.
I didn’t either.
I needed her, though.
I needed her.
SURVIVING MATEO
Takes place during chapter 8 of Surviving Mateo, when Meg is serving drinks in Mateo’s study, then following when she meets Mia and grills her for sex tips.
The New Maid
Mateo
I’m not sure how I feel about Meg taking it upon herself to take my daughter under her wing. I can feel her watching me, waiting for some response to what she just said, wondering what the big deal is. Whether it was a calculated move to try to get closer to me or just her maternal instincts kicking in, I can’t be sure. I don’t even care why; I just wish she hadn’t done it.
I don’t introduce Isabella to women. It hadn’t occurred to me Meg would go ahead and introduce herself without me—though I guess it should have, since her daughter is near the same age. Now she’s telling me my daughter and hers are fast friends and they’re all spending time together. I didn’t okay that. She should have asked me, not Ju.
There’s not much I can do about it now, but I’m not sure I like it.
Isabella has already experienced the loss of Beth; I don’t want her getting attached to the new maid if I’m not going to keep her around.
Vince breaks the silence.
“New maid?”
Meg turns her attention to him now, her gaze moving to his glass, then to his face, unsure whether he was addressing her or asking me. She answers anyway, giving him her name. “Meg. You need something?”
He shakes his head. I’m faintly surprised to see his gaze rake over her—she does fill out this maid’s uniform quite well, but it’s not Vince’s style. He has Mia at home, for Christ’s sake. I’d punch him in the face again if he thought he needed more than he already has.
“Nope, just never seen you before,” he answers, his gaze settling on her face. “How’d you luck into this job?”
“Head hunter,” Meg shoots back, without missing a beat. “Saw my resume, made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
My lips curve up in faint amusement.
Then Vince tells her, “You’re pretty.”
My gaze snaps to Vince.
I hear Meg say, “Oh, thank you,” but I’m significantly more interested in monitoring his response than hers.
“Don’t tell Mia,” I say, watching him for a reaction. “If she’s not allowed to talk to the baker, I don’t think you’re allowed to check out my maid.”
Vince rolls his eyes at me and takes a drink. “I don’t disallow her to talk to the baker. I just don’t like the guy.”
Whatever his reason for checking out my new maid, the idea of another guy who might be trying to creep up on his turf gets Vince’s focus back where it should be. The mere mention of Francesca’s baker makes him cagey—he’s trying not to show it, but I can tell. I’ve fucked with this kid enough to know when he’s annoyed.
“You don’t like any guy,” I toss back, my eyes glinting with amusement.
He shoots me a none too subtle look. “Can you blame me?”
Remembering Meg, I glance back at her and gesture in Vince’s direction. “This is my cousin Vince, by the way. He doesn’t like guys.”
Meg barely holds back a smile. “I heard.” Glancing his way, she tells him, “I’m Meg the maid; I do.”
I watch Vince for a reaction—is she just being cheeky, or lightly flirting? It’s not always a clear distinction with her and Vince doesn’t even know her as well as I do, so he’ll probably take that as lightly flirtatious. His face shows no obvious signs of interest, but I can see he’s about to respond. I’m very interested in further monitoring this interaction.
Joey butts in like a fucking mosquito and interrupts whatever Vince might have said to throw his hat in the ring. “Is that right?”
Faintly irritated at his interruption, I shut him down. “Nope.”
Vince’s gaze cuts straight to me, his eyes wide with surprise. I don’t initially understand why, then his gaze moves back to the maid and he looks a little more interested. It takes me a second to do the math, but as I watch him digest my response to Joey trying to flirt with my maid, I realize Vince ran it through his filter and mistook my annoyance for jealousy.
Now he looks slightly calmer. He’s no longer threatening to break the glass with his death grip. His gaze drifts back to Meg again with a different kind of interest, like maybe she’s the answer to his prayers.
Huh.
The maid’s trying to get my attention so I stop watching Vince and turn my attention back to her. “Should I go check on the ladies?” she asks with a pleasant smile. “See if they need help?”
“Please do.”
&
nbsp; With a little nod of acknowledgement, she pivots and gives the guys a little wave before departing the room.
As soon as Meg is gone, Vince looks back at me. He’s trying for casual, but he’s too curious to pull it off. “She seems cool,” he says.
I nod my head. “She is.”
“I take it she’s your new plaything? Planning to keep this one, or…?”
“We’ll see,” I answer, watching him as I take a sip of my drink.
Joey pipes in. “Well, if you decide to throw her back when you’re done, I call dibs. Just make sure you let her keep the maid uniform.”
I fight the urge to smirk at my younger brother—can’t smirk at him wanting to bang my maid if I’m supposed to be territorial over her. Vince is still watching me, so I keep my face carefully blank and take a more deliberate sip before cutting an unpleasant look in Joey’s direction.
Joey’s eyebrows rise and he holds his hands up in good-natured surrender. “Hey, I said when you’re done. That’s more consideration than you’ve shown some people in this room.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Vince mutters at Joey.
“Can we not?” Alec agrees, eyeballing Joey.
“What they said,” Adrian adds.
Vince is still aggravated that Joey had to go and remind him I fucked Mia, but he’s not as angry about it as he has been. I know he isn’t fully over it, so I attribute his tamed annoyance to the maid. It’s the only difference. Ordinarily if Joey stirs up shit—and it’s always Joey busting his balls, since they’re such good friends—it legitimately pisses Vince off. Tonight he treats it more as a minor aggravation. Granted, it hasn’t come up here in a couple of months, but the last fight I caught between them, the little prick threw it in Mia’s face straight away. Naturally, she doesn’t adequately defend herself when he does either. Really pisses me off.
I’ll have to pop into my security room for a bit after they leave tonight so I can see if he says anything to her about it.