Chapter One
Mia
“I never want to go back home.”
Two strong arms curl around me, pressing me against the balcony and keeping me close as I look out at the white sand beach, sparsely dotted with palm trees. The gentle ocean breeze blows my hair back. He releases one arm around me to bunch it up in one hand and tug the blond strands aside, clearing the way for him to kiss the nape of my neck. I close my eyes to savor the feeling, but only for a second; I don’t want to tear my eyes away from the ocean. Everything about this moment is perfect and I want to remember it forever.
“It’s so beautiful,” I murmur, my hand coming up to rest lightly on the back of his head as he buries it in my neck.
“It sure is.”
I smile at the sound of his rough voice in my ear. “You’re not even looking at the beach,” I point out.
“Then I must not have been talking about that,” he reasons, lightly. Still, he stops kissing my neck long enough to look out over the balcony at the beautiful Bahamian beach below.
“I love having you all to myself,” I tell him, giving in to a moment of selfish honesty.
Mateo’s voice is more solemn than usual as he answers, “I know. I do, too.”
Reality weighs on me for a moment. It usually doesn’t; after four years of sharing this wonderful man with Meg, I’m used to it. The thing is, I can handle him now. With Vince gone, he’s not hard to handle at all. It’s not all smooth sailing and beach vacations, of course; he’s still him. But now that all the big obstacles are out of way, he’s much more relaxed. I never need a break from him anymore. I may have needed Meg for training wheels when this first started, but now I’m fully capable of riding on my own.
I’m also completely confident he’s my soulmate. After four years, I still crave him like I did when I could only sit beside him at the dinner table, belonging to someone else.
Given our arrangement, he hasn’t married either of us. I look down at my left hand resting on the rail of the balcony. At the five carats of emerald cut Harry Winston on my finger. My ring is a lot bigger than Meg’s and significantly more expensive, but I think only because he knows I’m more into that kind of thing than she is. It’s perfect for me, but it wouldn’t suit Meg at all.
Hers was supposed to lead to an actual wedding, though. It hasn’t, not in four years. I think that’s my fault. He can’t marry her without not marrying me, so he doesn’t marry either of us.
I rarely ask about it. I’m as comfortable with him as someone can be, but I don’t like bugging him about that kind of thing for a lot of reasons. I don’t want to be a hassle, for one thing. I know it’s a complicated situation and he doesn’t like to discuss marital things, so I feel troublesome if I bring it up.
Also, I don’t want him to think I want Meg gone. I know I’m his favorite, and I know what he’s capable of; if he thought having her around hurt me in any way, I’m not completely sure he’d keep her around.
Which, considering she’s nearly five months pregnant with baby number two right now, you wouldn’t expect. But it turns out Meg was right—I can sorta wield him.
Her new pregnancy also makes me a little pissy though, because it’s been four damn years and she still won’t let me have his baby. I think it’s just a punishment at this point. She knows I’m his favorite, too. I think she likes that he lets her keep that stipulation, because we all know he doesn’t abide any rules he finds too restricting.
After four years, he’s never even let me go on the pill, even though he hates condoms, so he can maintain the freedom to change his mind on a dime. To keep the subtle threat there, maybe. Meg isn’t me, so she doesn’t like that side of him, but when she starts to aggravate him, he’ll whip it out to knock her back in line.
Here on our beachfront balcony, Mateo’s hand snakes inside the little triangle of black fabric covering my breast and I smile, leaning back against him. “We can’t have sex again. We need to go shopping.”
“I vehemently disagree with both of those statements,” he says, catching the weight of my breast in his hand.
“I promised Bella we’d bring back a souvenir.”
He sighs, extracting his hand from my bikini top. “This is supposed to be your birthday trip and you’re worried about getting gifts for everyone else.”
I turn in his arms, gazing up into his beautiful brown eyes. He’s even more tan than usual from spending six days down here in the sun, and he’s still as sexy as ever. I could’ve spent the whole vacation just staring at him and left satisfied.
“You’re my birthday gift,” I tell him, grinning like a cheese ball.
Rolling his eyes, he says, “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I sure am,” I agree, leaning up on my toes to steal a kiss before I break away from him and head back in the hotel room. “Now come on, get a shirt on so we can go buy stuff.”
He pulls the balcony door closed behind him and watches me find a dress from the closet and pull it on. I go in the bathroom to fix my hair—we spent the afternoon in bed and I probably should’ve showered again first, but my mind won’t be at ease until I have something to take back for Bella. She was so envious of this vacation. Many nights she spent lying tummy-down on my bed, scrolling through websites on my laptop, not-so-subtly pointing out all the cool family things we could do if we brought her with us. I even suggested it, but Mateo said no.
Typically our family vacations are the whole family—Meg, Lily, and Rosalie, as well. It’s not that we never have them; just not nearly as often. In four years, we’ve been on family vacations three times. Romantic getaways he usually alternates between me and Meg. This is the longest one he’s taken though—usually it’s two or three days, but for my 23rd birthday, he gave me a whole week alone with him in the Bahamas.
Seven amazing days.
At least, six of them have been. I have no worries that the last day will be, as well.
Everything is perfect with him.
---
“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Morelli.”
I squeeze Mateo’s hand unconsciously, a helpless grin creeping across my lips. I love this part of vacations. I’m regularly referred to as his wife by staff. Any hapless onlooker would think that—why wouldn’t they? They don’t know us here.
It’s wonderful. No bodyguards, no work, no sister wife, no well-known reputation. We’re just a man and woman who love each other. That’s it.
It’s nighttime now, our last night here. Mateo got us a reservation at a majestic beachfront restaurant. The waves lap at the shore right beside us. I can smell the salty ocean breeze as we follow the host to our table.
God, I don’t want to go home. It’s not even the beach; I’d go on vacation with him to a Motel 6 in the sticks—I just want to keep him all to myself.
That’s selfish, though. Surely Meg felt the same way when she had to suddenly open up her life to me, and she did that for both of us. It’s not always easy to share, but nothing about love is always easy.
The hostess seats us at a table for two, covered with a white linen cloth, a flickering candle at the center. Mateo pulls my chair out for me—he always does when we go out. Then he takes his seat on the other side, looking out over the ocean.
“We should get a beach house someday. When the new baby’s old enough to run things back home. That way he won’t have to kill me to take my power,” he adds, a little dryly, as he unrolls the silverware on the table.
“Adrian wants a beach house when he retires, too. Maybe we can be neighbors.”
Mateo smirks at me, relaxing back in the chair. “You and Adrian make plans for when he retires, huh? Does Elise know about this?”
I roll my eyes at him. I know he’s only teasing, but the idea that I’d ever want anyone else is so ridiculous, I can hardly even humor him. “Obviously I’ve been using you to get to him.”
“I knew it.”
“It was a very elaborate plan,” I continue.
“Too elaborate,” he determines, grabbing the menu and flipping it open. “You could never pull off a long con like that. Meg might be able to. Not you.”
“I could totally pull off a long con,” I tell him, even though I’m completely full of shit.
“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”
I wrinkle up my nose at him in mock-displeasure, but he turns his attention back to the menu, clearly amused by the mere idea. I’m only half-joking when I tell him, “Everyone always underestimates me.”
“That’s because you’re surrounded by people more wily than you. You’re an angel in the underworld. We can generally see right through you.”
I roll my eyes. “I am far from an angel.”
“Compared to me?” he asks, amused. “Sure you are.”
“Well, that’s not an average comparison. You’re exceedingly…” I pause, searching for a nice way to put it. I come up with nothing, so I look for him to save me, but he merely cocks his head, amused, waiting for me to go on. “Sexy,” I finally finish.
He chuckles, flipping over the drink menu. “Nice save.”
It’s easy to forget all the bad he’s done on a daily basis, but the lesson of last time I overestimated his goodness still lingers in my mind. He’s more Prince Charming than villain to me right now, here on this beach, but he can flip his evil on like a switch and transform into the stuff my nightmares are made of.
He just doesn’t have a reason to anymore.
So I forget sometimes.
I am cruel. Wake the fuck up, Mia.
Nope.
I’ll keep my dreams intact, thank you very much.