Chapter Twenty One
Mia
“Thank you so much.”
The maid glances at me funnily, then nods in acknowledgement as she places my strawberry tort down in front of me. Being made to serve Vince’s family in Vegas has made me a little more appreciative of the help. If they like us, maybe it’s not such a bad gig, but who knows if they actually do. Maria loves us, I think. It’s hard to tell with her, but I’m pretty sure she cares. The newer maid I haven’t paid as much attention to. I guess it’s not like they can give honest feedback. I should implement some kind of check-in with them, to make sure nobody’s miserable here from time to time.
“So, this is the famous family dinner you wanted me to come to, huh?”
Rafe is seated next to Meg, so he’s across the table from me. I shake my head as I cut into my dessert with my fork. “Nope, this is just a normal dinner. On Sundays everybody in the house comes and the Morelli ladies make the dinner and serve the men.”
“That does sound better,” he says, nodding as he reaches for his glass.
“You should stick around for it,” Meg tells him, digging into her tort. Then flashing him a coy smile, she adds teasingly, “I’ll serve you.”
I glance at Mateo, but he doesn’t seem to care that Meg’s been openly flirting with Rafe throughout this whole dinner. I guess if he didn’t care about what he did with me, that shouldn’t surprise me, but it’s different when it’s right in front of him and for no real reason.
Rafe’s gaze moves over her briefly, then he also flicks a curious glance Mateo’s way before returning his attention to his dessert.
“So, is it too sore a subject to ask about the girlfriend of yours Mateo stole?” I ask.
Meg snorts, looking at Mateo. “I knew there were more waiting in the wings.”
Mateo smiles faintly. “I didn’t steal her.”
“Right, right,” Meg says, rolling her eyes. “You only borrow them. Just ask Vince.”
I cut her an unamused look across the table. She grins back cheekily.
At least Rafe is also amused and not salty about it. “He didn’t steal her, but he did ruin her for me, so he might as well have.”
“Well, tell us the story,” I prod, cutting into my dessert with my fork.
“Her name was Rebecca. She was a psych major.”
Meg cuts in, “He really likes those psych majors.”
“Hey, I picked Mia out before I knew she wanted to be a psych major,” Mateo defends.
“Right, because she was a high school senior at the time. That’s much better, you’re right; don’t know what I was thinking.” Meg barely misses a beat, then with her balls of steel, she adds, “Was Beth a psych major, too?”
My eyes widen slightly at Meg across the table, but she ignores me and acts like talking about Beth is totally normal.
Much to my relief, Mateo doesn’t seem bothered. “No, Beth was studying nursing. She didn’t have a passion for it, just a way to make a living. Once we got together, she dropped out.”
Rafe gives a short, derisive laugh. “Nursing. Can you imagine Beth taking care of anyone other than herself?”
“Well, I could imagine it back then, obviously,” Mateo replies, dryly.
Meg shakes her head and addresses Rafe. “I’m so jealous you got to meet Beth. She’s a legend around here. I mean, a legendary example of what not to do, but still a legend.”
Rafe shakes his head. “She wasn’t impressive, you’d be disappointed. She was just a selfish, superficial skank who found a back tunnel into Mateo’s head somehow and then fucked it up even worse than it already was.”
I shake my head. “I hate her so much. I’m glad I never met her. I’d scratch her face off.”
Mateo seems mildly amused as he spears a strawberry.
I turn my attention back to Rafe, wanting to get the train back on the tracks before he loses his humor. “Anyway, enough about her. Go on with your story.”
“All right. Well, it’s far less exciting than the story of Beth. No epic affair, no climactic murder. We’d been involved for a little while, had a nice thing going. Then she met this bastard,” he says, indicating Mateo with his fork.
Mateo bows his head, smirking lightly.
“I think her interest started out more academic in nature,” Rafe offers. “He’s obviously a unique specimen and she wanted to figure him out.”
Meg nods her head. “Like a moth to a flame. I get it. Someone could write a hell of a thesis on the inner workings of Mateo Morelli.”
Rafe nods, not arguing. “But because he’s an asshole, he had to take it too far.”
Mateo couldn’t be more dismissive. “I don’t think Rebecca liked you as much as you thought she did. She wasn’t exactly a challenge.”
Rafe rolls his eyes, his gaze drifting back to me. “Anyway, he shouldn’t have been able to take control from me like that, and once he did, I lost interest in her.”
“In her defense, he’s really hard to resist,” I inform Rafe.
Leveling me a look more speaking than it ought to be, Rafe replies, “Yes, well, some women feel the same way when they’re alone with me, little one.”
I narrow my eyes at his use of that goddamn nickname in front of Mateo, then I take a sip from my wine glass and attempt to remain casual. “Sure, maybe when Mateo isn’t in the room, they do. You lost control of your girlfriend to Mateo when you were right there to hold onto her. I’m reasonably sure Mateo would never lose control over his woman to you or anyone else.”
Rafe’s eyebrows rise, but he seems amused that I’m challenging him. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” I reply, without hesitation. “That’s right.”
Reaching for his wine glass, Mateo clears his throat, meets his cousin’s gaze, and casually backs me up. “As far as borrowing goes, Rafe, I think we can call it even now.”
Rafe’s eyes widen with surprise and his gaze darts to me. I shrug and glance at Mateo, who seems entertained that Rafe thought there was even a chance his commands might overrule Mateo’s with me.
---
After dinner, Mateo says good night early and hauls me back upstairs.
Back to his room.
“Shouldn’t we go back to our room?” I ask, as he hauls me up the corridor toward his bedroom.
He shakes his head, but he doesn’t haul me inside the bedroom. Instead he backs me up against the wall, his fingers skating down my arms until they close around my wrists. He presses his body against mine, pushing my arms over my head and pinning me against the wall. There’s no pressure on my wrists, nothing legitimately trapping me here now, but there doesn’t need to be; nothing could ever make me leave. Rejecting him now would be like rejecting a piece of my own soul. I thought long ago I was selling pieces of my soul to him, and it turns out I was right. He possesses me now, wholly and without question. It’s not scary, though. It’s exhilarating. It’s perfect. It’s a relief. He’s the strongest man I’ve ever met, and he shares all he is with me.
Mateo is a dark, impenetrable wall, and I’m the soft ivy he’s grown to climb it.
I’m his now, entirely and eternally. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I couldn’t sleep in this bedroom while you were gone,” he informs me. His voice is quiet, tender, and his affection for me warms his eyes. I dip forward, wanting to kiss him, but he keeps me pinned against the wall. “There are pieces of you in everything that’s mine now. When I walked down this hall, I saw you here, pretty and crying, looking at up me with those sad blue eyes, struggling to accept how I’d hurt you.”
“Nice memory,” I murmur lightly.
“You were never supposed to linger in my life,” he tells me. “You weren’t even a game piece; you were a spot on the board. I was supposed to play my hand, step over you, and move on.”
“God, you’re romantic,” I tell him, grinning.
This makes him smirk, and now he finally lets me have a kiss. He releases my arms so I can wind them around his neck, reveling in the way his tongue sweeps into my mouth, leading me down a pleasurable path—hopefully. I’d follow this man anywhere, even into the fires of hell, but I think right now we’re heading somewhere nice.
Withdrawing from my mouth, he pulls back to look at me again, but I keep my arms secured around his neck, keeping him close.
“I’ve tried to shake you so many times, and I could never stick to it. No matter how many times I tried to fuck this up, you never let me.”
I run my hands down the lapel of his jacket, smiling faintly. “Your powers of destruction are no match for me, Mateo Morelli.”
He smiles at that, tenderly cupping my face in his hand. “You’ve let me break your heart a million times, Mia. Every single time, you’ve let me put it back together.”
I probably shouldn’t tell him this, but he already knows. “I always will.”
It’s rare to see pure, uncomplicated love in Mateo, but for a moment I do. Even though I already knew he loved me, a swarm of butterflies break free in my tummy. It’s exhilarating to hold this man’s heart, and I do. His grip on mine may be the most obvious, but when it’s just us, I know I’m the keeper of his, and it’s the greatest honor I’ll ever know.
“I love you so much, Mia.”
I close my eyes, pulling him close so I can hug him. “Even after all these years, it makes my stomach hurt when you say that.”
“Good hurt?”
“The best kind of hurt,” I verify.
This makes him smile. He reaches down to tangle his fingers together with mine and tugs me away from the wall, leading me toward the bedroom.
Once we’re inside and he closes the door behind us, he tells me, “I got you a few presents.”
Rubbing my hands together in an exaggeratedly greedy manner, I tell him, “I love presents.”
An indulgent smirk plays around his perfect lips. “I know you do.”
I hop up on the bed and watch him open the walk-in closet, bending to pick up three boxes and bring them over to me, kicking the door shut behind him. They’re shoe boxes, so I get excited. Mateo buys the best shoes.
I flash him an eager grin, grabbing the top shoe box off the stack.
“Those are my favorite,” he tells me, before I can open it. “I saw them and thought of you.”
I pull the white lid off the box and set it aside. As soon as I see the shoes, I can’t hold back a little gasp. I’ve acquired a lot of pretty shoes over the years, but these are straight out of a fairy tale. They’re rose gold in tone with gold filigree leaves climbing up the heel of the shoe like a vine. Delicate pink flowers accent the vines, and the shoe itself has fantastical embellishments along the sides.
“These are absolutely incredible,” I tell him, grinning as I look up at him. “You should’ve saved these for last. There’s no way can you top these.”
Chuckling, he nods to the next shoe box. “Look at them all, then you can decide which ones you want to wear.”
Reluctantly I tuck my enchanted fairy tale shoes back into their box, setting it aside so I can grab the next one. “I want to wear all of them, obviously.”
Oh man, the Jimmy Choos I open next are fantastic, too. Soft pink and silver peep-toe sandals with my shoe-weakness—delicate, intricately crossed straps.
“These look like they want to be worn in Italy,” I inform him. “With a breezy summer dress, on our way to get gelato.”
Nodding, he says, “Sounds good to me. We’ll take those out of the running, then.”
“Out of the running for what?” I ask, tucking the shoes back into the box. “What are these for, specifically?”
He nods to the next box, and I grab it, putting it in my lap. This one’s more familiar—a Louboutin box. I have lots of Louboutins. We’ve probably bought that man a vacation home by now.
I open up my last box, getting a glimpse of shimmery rose gold peep-toes with my criss-cross straps, but then I can’t even focus on the shoes anymore. There on top rests one of Mateo’s cards, and my heart promptly drops out of its chest cavity when I read the message scrawled across in Mateo’s handwriting.
“For our wedding,” he says, simply.
I can’t breathe. My brain can’t process this. Exhilaration soars through me, making me a little light-headed with the rush of blood. I’m so confused. He can’t marry me. He can’t marry either of us, because it wouldn’t be fair.
“Our wedding?” I ask, faintly. “How can we have a wedding?”
Mateo comes forward now, taking my hand and tugging me off the bed. “We sign some paperwork, plan a big party, invite a bunch of people, and buy you a new dress.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” I say, my voice shaking a little. “Are you serious? Is this real?”
“This is completely real,” he informs me, bringing my left hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles. “I want to marry you, Mia. And if you haven’t noticed, I’m a man accustomed to getting what I want.”
I don’t know how he can keep his humor about him; I’m such a mess of emotions, I feel like I might throw up. “But what about Meg?”
“Meg and I are no longer together. No more sharing, just you and me.”
My jaw drops open. “What? Since when? How?”
“I can answer all this later,” he assures me. “First, you answer my question.”
My hearts pounds in my chest like a victory drum. “Of course I’ll marry you, you crazy man.” Saying the words aloud, hearing myself say them, suddenly makes it feel real. “Oh, my god. I’m going to marry you. You’re going to marry me. We’re going to get married?”
“Mrs. Mateo Morelli,” he says, trying it out. “Mia Morelli. I like both.”
“I love both,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed. I throw myself into his arms, kissing him because I can’t even help myself. Holy shit. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe this.” I pull back, eyes wide, grinning helplessly. “And you proposed with shoes. You’re the greatest, hands-down. All the other men in the world can just give up now.”
“Well, you already had a ring,” he points out.
I hold up my ring now, sighing as I look at it. I whole-heartedly love my ring, but when he gave it to me, he wasn’t asking me to marry him. He was just evening things out since Meg had one, but he was committed to us both.
I circle back to that, because I have to know what my happiness is costing her. “I need to know what happened with Meg. Everything seemed fine at dinner.”
“Everything is fine,” he assures me. “Nothing terrible happened; it wasn’t an angry ending, we just…” He shakes his head, then brings his gaze to mine. “I love Meg and Meg loves me, we just don’t want to sleep together anymore. I’ve invested much more in my relationship with you than my relationship with her, so it stopped growing. To be honest, I didn’t want to invest in that one anymore. Turns out, she doesn’t either. She’s still going to live here at the house, just not in this room anymore.”
“Is she mad at me?”
He shakes his head. “Ending things was her idea.”
“But what about the baby?”
“Like I said, things won’t change that much. Obviously Meg is family, I just won’t be sleeping with her anymore.”
I shake my head, still vaguely disbelieving. On occasion I’ve had selfish fantasies that went a little something like this, but I was wholly unprepared for it to ever actually happen. “I was not expecting any of this.”
Wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me close, he looks down at me. “And I wasn’t expecting to face the possibility of actually losing you. My takeaway: I hated it, and it’s never allowed to happen again.”
I smile up at him, locking my arms around his neck. “I’m inclined to agree with you.”
“No more Saturdays at the bakery,” he adds.
“I figured.”
“And you’re never to leave the house without a guard again. Not ever. Not for anything. If the house is on fire, you make sure someone accompanies you outside.”
“Well, then I might die from smoke inhalation.”
“The house isn’t allowed to catch on fire, either,” he decides. “You’re definitely not allowed to die.”
I laugh, hugging him and closing my eyes. “I’m so happy.”
“Now that you’re home, so am I.”