Chapter Twenty Five
I don’t get out of bed to do more than shower or pee until Sunday. Mateo makes me eat breakfast, even though it makes me feel ill, and I would stay here in my dead little shell for much longer, only he doesn’t let me.
Draping a new garment bag across the foot of the bed, he says, “Time to get up.”
“Why?”
“It’s family dinner day. Mandatory.”
“Still?”
He merely smiles.
I’m not prepared for this hell, but I force myself to shower and get dressed. The new dress is white and sleeveless, high necked, but tightly fitted. Gazing at myself in Mateo’s bathroom mirror, I consider the irony that he’s dressing me in white now that I’m sullied beyond redemption.
For shoes, he had my Louboutins brought in. I didn’t think anything could make me stop loving those damn shoes, but boy, he managed to find a way.
It’s the first I’ve really seen anybody in four days, so I guess it’s not surprising that everyone I come across stares before awkwardly saying hello. Despite my dark mood, I managed to pull it together physically, and I don’t look as horrible as I feel.
I expect Cherie to hate me, since she’s Vince’s sister, so I’m surprised when she wraps an arm around me in the kitchen and asks, “You okay?”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
Francesca avoids my gaze, and when it’s time to serve the food, I understand why.
I grab two plates, dropping Mateo’s cranberries on his, and none on the salad for Vince.
As gently as I think she can, Francesca takes Vince’s plate. “I got this one.”
I close my eyes, bracing myself on the edge of the counter. I get it now, why Vince was so pissed about it before. Not only have I been stripped of my relationship, now I’m going to walk out there and his entire family is going to see the evidence.
Worse, they’re going to see me only serving Mateo now.
Steeling myself for whatever’s about to come, I grab Mateo’s salad and head for the dining room. My eyes find Vince immediately, expecting him to have moved, but he’s in the same spot as always, my seat open next to him. My heart skips a beat, realizing they didn’t move my spot, so I’ll still be stuck between them.
Perfect.
Vince looks up when I walk in, hurt transforming his features at the sight of me. His gaze moves over my body, unfortunately prominently displayed in this tight-ass dress, and comes to settle on the single salad plate in my hand.
I feel like I’m stepping on his heart with the heel of my stiletto when I stop by Mateo, putting it down in front of him.
Vince’s hands are clenched into fists on the table, and I see him squeeze, his jaw locked so tightly it looks painful.
I go back and get my salad, even though there’s no chance I’ll be able to eat.
I slide into the seat next to Vince, scooting forward, willing myself just to push the food around as long as I have to.
I don’t expect Vince to speak to me, so I’m more than a little surprised when he says, “You look pretty.”
I dare a glance in his direction, but his eyes are glued on the glass of alcohol on the table in front of him.
“Thank you,” I say, quietly.
My stomach pitches and turns like a ship caught in a storm. After a few bites, I give up on the salad and turn to wine. I know I’ll be in Mateo’s bed again tonight, and maybe I’ll feel a bit better about it if I manage to get drunk first. I wish I had the nerve to take what Vince has, but the sexist assbags only give women wine at dinner, no hard liquor.
Which, I call bullshit, because we need hard liquor to deal with them.
Once Mateo finishes his salad, I push back and stand to clear his plate.
Vince’s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist before I’m all the way up. I freeze, not sure what to expect.
“I want you to bring my dinner,” he states.
Swallowing, hating the impulse, I look to Mateo. I catch mild surprise on his face before he clears it, his gaze moving to mine, watching to see what I’ll say.
“Okay,” I say uncertainly.
Mateo, probably not pleased with my response, meets Vince’s gaze. “Why?”
Vince’s eyes meet his, full of resentment. “Why not?”
Not one to be challenged, Mateo gives a deceptively casual shrug. “Well, I’m the one fucking her each night, I’m the one waking up with her tangled in my arms every morning, doesn’t seem to me there’s much reason—”
Vince’s chair flies back and I jump, gasping. Mateo already had the attention of half the table with his boastful assholery, but the few at the far end who hadn’t been looking are now.
“Fuck that,” Vince says lowly. “Fuck. That.”
“Vince,” I say, glancing over at Mateo. I don’t disagree, but I don’t think it’s even safe to make a scene telling Mateo to fuck off at family dinner. I envision Mateo pulling out his gun, the one that’s been inside me, and shooting Vince without remorse, just because he fucking can. I envision shocked faces around the dinner table, but all of us too afraid to defy Mateo, so we finish our dinner while Vince’s body grows cold right there on the ground next to us.
“No,” Vince says, his finger in my face. “You shut up.”
I do, not because I’m obeying, but because I’m a little shocked.
“Fuck this,” Vince says again. “She’s mine. I never gave her up; I never said I didn’t want her… No.”
Mateo doesn’t respond, and Vince doesn’t give anyone else a chance to. Locking his hand around my wrist, he drags me out of the dining room.
My heart pounds as I scurry to keep up with him, glancing back nervously. “Are we allowed to do this?”
“Everyone else takes what they want, why the fuck should I care?” he mutters.
“I don’t think we’re allowed to leave Sunday dinner,” I point out.
“Fuck Sunday dinner.”
This feels more than a little reckless to me, but I don’t get the impression he’s interested in my opinion. I don’t know what’s going to happen, not right now, not tomorrow, but I guess I’m along for the ride either way.
When we get to his room, Vince slams it shut, then backs me up toward the bed. My heart’s racing, doubtful about this whole thing. He said he couldn’t even look at me, so how’s this going to work?
Also, he still looks angry. Here he is, with me in his bedroom, our bodies close enough to touch, but there’s a fire behind his brown eyes, burning up any tenderness I might have hoped to see there.
He doesn’t speak to me. I think he’s going to, but it looks like he changes his mind. Instead, he grabs the bottom of my dress and hikes it up, startling me.
Hands on my hips, he lets his gaze rake over my body. I glance down, noticing bruises on my thighs—marks left by Mateo.
It seems to settle on Vince at the same time. His gaze frozen on my marked thighs, he swallows and takes a step back.
I don’t want him to retreat, and I feel sick that he had to see that, but I don’t want him to pull away, so I take a step toward him.
“Don’t think about it,” I say quietly.
“How?” he asks. “It’s all I can think about.”
“I didn’t want him. Doesn’t that count for something?”
His lips curve up, his smile bitter. “Thing is, Mia, I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t want to believe me,” I accuse, not understanding why. “How is it so hard to believe—?”
“You were sitting in his study visiting with him when Adrian told him about a pick-up this weekend. He let you sit there—and no one was forcing you to be there.”
“I was just trying to get along. I just wanted things to be amicable, I never thought… I never thought he’d actually force himself on me, Vince.”
“Mateo doesn’t trust anyone, Mia. Least of all someone he’s giving reason to hate him.”
“He wasn’t trusting me, he was setting me up,” I say, a little irritably. “For this, right here. You were right all along, he never intended to let me go because I saw you walk out of that goddamn house. Instead of telling you no, for whatever reason, he said as long as you want me, and then immediately began sabotaging us. I should’ve believed you. I don’t know… if it would’ve stopped this from happening, but maybe then you’d at least believe me.”
“Now you know how I felt, trying to tell you what he was like and you not believing me. Calling me paranoid and crazy—treating me like I’m the asshole, when all I was trying to do was protect you.”
“I get that now. I didn’t then. I have no frame of reference for this, Vince. I’ve never known people like that. I didn’t know how to navigate this world. I’m supposed to keep you happy, I’m supposed to be careful around him—I’m so fucking twisted up between the two of you.”
His jaw locks again, and I can see his anger seeping out again. “I can’t stand to think about his hands on you. You’ve slept in his bed the past three nights—apparently you wake up tangled in his motherfucking arms every morning.”
“He only said that to hurt you.”
“Well, it fucking worked,” he says, raising his voice. “Why did you stay, Mia? If he hurt you, if you didn’t want him, if you were so goddamn afraid of losing me, why did you stay with him?”
Shaking my head, I try to come up with an adequate explanation. “I didn’t think you wanted me to come back. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s not like I get to leave here if you cast me aside, Vince. It’s not like I have options.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he demands irritably. “It weighs on me every fucking day. It has since he brought you here, but now? Now I get to lie in my own goddamn bed with images of you spreading your legs for him, of his mouth on you—and you enjoying it.”
I open my mouth to say I didn’t, but I can’t. Obviously the first two times I did enjoy it, I just… didn’t know it was him.
He moves in again, giving me a light shove. I drop to the bed, scooting backward uncertainly. “Right here,” he says, pointing to the bed. “Is this where you let my cousin fuck you?”
“You’re not being fair,” I tell him.
“What about this morning, huh? Before you put on this pretty dress and came down to serve him dinner, did he fuck you then?”
I close my eyes, unable to look at him, torn by too many different feelings—not least of all, shame.
“He did,” he says slowly. “He’s been inside you today, hasn’t he?”
“Please stop,” I say, not liking this.
“Then get it out of my head!”
“I don’t know how!” I cry, wishing I did. “You have to want to, Vince. I’m not a goddamn magician. Tell me how to make it better!”
“Promise me he won’t touch you again.”
With a bitter laugh, I shake my head. “How? How can I promise that? I can promise if he does, I’ll fight, but how do I promise you he won’t force me? You act like this is my doing. If I could stop him, I would have already!”
“I’m gonna kill him,” he says, jaw locked as he spins around.
“Don’t say that,” I say, immediately. “You don’t mean that—”
Spinning back around, he gapes at me in furious disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t you fucking defend him to me, Mia.”
Stomach sinking, I shake my head in denial. “No, I wasn’t. That’s not what I… that’s not what I meant.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out that Cherie said there are cameras everywhere but the bathrooms, that I’ve been thinking about it over the past few days and I think maybe he does watch them. It’s awfully coincidental that as soon as Vince tells me he doesn’t want kids, Mateo decides to fuck me with no condom.
But Vince isn’t listening—he’s enraged, climbing across the bed in my direction. I skitter back, nervous, and he catches my leg, yanking me down near him.
“Vince, Wait—”
“You tell me he fucking forces you and then you have the audacity to be protective of that son of a bitch?”
“No, I wasn’t—”
He doesn’t let me finish, jerking my dress up around my waist and shoving me down on the bed. I panic, trying to get back up, but he pins me to the bed just like Mateo has.
“Is that what you like? Am I not dangerous enough for you, Mia?”
“Vince, stop,” I cry, tears leaking out of my eyes now. “That wasn’t what I was—I’m not protective of Mateo—”
“Stop fucking talking about him,” he bites out, grabbing my bruised thighs and wrenching them apart.
“Please, Vince, not like this.”
“I know I’m not the Morelli who last had his dick inside you in this bed, or even today, but I’ll have to fucking do.”
I sob, dropping my face to the pillow as Vince shoves inside me. I’m already so sore from Mateo and he’s being so mean that every thrust burns like hell. I can’t stop crying the whole time, and when he finally finishes, I realize he’s not wearing a condom either. I don’t know whether he was so angry he forgot, or he figures if I do wind up pregnant, at least now there will be a sliver of a chance he’s the father.
He doesn’t curl up next to me when he’s done, he just gets off the bed and goes to the bathroom, leaving me half-naked and alone.
When he comes back out, he’s still angry. I can’t look at him, but I can tell by the way he’s slamming shit.
Finally moving, I pull my legs together and curl up on my side, tucking myself into a ball.
Vince stops pacing around the room after a few minutes and walks over to the bedside, watching me. He sits on the edge of the bed with his back to me, running a hand over his face and through his hair.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he finally says.
I don’t know if he means brutalizing me or the lack of condom, and he doesn’t clarify.
He’s close enough now that I don’t have to speak loudly. “The cameras.”
Vince frowns, not understanding.
“I just didn’t want him to hear you say that on the cameras. Didn’t want him to take it as a threat. He’d hurt you.”
He’s dead silent so I glance up at him, watching understanding dawn, then morph into dull horror as he realizes his mistake. “You weren’t…?”
I shake my head no. I can see he’s about to sink under the realization, and I don’t have the mental capacity left to deal with it today, so I ask, “Will you hold me?”
Understandably surprised, he asks, “You want me to?”
“It’s been a rough week,” I point out. I could use a little comfort, and there’s really nowhere else to get any.
Sighing heavily, he yanks back the comforter and climbs on the bed. First he drapes the blanket over my body, like it can cover up what he just did, then he settles in behind me, pulling me into his arms. I lean into him, closing my eyes and wondering how the hell my life got turned upside down so completely in such a short stretch of time.