Chapter Three
Mia
I turn sideways in the mirror, reconsidering the form-fitting dress I donned for this evening. I love my baby bump, but I’m not sure I’m feeling a tight dress tonight.
Mateo hasn’t let me see Meg at all since our honeymoon, but he’s letting her come to dinner tonight. I’ve asked to go down to the dungeon for a visit on multiple occasions, but he always tells me no. After the most recent ask, he got tired of repeating himself; that time he told me outright that if I go to the dungeon, he’ll remove Meg from the house.
I don’t know what that means, so I stay out of the dungeon. He has let her come up for a brief reprieve the last two Sundays, but he hasn’t let me see her then, either. I’m not sure if he’s trying to wean me off her friendship so he can dispose of her more easily, or he’s just afraid Meg will try to use me if she gets me alone.
Wrinkling my nose up at my reflection, I turn and head back into the bedroom. “Babe, can you unzip me? I don’t think I want to wear this one, after all.”
Mateo shrugs his jacket on and crosses the room. A contented sigh slips out of me as my gorgeous husband anchors one hand on my hip and drags the zipper down my back. I feel him lean in, then his lips brush the nape of my neck.
“Wear the short white one,” he says, releasing me and making for his own side of the closet.
“Which short white one?” I murmur, peeling my dress off and grabbing the hanger. Once I get it zipped back up, I go into the walk-in closet to replace it. A lovely, flowy white dress is draped across our white marble counter. I assume he means that one, so I take it off the hanger and change into it. I smile at his reflection in the mirror as he comes up behind me to zip it.
He wraps his arm around my waist from behind, tugging me close and looking at me in the mirror. “How’s the little monster treating you today?”
“Our baby is not a little monster,” I say, giving him a light-hearted glare as I brace my hand over his. “He just can’t handle the roller coaster ride that is our sex life. Can’t blame the little guy. It’s really your fault for being such a vigorous lover. He’s too young for roller coasters.”
He doesn’t appear to be convinced, but he flattens his hand across my tummy and gives it a tender rub anyway. I glow with pleasure. He may tease, but he’s going to be such a good daddy, whether the biology is there or not.
Releasing his hold on me, Mateo checks his watch and tells me, “I have to head downstairs.”
“Okay. I just have to grab shoes and I’ll be right down.” Mateo nods and starts to leave, but I remember I had a question. “Oh, wait! Is Meg making dinner with us tonight?”
“Nope. Not letting her near the knives,” he states. “She’s visiting the girls now; she’ll join us to eat.”
“Am I allowed to interact with her tonight? I mean, she’ll be sitting at the same table.”
“Yes. Just don’t go anywhere alone with her. Don’t go anywhere alone, period. If I’m not with you, make sure Adrian is. It’s not likely to be a fun dinner tonight,” he adds.
I nod my understanding and he leaves the closet. Approaching my shoe shelves, I search for a pair of gold sandals to go with my dress. I wasn’t really expecting tonight to be a fun dinner anyway given the irregular addition to the guest list—Dante is coming to dinner tonight. He pops over on occasion, but very rare occasion. Dante isn’t my biggest fan, but he’s also Mateo’s brother so I always try to be friendly. Now I have his thinly veiled hostility and awkwardness with Meg to deal with; it’s not going to be a fun time.
Sometimes I think I’ll be glad when all this is over, but I’m not sure it will ever really be over. Mateo stopped pestering me about killing Vince, but Vince is tucked away in another state so he’s a less pressing concern. Meg is right here under our roof, and Mateo no longer trusts her to be. It’s not easy to gain Mateo’s trust to begin with, but I assume once lost, it’s lost forever.
It’s too depressing to think about, so as I slip on my gold shoes, I do my best to put it out of my mind.
The kitchen is bustling with activity tonight. Mateo had to have a couple extra chairs brought to the dining room table to accommodate all of us. Francesca stays by me while we prepare dinner so we can chat. Colette and Elise work by themselves.
Meg still hasn’t made it to the kitchen when it’s time to get the salads ready and plate the food, so I leave them to do that while I go check with Mateo.
The study door is cracked, so I don’t bother knocking; I just push the door open. Inside the study, I hear the deep voices of two different men—one I recognize as my husband, one that I don’t recognize at all until I have a visual match.
Mateo has already turned his attention to me, but now the man standing across from him turns to investigate the interruption. Unexpectedly, the handsome visage of Rafe Morelli looks back at me.
My gaze jumps from him to Mateo. They’re both smirking at me. I realize it’s probably because my jaw is hanging open—he’s the last person I expected to see tonight. He’s supposed to be in Vegas; what the hell is he doing in Mateo’s study?
With a conspiring wink at me, Rafe intones to Mateo, “At least she seems happy to see me.”
I let go of the door and drift forward, still a little uncertain. “Hey.” I glance to Mateo for explanation, but he offers none, so I look back at Rafe. “I had no idea you were in town.”
Rafe shrugs. “Well, you talked up those Sunday night dinners so much I just had to come see for myself what was so great about them.”
“Hopefully I didn’t oversell the experience,” I toss back, glancing past them at Dante. He lingers by the window, a menacing shadow, away from the other men. As if he can feel my eyes on him, his gaze snaps to mine.
I avert my gaze and look back at Mateo, moving closer to him by instinct. He wraps a protective arm around my waist and tugs me against his side. “Rafe’s in town for a couple weeks. I told him he could stay here with us.”
“Okay, cool.” I smile mildly. “You didn’t mention it to me.”
“I thought it would be a fun surprise.”
“Yes, you’re always full of fun surprises.” I nod my head, but he only looks more amused. “Well, I was just popping in to let everyone know dinner is ready, so you can all make your way to the dining room and we’ll be serving you momentarily.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Rafe says lightly.
That reminds me why I came. I doubt Rafe knows Meg is in the dungeon though, and I don’t want to mention it in front of him if he doesn’t. I’m still trying to convince Mateo to move Rafe here so he can sweep Meg right off her feet (assuming Mateo doesn’t kill her, so I’m not saying there are no obstacles to this plan) but he might be less inclined to pursue her if he knows what she did. So, I bide my time and wait politely at Mateo’s side while they wrap up their boring conversation. Once Rafe is gone, I turn to Mateo and run my fingers down the front of his snowy white dress shirt.
“I have a question for my sexy husband.”
With a knowing smirk, he watches me. “What’s that?”
“Is there already a seat for Rafe at the table? I was thinking maybe we could pull up a chair for him next to Meg.”
Mateo rolls his eyes at my blatant transparency. “Give it up. Rafe and Meg are not happening.”
“But they could if you let them.”
“I don’t think he’s into necrophilia.”
At that, I scowl. “That’s not funny.”
“Who’s joking?” he murmurs back, leaning in to drop a kiss on my forehead. “Let’s not worry about Meg’s love life right now, okay? It’s the least of her concerns.”
“But she likes him, I can tell. And wouldn’t it benefit you to have Meg with someone like Rafe anyway? He could keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t do anything outlandish.”
“No,” he says, mildly. “It would benefit me to eliminate people who might do outlandish things and save myself a lot of money and effort managing them.”
I can’t really argue that. “Well, okay, but wouldn’t this be a good second best option?”
Mateo sighs, beginning to lose patience with my campaign. “Stop worrying about Meg. I assure you, Meg does not worry about you.”
I can’t argue with that either. I hate trying to win arguments with him. It’s like trying to lift a house with my pinky fingers. “But she’s my friend,” I remind him.
“Not anymore. She’s a shitty friend,” he returns, immovably. “You don’t need shitty friends. Be friends with Adrian—I can personally guarantee that if he ever found out someone planned to kidnap you, he would murder them without having to think about it. That’s your new standard for friendship. Nothing less will do.”
“That seems like a high standard,” I point out. “I’ll never have any friends if they all have to be willing to kill for me.”
Smiling wryly, he says, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I sigh heavily, like he’s being a real drag with his rules. “I want friends, Mateo.”
“Spend more time with Francesca,” he advises, placing a hand at the small of my back and escorting me out of the study. “Salvatore would also kill for you. That counts.”
“But what about mommy friends? Francesca is obviously my friend, but she has her own life. It would be nice to have a living, breathing mommy friend to have play dates with. And hey, Meg already lives here.”
“So does Elise. I’ll make Elise be your friend if you want someone in-house. But I’m cutting off the parasitic frenemies. It’s past time to draw that line.”
“Elise hates me,” I point out.
He couldn’t be more dismissive. “Do you really doubt my powers of persuasion after all these years? If you want Elise for a friend, I will hand deliver her.”
“I would like Elise for a friend,” I admit. “I think we have stuff in common, and we’re having babies close to the same time. I feel like we could like each other if she’d give me a chance. It would also make Adrian’s life much easier since you make him be my friend anyway.”
“I don’t make him be your friend; he likes you. I will make Elise be your friend, though.”
I grin up at him, leaning in to give him a little kiss as we make our way toward the dining room. “You’re the best husband ever.”
He smiles, holding me close and lengthening the kiss by a few seconds before murmuring against my lips, “You can thank me later.”
I beam up at him. “With pleasure.”
I leave the men in the dining room so I can head in the kitchen to grab bread for the table. Elise is already heading out to pour the wine while Colette and Francesca line up salads. Meg must have just come in because she’s washing her hands at the sink. I’m relieved to see she looks okay, but I feel a little awkward about approaching her for the first time, too. I don’t know if anyone has told her I’m not allowed to visit her or if she just thinks I’ve abandoned her.
Since Mateo isn’t here to police me, I wander over to her, offering up a weak smile.
“Hey.”
“Long time no see,” she shoots back, her gaze moving over me as she takes stock. “Cute dress, but I can’t even tell you’re pregnant. God, that’s annoying. I look like the side of a house and you look like this.”
“Well, I’m not that far along yet; you’re ready to pop,” I point out.
“I am. And your husband won’t even give me a baby monitor or anything to call for help in case I go into labor, so—”
Before Meg can finish, Francesca sails up beside me and says, “You know what, since we’re being forced to have you at this dinner, maybe instead of pestering Mia about things she can’t control, you should make yourself useful and take out the bread.”
“Oh, I’ll take out the bread,” I offer quickly, as Meg’s unfriendly gaze drifts to Francesca’s. “I was just about to; I just wanted to say hi to Meg real fast.”
“Yeah, I’ve been locked away in a literal dungeon with almost no human contact for two weeks, so pardon me for trying to catch up with my friend.”
Francesca’s dark eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “Friend? Bitch, please. You’re not Mia’s friend. You’ve also done far more to earn your spot in that dungeon than any other woman who’s ever been thrown in it, so forgive me for not feeling sorry for you. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”
Meg laughs shortly. “Seriously? Your husband runs the literal mafia and you want to lecture me about my crimes?”
“Okay, ladies.” Colette comes over, eyebrows rising, her blue eyes moving from me, to Francesca, to Meg. Pointing at Meg, she says, “You go over to the salad station, Mia and I will take out the bread.” Glancing at Francesca, she adds, “Try not to stab her, okay? She’s heavily pregnant.”
Brown eyes narrowed at Meg, Francesca says, “I guess I can wait a couple weeks.”
“Oh, you’re gonna stab me now, huh?”
“Actually, you’re not worth getting my hands dirty; I’ll just have my husband kill you,” Francesca shoots back. “He’ll happily do the job; we don’t hesitate to kill rats.”
“I am not a rat.” Meg pauses, her hands clenching into fists, then she says, “You know what? I don’t have to defend myself to you.”
I interrupt. “Can we please all be civil? I don’t like to play this card, but I’m the one she betrayed. If I can be nice, can’t we all?”
“You have a soft spot for psychos who hurt you,” Francesca informs me.
“And it’s worked out really well for me so far,” I state.
Francesca shakes her head, but she seems to be giving in. “It won’t this time. She didn’t just fuck you over, she crossed Mateo. You don’t cross my brother.”
Meg frowns. “Refresh my memory. Didn’t you cross your brother?”
Francesca smiles, but there’s nothing nice about it. “Yes. But unlike you, I’m not a useless little bitch.” Raking her gaze up and down Meg’s body, she lingers on her abdomen. “As soon as that baby’s out of you, you are. Mateo won’t forgive your betrayal—it doesn’t benefit him, and he doesn’t fucking like you. You went too far this time, you cocky bitch. I can’t wait until that baby is born so we never have to see you again.”
Francesca’s aggravated voice fades as she approaches the salads and Colette goes to retrieve a basket of bread for the dining room. I linger by Meg, torn on what to do. Meg stands tall, but the lightness is absent from her face. Normally she can make light of anything, but Francesca’s last line was a little too close to what she probably legitimately fears for even Meg to make a joke of it. Her fate rests in Mateo’s hands now. He’s not merciful in the best of circumstances—and these are not that.
“You need to show him he can trust you,” I tell her, since I can’t even lie and tell her I’m sure she’ll be okay. I’m not sure at all. The only thing I don’t understand is why he let her come to family dinner tonight. Everything else he’s doing, especially not allowing me to be her friend and cutting her mom time down to an hour a week, seems to indicate he’s phasing her out so he can kill her. I’m trying really hard not to believe that, but it’s difficult.
“How?” she asks, shaking her head. “I’ve already shown him he can’t.”
“I don’t know. Surprise him. That’s always worked for me. Mateo always expects the worst of people, so it’s not that hard to surprise him, you just have to…” I don’t finish, because I don’t know how. What you have to do to surprise Mateo is behave in a way he can’t see coming—but he and Meg are too much alike for that. I don’t know how Meg can surprise him, especially since he’s never around her anymore. “Prove him wrong,” I finally say.
“I don’t see myself getting a chance to prove him wrong, Mia,” she states. “I’ve seen him exactly once since he threw me in the dungeon, and only for about a minute.”
“I’m doing what I can,” I offer, somewhat apologetically.
Smiling without humor, Meg says, “I’m not sure even you can help me this time.”
I already hate this dinner and it hasn’t even begun yet. Weighed down with Meg’s problems, I grab two more bread baskets and head out to the dining room, placing them at Mateo’s end of the table and the middle. When I go back in to get Mateo’s salad, Colette comes up beside me. We don’t socialize much, so it’s unexpected.
“He doesn’t have security on the dungeon, does he?”
I frown faintly. “I don’t think so. I’m not really sure.”
Colette seems concerned. “So, what if she does go into labor? Even if he doesn’t care if she dies, what about the baby? When is she due?”
“Two weeks.” I roll my shoulders, growing tense. I’ve already asked Mateo all of this, but he’s good at stonewalling. If he doesn’t want to answer a question, he just doesn’t. I don’t support any of this myself, but as his wife, I share the weight of these sins. What he does outside of this house I can’t help, but inside, I feel partially responsible for not being able to stop him.
I can’t stop him though. I’ve never actually been able to stop him. Francesca told me years ago she never expected that of me, and I think I’ve managed to temper him more than even she thought I could. Vince is alive, after all. Meg is more complicated. Since she has kids (that she knows about), she’s not so easy to banish.
Colette doesn’t appear to be impressed, but if I can’t control what Mateo does, she damn sure can’t. Francesca, Elise, Colette and I grab salads for our men, so Meg grabs the remaining two in the men’s line. I completely forgot to tell her Rafe was here what with the dust-up in the kitchen, but I don’t have to because she follows us and sees for herself. She pauses just inside the dining room, doing a double take, then her gaze jumps straight to me.
I want to drift close and respond, but Mateo is watching me, so I can’t.
I’m a little dismayed to see Rafe is not sitting by Meg, he is sitting in Vince’s old seat—right by me. Meg is still across from me, though, so at least he’s close enough that they’ll be able to talk over dinner. I really hope Mateo didn’t tell him what Meg did to get herself tossed in the dungeon.
As we head back into the kitchen, Meg crowds close to my side. “Way to give a girl a heads-up.”
“I meant to! I got distracted with you and Francesca reprising your one-woman roles of the Jets and the Sharks.”
“What is he doing here?” she asks.
I shrug. “Business, I think. I didn’t know he was here until five minutes ago. Mateo didn’t tell me.”
“What good are you?” Meg mutters. “You’re supposed to know this stuff. You’re his wife, for Christ’s sake. You live in this house. This is your house. Why don’t you know when Vegas cousins come to visit?”
“I’ve been busy campaigning to keep your ass alive; I didn’t have time to read the newsletter.”
Nodding once in begrudging acknowledgement, she says, “I guess I can’t complain about that.”
“Ingrate,” I mutter, grabbing my own salad and heading back to the dining room. “This is why Mateo calls you my frenemy.”
Meg snorts. “He used the word frenemy? I can’t believe I missed that. Please tell me you can get footage off one of the cameras.”
“I have much bigger problems right now,” I inform her.
We’re back through the kitchen doors so I stop talking to Meg and approach my spot at the table. Since Vince is long gone and we don’t usually have as many people as we have tonight, normally no one sits beside me.
It’s incredibly odd to be seated next to Mateo’s Vegas cousin at the dinner table. Rafe Morelli somehow takes up too much space. I feel crowded. That’s absurd because Vince sat in this same space for nearly a year and I never felt too crowded, but tonight I do. Tonight I’m a ball of tension, Rafe taking up far too much room on my left. His elbow bumps mine several times. Meg sits across from me, but Mateo doesn’t want me to be her friend and I don’t want to bring up her imprisonment in case Rafe doesn’t know. Then my beloved husband presides over all of us, tonight’s resident wild card.
Luckily Alec is seated next to Meg tonight. Ordinarily he sits down by Adrian, but tonight he’s the buffer. Alec is the only one in the house who takes no sides in anything. We are all on our own teams, and Alec is chilling on the bleachers, only here because he has to be.
Sal and Francesca are beside Alec, then Elise is seated at the end with Adrian at the foot of the table. Rafe gets the rare honor of sitting next to Colette and Dante.
As much space as Rafe sucks up, at least I don’t have to sit by Dante. I bet he would take up just as much space, but instead of Rafe’s calm presence, he would exude malice.
“Didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” Dante says casually, cutting into his salad. “Did you fall in love with Mia, too?”
Rafe looks his way and nods casually. “I did. My master plan is to woo her right in front of her husband, after advertising it to the whole family at the dinner table.”
I roll my eyes and look at Mateo to make sure he’s on board with all this nonsense. He winks at me reassuringly and I fill up with affection.
“I like it,” Dante states. “Bold. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.”
“If I need a chloroform rag, you’ll be my first call,” Rafe assures him.
“I like this plan, too,” Adrian says agreeably, spearing a big bite of salad and nodding. “Makes it so much easier to figure out who I’m supposed to kill to keep the peace. I wish everyone would be so transparent.”
“Speaking of people who need killing,” Francesca says, cocking her head to the side as she addresses Rafe. “You’ve met Meg, right?”
Sal shakes his head, glancing at Mateo. “Still no popcorn course, huh? I gotta say, as legendary as your hospitality is, I’m disappointed.”
Rafe glances from person to person, but takes it all pretty much in stride. If he’s surprised anyone would say Meg needs to die, he doesn’t show it. “We met on a couple of occasions.”
“Well, if you wanna take a chloroform rag to anyone, make sure it’s her. Stuff her in the trunk and don’t stop until you’re back in Nevada,” Francesca advises him.
Amused as hell, Rafe cocks an eyebrow at Meg. “I see you have a lot of friends.”
“Almost too many,” Meg agrees, taking a drink of her water. “I don’t have time to hang out with them all so I’ve taken to the dungeon for some me-time. Totally my choice. If anyone tells you otherwise, they’re lying.”
“Dungeons can be fun,” Rafe states, like that’s pretty reasonable.
I can’t resist piping in here. “This one really isn’t.”
Now Rafe grimaces at Mateo. “You need to improve your dungeon, man. Your wife’s not impressed.”
Lips curving up faintly, Mateo assures him, “My wife has never spent time there. It’s not meant for the fun kind of punishment.”
I steal a glance at Meg across the table, but she’s tossing her salad as if not even interested in our conversation.
Rafe’s attention is back on me, eyes sparkling with borderline flirtatious amusement. “Yeah, I bet you’re a real good girl, aren’t you?”
I’m not sure I like his tone, even if I know he’s not serious, so I offer back, “Mateo Morelli is the man of my dreams; draw your own conclusions about what kind of girl that makes me.”
“The crazy kind?” Sal offers congenially.
Francesca swats him in the arm. “They’re perfect together and you love them.”
Sal cocks a dark eyebrow. “But I like the crazy ones myself, obviously, so I can’t say much about that.”
“You all like the crazy ones,” Alec states. “If they were sane, they wouldn’t be sitting here with smiles on their faces.”
“I would,” Elise volunteers. “I have a wonderful husband who would never emotionally terrorize me or put me in the dungeon.”
“Who has already threatened murder once at the dinner table—and we’ve barely started the salad course,” Alec points out.
Elise looks at him and blinks. “So?”
Alec shakes his head, giving up on conversing with the lot of us. “Batshit crazy.”
Adrian merely smirks.