Chapter Nine
Mia
Elise stands in the doorway, golden eyebrows cocked, the sardonic curve of her smile expressing just how impressed she is.
“Real funny,” she says.
I tug the fur-lined hood of my bulky winter coat tighter to cover more of my face. “Better?”
“Nope. Come back when you have a scarf and a ski mask.”
My shoulders droop. “Are you serious?”
Laughing shortly, she takes a step back, opening the door. “Of course I’m not serious.”
Adrian is sitting on the couch with West in his lap, watching Aladdin. His gaze catches on me and darts from head to toe, taking in the winter coat, pants, and fur-lined boots I’m wearing.
I smile. “No skin is showing anywhere. No one can complain.”
Adrian cocks an eyebrow and looks at Elise. “This has gone entirely too far. I can’t take the abominable snowwoman out for tacos. It’s summer. She’ll die.” Easing West off his lap, he stands and approaches me. “What’d he do now?”
“This isn’t a taco-sized situation,” I inform him. “I just need a few minutes to grill you.”
Adrian shakes his head as he walks past me toward the door. “Take that shit off.”
“I can’t. Your wife will get mad at me.”
“Are you naked underneath?”
“No.”
“She’ll be fine.”
I cast a look at Elise, not entirely convinced. I peel off the coat, but she’s already moved on, drifting over to the kitchen area and opening a cabinet. “You want some lemonade?”
“Me?” I ask, brightly, draping the coat over the back of the chair. When she nods, I respond with more enthusiasm than lemonade warrants. “Yes, please.”
Adrian pulls up a seat at his kitchen table and I drop into the one across from him. Elise pours us both some lemonade and brings it over. Then she heads back to the couch to watch Aladdin with West.
“What’s the problem?” Adrian asks.
“Mateo. Or Rafe. Both of them, maybe.”
Sighing, he looks at the lemonade like if he stares hard enough, it will transform into something stronger.
“Do you know what he’s up to?” I ask.
I watch his face for something, but my friend isn’t here right now, Mateo’s right hand man is. Consequently, he gives me nothing. “What do you mean?”
“I know Mateo’s up to something, I just don’t know what. Do you? Even if you can’t tell me, do you at least know what it is, or are you in the dark, too?”
Adrian rolls his eyes. “I’m almost never in the dark.”
“He told me Rafe is in town doing some work for him.” I measure my words carefully. I don’t want to offer too many and tell him what that business entailed, just in case Mateo lied to me.
Unfortunately Adrian isn’t a dolt, so he appears almost amused by my attempt. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Well, what do you need me for, then?” Adrian shoots back, grabbing his lemonade and taking a smug sip.
Sighing as if put upon, I say, “Just tell me. Is he testing me? Rafe? Was he lying about forgiving everything and just quietly plotting his revenge? Does Rafe know why he’s here? What is his plan? Who is he tricking?”
“You’re giving me a headache,” Adrian states.
“I’m having difficulty trusting Mateo,” I state. My heart skips a beat, just saying such ugly words, but it’s the truth. My unwavering faith in the man I love is faltering in this instance. I’m not sure why and I don’t like it, but there it is.
Silence stretches on for a minute. Aladdin is in the background, gushing about Jasmine to the genie. Adrian appears to hate hearing my words as much as I hated saying them.
His silence feeds the seed of guilt I’ve been watering. Mateo’s words creep back to the forefront of my mind, telling me that allowing myself to feel guilt is to give someone else power over me. My sophisticated, logical husband can rationalize physical attraction, even an attraction to the qualities Rafe has that mirror his, but he draws the line at giving another man power over me. That’s Mateo’s arena. He is the sole proprietor—in that more than anything else, there’s no sharing.
“I need Rafe to leave,” I add. “I don’t trust him being here. It feels wrong.”
“Is it him you don’t trust?”
My gaze snaps to Adrian, but he won’t look at me. If he’s trying to make me feel worse, he’s doing a damn good job.
“I only want Mateo,” I tell him, defensively. “My mind knows that. My heart knows that. But Mateo trained my body to respond to certain things, and Rafe reminds me of him sometimes. He reminded me of him in Vegas, that’s why… I was drawn to him. Mateo swears it’s because I have some dangerous protector sensor and I know who to seduce to keep myself alive, but—”
Adrian cuts me off here, casually standing and casting a look at Elise and West. “Why don’t we take this conversation downstairs?”
I didn’t think I said anything little ears would listen to, especially with Aladdin on, but I get up and grab my coat, obediently heading to the door to wait for him. Adrian makes a pit stop at the couch, bending to give Elise a kiss before he follows me to the door.
Once we’re outside, I tell him, “I didn’t think I said anything West couldn’t hear.”
“You didn’t say anything West couldn’t hear, but Elise doesn’t know what went down between you and Rafe in Vegas. Also, as your general bodyguard, I think it’s best not to talk about the seduction skills you practice on men who protect you in front of my territorial wife—unless of course you’re attached to the snow gear.”
“That’s absurd. You would never cheat on Elise,” I state.
“I know that. Let’s just make my life easier and talk downstairs.”
“But there are cameras downstairs,” I mutter.
Since he already knows that, he hauls me to the bathroom.
I sigh as he closes the door behind us, folding my arms over my chest a bit crossly. “So, locking yourself in a bathroom with me is a better alternative than talking at your table to keep your crazy wife happy?”
Adrian shrugs, leaning the bulk of his muscular body back against the closed door. “If they were sane, we’d get bored. Anyway, go ahead.”
“I don’t remember what I was saying.”
“You only want Mateo, but you can’t stop siren-calling Rafe and you want him to leave.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “That is not what I was saying.”
“It’s the gist. I saved us a little bit of beating around the bush.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I tell him, a bit defensively. “I’m not trying to attract Rafe, but he’s still flirting with me. He’s not a harmless person to flirt with. If I know that, Mateo should, so why is he pushing Rafe on me? What’s he trying to prove?”
“I agree with you,” Adrian states.
I nod, waiting for him to go on, to explain why I’m wrong, why Mateo is right—to answer my questions and help me make sense of things.
He shrugs, seeing that I’m waiting. “I have no words of wisdom, I agree with you. I don’t know why he’s pushing Rafe on you. I think it’s fucking crazy. The asshole knows he married a siren, he understands your draw better than any of us—why is he trying to lure Rafe into your trap? I don’t know either.”
“You said you weren’t in the dark,” I object.
“I’m not. I know why Rafe’s here, but it doesn’t have anything to do with this—not to my knowledge, at least. I have no idea why he’s doing this. I’ve told him to stop. He doesn’t listen to me unless he wants to.”
“So, do you think he is trying to trap one of us?”
“Not you,” Adrian states, shaking his head. “I don’t know if he’s testing Rafe or not, but I know he’s not worried about you. We all know you’re loyal to Mateo, Mia.”
Even though Mateo more or less said the same thing, I feel better hearing it from Adrian. My beloved husband is a liar, but Adrian isn’t.
As difficult as my husband can be at times, there’s no test he can administer that I won’t pass, no damned road he can travel that I won’t follow, no trick he can pull that I won’t forgive. I love Mateo when it’s easy, and I love him more when it’s hard.
“Maybe he wants leverage,” Adrian suggests. “Maybe he’s using you to get it.”
It’s not unusual for Mateo to use me, but it’s ordinarily much sexier than this.
“Leverage? Like, trap Rafe into something so he can hold it over him?”
Adrian shrugs. “Maybe. Just spit-balling. Like I said, I don’t know.”
“Well, if that’s what he’s doing, he should clue me in so I know what’s going on.”
His eyebrows rise, faint amusement flitting across his face. “Not if he wants it to work. Rafe is perceptive and you don’t have a gift for deception.”
I scowl, wanting to argue, but he’s not wrong.
“Just stop asking questions for now. Let me see what I can find out, but don’t stress yourself out over it. Mateo is not testing your loyalty, that’s all I know.”
“So, what should I do about Rafe, then?”
He reaches forward and pats me lightly on the arm. “Just be yourself.”
---
“Make me a drink.”
We’re lounging poolside today. Adrian is busy with Mateo, so we aren’t allowed to leave the mansion. Rafe assured me he could keep me safe if we went out, but I declined. It’s still my job to play hostess, apparently, so we’re doing this instead.
At his command, I turn my head to face him, more than mildly unimpressed.
Raising his eyebrows innocently, he says, “What? I’m thirsty.”
Adjusting my sunglasses, I turn my face back toward the sun and close my eyes. “You know where the bar is.”
“I liked you better in Vegas. Do I need to kidnap you to get good service? I can. It seems like a headache, but it can be arranged.”
“If you kidnap me, my husband will kill you.”
“Eh, if he’s in a position to do so,” Rafe says, casually.
My eyes narrow and I turn my head to face him again. “He is.”
Shrugging innocently, Rafe says, “Won’t be for much longer if his bleeding heart wife keeps making him puss out and let people walk all over him.”
After delivering his dig and driving a spike of anxiety into my heart, Rafe pushes up off the chair to go get himself a drink.
At least, that’s my assumption. Until I feel him looming over me, casting a cool shadow. I dread the sight before I even open my eyes. Eyes clenched tightly, I wait for him to go away. He doesn’t.
Apparently he’s just going to stand here blocking my sun forever, so even though it makes my stomach feel funny, I open my eyes to look up at him.
God, he’s intimidating when he wants to be. Looking up at him like this, he’s all sinister shadows, muscular chest, and broad shoulders. His eyes gleam with challenge as they bore into me, his strong jaw set in stone. My brain understands he’s not my master, but his posture tells my brain it’s dead wrong.
I swallow.
This time, his words are more deliberate, his tone harder. This time, he promises unspoken consequences if I disobey the order he has no business issuing. “Mia, be a good girl and go make me a drink.”
Goddammit.
My stomach hollows out. It’s stressful to follow his orders at home, but it stresses me out even more not to. Despite knowing there’s no legitimate cost for disappointing this man I do not belong to, my body tells me I’m supposed to. It goes against my very nature to be difficult just for the sake of being difficult. I like to please people and he likes to be pleased—simple enough, in theory. Even though we’re not in Vegas, even though I’m no longer at anyone’s mercy, even though I have status here and could decline without consequence, I can’t help rising.
He doesn’t move as I step around him and walk to the bar. I steal glances in his direction as I grab a glass and pour him a drink. He does turn to look at me, but the asshole doesn’t move. It would be effortless to at least come collect this drink, but he doesn’t. When I finish pouring, he makes me bring it to him.
A slow smile claims his lips as the drink transfers from my hand into his. His eyes never leave mine. “See, now was that so hard?” His tone is as smooth as the liquor. Still holding my gaze, a glint of amusement in his brown eyes now that I’ve submitted to his will, he takes a drink.
My chest feels funny.
“You’re not supposed to boss me around here,” I inform him. My tone is milder than I intend. I want it to be fiery and in-charge, but it comes out sounding more like a request.
“Why not?” he asks, simply. “You like to be bossed around.”
“By my husband,” I state.
Rafe smiles. “I know you’re married, little one. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”
“Then you should respect my husband enough to stop doing that,” I inform him.
Cocking his head, he slightly narrows his eyes and ponders, “Is it disrespecting your husband? He’s not around—and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it when he is.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, frowning and taking a seat on my lounger.
Since I don’t know, he decides for all of us. “I think it’s fine. I won’t boss you around when Mateo is here, how’s that?”
Instead of answering him, I change the subject. “What kind of business are you in town for?”
Apparently amused, he takes a seat back on the lounger beside mine and looks out at the pool. “Aw, come on, you know I can’t tell you that.”
“I’m married to the Chicago boss; you could probably tell me.”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
I offer him a thin smile. “The last Morelli who planned to kill me married me instead.”
Rafe nods, like he understands that progression. “And you probably don’t need another husband.”
“Definitely not,” I readily agree. “I’m crazy about the one I have.”
“You struggle to get me a drink without fear of disrespecting him; I don’t even want to think what a struggle it would be to get my dick in your mouth.”
My jaw drops at his gall. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Like I can’t grab your ass?” he tosses back. “Did you not tell him? Because he sure as shit didn’t say anything to me about it.”
Rafe is so going to get himself killed. “You really need to leave,” I tell him, honestly.
My discomfort seems to amuse him. He decides to drop back to his scenario from a moment ago. “Of course, you could like the struggle. Maybe you’d get off on it.”
“Stop,” I say, seriously.
He doesn’t. “Maybe you’d like if I came over there and pinned you to that lounger, held you down, shoved my hand down inside those tiny bikini bottoms you’ve been prancing around in today.”
“Stop it,” I say again, with more force. “Too far. Stop it.”
Shrugging casually, he winks at me before remarking, “Nothing I haven’t done before.”
“I’m sober this time,” I inform him, unamused. “Your flirting is way over the line.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Adrian,” he informs me.
Despite my righteous irritation, the steel in his tone causes my heart to slide down my throat. He’s absolutely right. He’s not Adrian. Adrian is safe and loyal. Adrian cares about me and Mateo.
Rafe is a relative stranger. A potentially dangerous, threatening, disrespectful stranger. I realize this behavior isn’t new, and it shouldn’t surprise me. I was out of my element in Vegas and behaving differently, but he wasn’t. He was right at home, behaving exactly the way he likes to behave.
In Vegas, he got off on embarrassing Vince and taking control of me. Since I was angry at Vince, we were on the same side, but if he thinks to play the same game with Mateo, that obviously changes.
Rafe was never a nice man. When our interests aligned and I needed him, sure, he was a lifeline. But now I don’t need him, and he remains the same man he was in Vegas. A man so sure of himself and his own position—whatever that even is—that after spending time with me on only two separate occasions, he made the decision on his own to undermine his boss’ son and bring me back to Chicago.
This is not a man who plays well with other men.
I know one other man like that, and no, it is certainly not Adrian.
I want to flee, but I don’t. Fleeing will only make it clear he gets under my skin. “Are you always this aggressive?” I ask him.
He smiles easily. “Not always. I play the hand that needs playing.”
“Well… why don’t we call a truce? I don’t want to play games.”
“I heard you like games,” he says, mildly.
“I do—safe games. Fun games. Not dangerous games. I am blissfully happy here. This isn’t like Vegas, I’m not…”
“In need,” he supplies.
Even though it’s unflattering, it’s true. “Yes. I’m not in need. I didn’t think I was using you, but maybe I was. I’m sorry.”
This makes him smile again. He doesn’t respond, just sips his drink, then places it on the ground beside him. “That’s better. I like when you’re sweet.”
“I like when you don’t make me nervous,” I return.
“Remember when I made you comfortable?” he asks, easily. “Why do you think that’s different now?”
Uncomfortable isn’t even adequate terminology for the way he’s making me feel. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want him to stop, so I don’t answer.
His smile widens. “How is it you’ve lived this life for five years and you’re still so sheltered? Does Mateo keep you locked away like he did Beth?”
“He keeps us safe,” I reply, hearing my own defensiveness. “There are threats outside these walls, so naturally he feels better when we’re inside.”
“I think that’s an excuse,” Rafe decides, so cavalier in the way he judges our life. “I think he keeps you locked up so you can’t cause more trouble than you already do. Beth was a troublemaker too, you know.”
“I am not a troublemaker.”
“Mateo’s lucky Adrian was born with loyalty in his bones. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t taken Mateo out and replaced him already.”
I scowl. “He would never.”
Rafe shrugs, unimpressed by my vehemence. “His mistake. Should’ve pounced as soon as Mateo started showing weakness.”
I want to get up and demand he stop saying things like this—as if stopping him from saying it can stop him from thinking it—but I manage to keep my blood from boiling over. Adrian told me to listen, so I will.
I’m still going to defend my husband; I’ll just have to do it without stabbing Rafe in the face. “Mateo has never shown weakness. Mateo is a brilliant leader and he has issued plenty of unpleasant calls. He’s had to eliminate his own siblings, for fuck’s sake.”
“Sure, and that was right,” Rafe states. “That’s what you do to a threat—you eliminate it. You’ve declawed him, though. You get in his way when he tries to deal with people who would hurt him.”
“That is not true. I would never try to save someone who is harming Mateo.”
Rafe’s eyebrows rise. “You already have—on more than one occasion.”
“I meant a threat. Like, an actual threat, not…”
He gives me a minute to finish that sentence, and when I don’t, he nods. “So did I.”
“Vince was just… he was young and it was a long time ago. Mateo had done some things to me that hurt Vince—”
He holds up a hand. “Let me stop you right there. I don’t care.”
I frown. “What?”
“Reasons don’t matter. Actions do. Did he collude to have Mateo killed?”
My spirits droop a little. “Yes.”
“Then he should be dead.”
“It’s not always that black and white,” I insist.
“Yes, it is,” he disagrees. “It absolutely is. You have feelings—congratulations. Your feelings don’t matter. If you want your family to be safe, your husband to be feared and respected, you let him deal with things the way he knows works. Otherwise, you’re inviting stronger predators who smell blood in the water and know they can do a better job. You’re putting your own family at risk for the benefit of people who hurt you. There’s a reason kind-hearted people don’t make it to the top in this business, Mia.”
I can’t take it anymore. He’s making me itch with anxiety. I sit up on the lounger, grabbing my phone from the ground and standing. “Mateo already told me if Vince fucks up again, he’s dead. I won’t get in his way again. I just wanted Vince to have a chance at a better life. If he throws this one away, I’ve already told Mateo I will respect his decision.”
I feel his eyes on me, so I glance his way as I walk around the lounger and head for the path back to the house. “And Meg?” he asks, meeting my gaze.
“Mateo already told me I have no say now in how he deals with Meg,” I state.
“But did he mean it? Or is he going easier on her to keep you happy?”
The tension in my shoulders is no joke. I need to go schedule a massage or something. “Enjoy the pool. I’m going inside. I’ll see you at dinner.”