Chapter Sixteen
“I knew you were bad, but I didn’t know you were this bad.”
Mateo licks the last of his vanilla ice cream from the spoon, then nods at me. “I’ll understand if this is too much for you.”
I got a much bigger serving of ice cream than he did, so I plunge my spoon in and get ready to dump more into my mouth. “You never even finish your dessert at dinner. I never took you for a midnight ice cream sneak.”
“I have cravings.”
Wiggling my eyebrows as I lean into his side on the big, comfy couch, I say, “Oh, so do I.”
He smiles, leaning forward to put his empty ice cream dish on the coffee table in the sitting room, then sinks back into the couch and wraps his arm around me again.
“Why is French vanilla so good?” I ask, shaking my head as I stare accusingly at the spoon. “You shouldn’t encourage me to eat ice cream in the middle of the night. I have dresses to fit into.”
“I figured if I couldn’t sleep, you shouldn’t either,” he returns.
“How kind and thoughtful,” I joke.
“Those are the first words people generally use to describe me.”
Spooning more frozen deliciousness into my mouth, I ask, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
He shrugs, and I feel it since I’m wrapped in his arms. “Got a lot on my mind.”
“Like?”
“Adrian’s leaving and I don’t want to replace him. Got someone trying to kill me, don’t really want that to happen. Trying to sleep next to someone I just want to wake up and fuck all night long, but I’m trying to be nice and let her sleep.”
“Let’s unpack those first two,” I say, tilting my head back to look at him. “Then after I finish this ice cream, we can get to work on that third thing.”
“I’m not used to having someone like you to talk about this stuff with,” he states.
It’s a simple thing to admit, but it feels important. A man like Mateo has a lot of people around him all the time, but not a lot of actual friends. I remember Mia telling me something like that when I first asked her about him—how what he really needs is someone he can rely on.
I take his hand, giving it a little squeeze. “You never talked about this stuff with…” I trail off, actually not sure who I should ask about. Mia or Beth? Probably Beth, since Mia wasn’t a full-fledged girlfriend.
Not making me figure it out, he says, “I talked about stuff with Beth. Turned out not to be such a good idea.”
“Well, that’s not the case here,” I assure him. “Why is Adrian leaving?”
“Because his time’s up. Adrian’s never wanted to work for me; he was just working off a debt. Now that he’s free to leave, that’s what he’ll do.”
It’s weird to think about life without Adrian. Now that I think about it, Adrian is always around somewhere, usually with Mateo, but occasionally with me. Either way, he’s an institution in this household. “You can’t entice him to stay?” I ask.
He shakes his head and begins toying with the locket hanging around my neck. “I tried. None of his potential replacements are even half as good as he is. Adrian catches shit that most people don’t—sometimes even me, and I notice just about everything. People fear me, I’m the one with the power, but I keep it by having men like him. I stay alive by having men like him.”
“Then you’ve gotta convince him. Want me to talk to him? I’ll offer him ice cream.”
Cracking a smile, he twists the chain around his finger. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
“What happens once he leaves, then? I mean, will people stay in line, or…?”
“I don’t know. It would be a good time to make a move on me. Transition is never smooth.”
“You should stay home until you break someone else in.”
Mateo rolls his eyes, but smiles at my concern. “I can’t hide. Quite the opposite—when they’re looking for weakness, that’s when you have to show strength. I don’t want more, that’s why I’ve tried co-existing with Castellanos this long, but you can’t just bow out. At this point it’s more about maintaining what I’ve already got. This greedy motherfucker’s making that impossible though. I still don’t know who my leak is. Plenty to worry about right now.”
I set my ice cream aside and climb off the couch, getting on my knees behind him so I can rub his shoulders. “Well, I don’t know how to help, but if you think of anything I can do, let me know.”
“You just keep doing what you’re doing,” he says. “You’re the only part of my life I don’t have complaints about right now.”
“Yay!” I say, leaning down and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “That makes me happy.”
He catches my head, turning to give me a lengthier kiss.
When I pull back, I go back to his shoulder rub. “Anyway, so what about this Castellanos guy? Why can’t you just have someone take him out if he’s the problem?”
“Well, I can, and I’ll probably have to. Problem with that is that he’s the head of the family and if I move against them that way, it’ll start a war none of us wanted. And I lose that war as soon as I start it, because if I lose—well, self-explanatory, and if I win, I get control over territory I have no interest in. I don’t take control of it, someone else will, someone I can’t control, and then down the road I have the exact same problem. I want peace, and that’s hard to come by in this business.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I wish I had more to offer than that. It does sound like a real problem, and a dangerous problem. “Can I ask you something sort of unrelated?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the deal with your dad? Obviously not anymore, but I wandered upstairs when we were staying in the servant house, and, well, your dad’s apparently up there.”
“Yeah, fucker won’t die.”
My eyebrows rise, but I continue kneading his shoulders. “So, you’re close?” I ask lightly.
“He’s a bastard. I mentioned him—your necklace.”
“Yeah, I remember. I got the abbreviated version though. You said you told Beth about it when you gave her the necklace. I just sort of got the ‘don’t betray me, there’s a story, take this necklace, let’s have sex’ version. Which, not complaining, but…”
He leans back to smile at me. “Is that a direct quote?”
“Verbatim.”
He sighs, but remains tilted back, looking at me. “It’s a dark story.”
“I’ll bring my flashlight.”
He takes my hand and walks me back around the couch, tugging me down into his lap and holding me. “My father, also Mateo, but everyone calls him Matt. Anyway, he didn’t want to be in the business. He was more like Vince in that regard. He tried to leave the life behind, which isn’t a thing you can just do, especially if you’re the eldest son of the last boss and destined to take things over. He ran anyway. They found him. This girl Belle got mixed up in it—I think she was just a waitress. He was trying to steal her car and she wouldn’t get out, so she ended up mixed up in it. I always heard she did like him a bit then, who knows if it’s true? Regardless, she didn’t once she got stuck with him. The family trapped them together, tied her life to him. They ended up married. My father was okay with it, but she wasn’t. Instead of getting used to him, she actively rejected him. Got bad.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Our bakery, the one Francesca runs, she started working there just to get away from him. There was a male baker…”
“Uh oh.”
He nods. “They had an affair. She got pregnant. My dad tried to kill her, but his sister intervened. She was the paper person, made forged documents and that, so she helped Belle escape with my older sister and this baker. My mom was already on his hook at this point. He had started trying to punish Belle with unfaithfulness—which was a bad strategy, since she didn’t want anything to do with him, but A for effort, I guess. So he and my mom got together, and he spent years torturing her until she killed herself to escape him.”
“Jeeze. That is dark.”
“Not done,” he says, giving me a little squeeze. “So, years after my mom died, his guys finally found Belle.”
“Uh oh again.”
“Yeah. My sister Luciana was in school. My dad sent a car for her so she didn’t go home. He slaughtered everyone else—Belle, the baker, their twins. It was…” Sighing heavily, he says, “I’ve done some bad shit in my time, but my father derives life force from the misery of those around him.”
“Oh my god,” I say, stomach sinking at the scene he’s painted.
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t be vengeful in the same situation, but… I give you midnight ice cream and shopping sprees.”
I lean back to glance up at him. “You definitely do not make me miserable. I’ll put that in another card for you. Man, I’m so free with the—Oh, God, that first time I said I wouldn’t kill myself to get away from you, didn’t I?” I remember, turning to stare at him in horror. “I didn’t know about your mom. That was a horrible joke. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says easily. “So, that’s volume one. Then he did a whole bunch of other heinous shit. I’m more a mental tormentor; he’s always gone for the physical type. Unsurprisingly also not a great father.”
“You haven’t mentally tormented me—much,” I add, since there was that whole awful crate incident. We won’t speak of that.
“Give it time,” he says lightly.
“I think I prefer ice cream and shopping sprees to mental torture and manipulation. Let’s stick with what works.”
“I’ll consider it,” he says, glancing at the ice cream. “Did you finish that? We have a third thing to get to work on, remember?”
I grab the bowl, scooping up the mostly melted mess. “I’ve been training for this my whole life. Give me a minute.”
He checks the watch on his wrist. “I’m counting.”
“I love that you wear an actual watch,” I tell him, shoveling spoonfuls of melty ice cream into my mouth. “It’s so sexy and I don’t know why.”
“You’re so crazy,” he says, shaking his head, giving up the pretense of timing me. “Why do you like me so much?”
I give an exaggerated shrug as I finish the last of it, slamming it theatrically down onto the table. “I did it!” Without another word, I turn around and straddle him, right there on the couch in the sitting room.
“I thought we were going to bed,” he reminds me, though his hands are already sliding up under my shirt.
“The bed’s kind of far,” I point out, helping him get my shirt over my head.
---
I’m craving kung pao chicken like my life legitimately depends on eating it.
With rice. And an egg roll. Oh, my god.
I don’t know if Adrian is still giving me rides, since Mateo didn’t specify when his last day actually is, so I text Mateo to ask who is responsible for shuttling me around today.
Last stretch of employment or not, Adrian is the one who shows up to escort me.
I’m picky about my Chinese, though. Disappointing Chinese food is one of life’s great tragedies, so I make Adrian drive me all the way into the city instead of stopping at the place up the road.
“Does Mateo like doughnuts?” I ask as we head to the entrance of the restaurant. “I’m gonna order some of the doughnuts. They’re basic, but so delicious.”
“Mateo doesn’t like sweets,” Adrian informs me.
“They’re not that sweet though. And he likes ice cream.”
“Only when he’s in the mood for it.”
I shouldn’t be so easily amused, but now all I can envision is Mateo and Adrian spooning in the sitting room, eating midnight ice cream.
“When’s your last day?” I ask him.
Appearing somewhat startled, he says, “What?”
“Mateo told me you’re leaving.”
Seeming uncomfortable, he tells me, “I’ll be at family dinner this Sunday, then I won’t be anymore.”
“It seemed like you were part of the family. I can’t imagine you not being around. Will you ever stop by to visit?”
As if I’ve asked something utterly ridiculous, he shakes his head. “No.”
“So, Sunday’s goodbye?” I don’t try to hide my disappointment. He should know he’ll be missed.
“I’m not part of the Morelli family,” he states. “I never was, I never will be.”
“I disagree,” I tell him, letting him open the door for me.
“Well, it won’t be the first or last time you’re wrong,” he mutters.
“I thought you and Mateo were friends.”
“No. Not friends.”
I think he’s being obstinate, but I don’t bother arguing as I head for the line to place my order. I didn’t consider that it’s lunch time, and they have a lunch special, so the place is crawling with people. It takes forever to get up to the register just to place the order, and then they tell us it’ll be a fifteen-minute wait anyway.
Adrian is displeased.
“I understand your time is valuable, but I might’ve died without kung pao chicken,” I explain to him reasonably.
“Better chance you’ll die with it,” he says, raking an unimpressed look around the little hole in the wall restaurant.
“At least I’ll die happy.”
A few more minutes tick by, then Adrian catches the server’s attention. “You got a bathroom in here?”
Nodding, she indicates a long hall at the back of the restaurant, lit by a garish, flickering light.
“Great,” he mutters, glancing back at me. “I’ll be back.”
Adrian’s barely down the hall when a guy behind me leans in and murmurs, “Your boyfriend’s impatient.”
I glance back in surprise. There are too many people in the restaurant—we’re three deep in a line right now, jam packed like a tin of sardines. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Really?” he asks, stepping up beside me.
Recognizing his interest, I add, “That came out wrong. He’s not my boyfriend, but I do have one.”
“Too bad for me,” he says with a charming smile.
I take another look at him, lightly rolling my eyes, but with a tolerant smile. He’s pretty attractive, I won’t lie. He’s no Mateo Morelli, but if I’d met him before, I’d probably be a little more interested. Tall and lean with a sculpted face, somehow smooth and hard-edged at the same time. He has piercing gray eyes, and a smirk that just tells you he’s gotta be an asshole.
I’m also pretty sure he spent more time fixing his short, dark hair this morning than I spent on mine.
That reminds me that my hair is legitimately pulled up into a messy bun on top of my head, and he should not be hoping I’m single.
“You should get the doughnuts,” he tells me, nodding toward the registers. “They’re really good.”
I glance at him again. “I did, actually.”
“Good taste,” he says, offering a little wink.
Laughing a little, I say, “Okay.”
“What?” he asks innocently.
“Nothing.” I shake my head slowly, glancing at the hallway Adrian disappeared down.
“Does your boyfriend know you’re getting lunch with some other guy?”
“Why are you so interested in my boyfriend?” I return, lifting an eyebrow.
“I’m not,” he says, smoothly letting his eyes drop down my body, letting me watch him do it. “I’m interested in you, and I think you’re making the boyfriend up.”
“Trust me, the boyfriend’s real.”
“Been with him long? Maybe you should dump him.”
I snort, wishing I could tell this ass who my boyfriend actually is. “No, thanks.”
“Just saying,” he says, hands in his pockets as he shrugs. “You could trade up.”
“Trust me, I can’t,” I tell him, amused.
“Hey, can’t say I didn’t try,” he states.
“No, no one will ever say that,” I assure him.
“One more thing.” He leans in, way too close. I lean back a little, not even on purpose, just intuitively. “I left my phone in the car, and I don’t know how much time I got to get back to work.”
“Oh.” It takes me a second to react, then I finally extract mine from my handbag, touching the screen and lighting it up. I hold up the phone to show him the time.
“Thanks, you’re a doll,” he tells me, his eyes lingering on the lock screen. “Cute kid. Yours?”
I glance at my lock screen, seeing Lily in her bed, “reading” a bedtime story to her doll. “Yeah.”
Leaning in one more time, he says, “Thanks,” and places a hand at the small of my back before pulling away and retreating back to his spot in the crowd.
I roll my eyes as I slide my phone back into my purse, hoping he doesn’t act like this when Adrian comes back. He’s bound to get punched in the face.
A minute later, Adrian shoulders past people to get back to my side, scowling.
“I’ll give you a doughnut. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
“You okay?” he asks.
My eyebrows rise in surprise, then I frown a little. “Yeah. Are you?”
He nods, glancing back to make sure he isn’t bumping into anyone as we settle back into our spots. I glance behind me where the guy who tried to pick me up was standing, but he must have moved. When I look back at Adrian, he’s watching me again. I don’t know why, and it’s making me uneasy.
“What?”
Eyes still on me, he asks, “You ever met Castellanos?”
I’m so floored that he’s asking me this question at all, let alone in public in a crowd full of people, that I am unable to school my expression. My jaw falls open, my eyes widen, and although I rein it back in after a second, I see something decidedly unpleasant flicker in his gaze in that split second of reaction. I feel like I need to backpedal, and I haven’t even opened my mouth.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Have you?”
I don’t know how to answer that, and unfortunately the truth doesn’t take any time to come up with. “I’ve—No, I—Why would I?”
To say Adrian looks disappointed would be an understatement.
“Why—?”
“Come on,” Adrian says, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me back to the door.
“But—the food isn’t done yet,” I point out, trying to turn back.
“Meg. You want to make a scene?”
I glance around, see a woman looking at us, at his hand, at my face. I force myself to remain calm, but I don’t turn to leave. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You know what’s wrong,” he states.
From behind the counter, I hear, “Order 138.”
“That’s us,” I say quietly, though my stomach is aching now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to eat, after all.
Adrian sighs irritably, turning back and grabbing the bag from the lady before turning back to me. Grabbing hold of my arm like he’s afraid I’ll bolt, he hauls me out to the car.
“Adrian, I don’t understand,” I tell him as he opens the door and waits for me to climb inside. “Why are you mad? What was that? Why—?”
“Just get in,” he interrupts tiredly, dropping the bag of food in the floor.
I glance around the street, but it’s not like I really have any alternative. Finally, I climb into the back seat of Mateo’s Escalade, wondering what the hell I did, and what the hell happens now?