Accidental Witness (Morelli Family 1)

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s not like I haven’t seen proof of precisely that since joining their fucked up family.

“I don’t want to be like that, Mia.”

“Then don’t,” I say simply.

“I’m so sorry for last night,” he says, meeting my gaze.

“I know. It’s okay. We don’t have to… It’s over. I forgive you. We’re okay. I just want us to get past everything. I don’t want to dwell.”

“No matter what happens, nothing like that will ever happen to you again at my hands.”

Offering a supportive smile, I nod. “I know.”

“And you were right about what you said, too. Mateo can’t get between us unless we let him. I’m not gonna let him anymore.”

“Neither am I,” I state.

Leaning in to touch his forehead against mine, Vince asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Smiling slightly, I tell him, “Always.”

Chapter Twenty Seven

It’s easier to stay out from under the cloud of gloom now that I’m out of Mateo’s room and back in Vince’s. I still think about the possibility of cameras all the time, because there aren’t any visible in Vince’s room, which means there are hidden ones. Vince hasn’t touched me again, giving me time to heal, but I think about it when we’re lying in bed. Will Mateo be able to watch? I guess I shouldn’t care so much. Voyeurism would at least be less intrusive than what he’s already done.

Between school, the bakery, and hiding out in Vince’s room, I don’t have to see Mateo again until Wednesday night.

Maria comes to tell me Mateo wants to see me in his study before dinner. She brings a garment bag, but I don’t even open it.

“What if I don’t go?” I ask. I don’t know why I think she could anticipate his reaction, but I really, really don’t want to find myself alone with him again. Especially not right now, when I have no idea of his mental state. Is he pissed that his little plan didn’t work? That I’m back with Vince? Will he redouble his attempts to break us up? I know Vince is fighting to stay with me now and to keep Mateo out of our relationship, but I’m not sure how we will hold up under the reality. If Mateo decides to keep me as a plaything, will Vince be able to handle it? Will I?

Warily shaking her head, Maria said, “You don’t say no to Mateo.”

“But what if I do?”

“I think you can guess,” she states. “He isn’t alone. Adrian is with him.”

That makes me breathe a lot easier. He may be a creep, but I don’t think he’d rape me in front of Adrian.

“Why does he want to see me?”

She merely shrugs, leaving the room.

In a small act of defiance, I don one of the dresses Vince gave me.

I don’t know where Vince is, but I wish I did. I really don’t want to go to Mateo’s study without telling him. We haven’t discussed how we’ll deal with this, but my instinct is that I should be as open as possible when I’m going to be around him. Secrets will only make him stop trusting me again.

I haven’t decided how that openness will work concerning sexual activity. I hope to God it never comes up again, but I have no idea how to handle it if it does.

When I show up in the study, Adrian is still there, so I breathe a little easier. Mateo’s leaning against his desk, drink in hand, and he allows his eyes to move over my body. I expect him to react to my not wearing whatever dress he must have sent up, but his perusal of my body only turns up pleasure.

“Mia,” he says warmly.

Staying by the door, I square my shoulders. “Maria said you wanted to see me.”

“Correct. You can come closer.”

“I’m all right.”

Cocking his head to the side, he gives me about two seconds, then he pushes off the desk and strides over to me. I fall back a step, but I know I can’t leave. He stops in front of me, looking down at me, seeming to shrink me with his gaze. After several long seconds, he reaches behind me and shoves the study door closed.

“Just because I’m letting you sleep in Vince’s bed, Mia, don’t get confused and think you’re allowed to start defying me.” Furthering his point, he drags the back of two fingers across my collar bone, dipping threateningly toward my cleavage.

Body taut with tension, I offer a barely perceptible nod. I don’t relish the reminder that whatever victory it feels like we’ve achieved, we only have it because he’s allowing it.

His hand leaves me, but the tension doesn’t leave my body.

“Tomorrow night I’m hosting a poker game. I want you to come.”

“I don’t know how to play poker.”

That makes him laugh. The bastard gives me another warm smile, like he just finds me goddamn delightful. “No, you won’t be playing. You’ll be there to help out. To look pretty,” he adds with a wink.