He smirks. “Funny the way money works. Those with very little have a hard time getting more; those with way too much can multiply it almost without trying.”
“Does everything come easy to you?”
“No,” he says, watching me. “Money, power, those are easy. Finding genuineness is more difficult. If I ever lost the money and the power, I wouldn’t have anything left. I would rebuild, I would acquire them again, but there’s no one who would stick by me because they want to. People give me their loyalty out of fear, nothing more.”
Frowning lightly, I say, “That can’t be true.”
He shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. “Why did you stop loving your husband?”
My frown drops, replaced by surprise. “Oh. I didn’t really stop, I never started. I mean, I had feelings for him once, at the beginning, but then I started to realize how shaky and unreliable he was and I pulled away. I just also had poor enough timing that right when I started pulling away was when I started getting morning sickness, and I realized I was pregnant.”
“You weren’t married already?”
“No,” I drawl, shaking my head. “Nope. We’d only been together a few months. I don’t think he put condoms on the right way; they broke three different times. Apparently one of those times resulted in Lily.”
“So why’d you marry him?”
I grimace. “At the risk of sounding like a moron, because I was pregnant. I know that’s not a good reason, but I grew up without a father and it didn’t go so well for me. Once I found out Lily was a girl, I just…” I trail off, shrugging. “I thought she’d be safer and more secure inside a traditional family.”
“Safer?” he questions, watching me.
“Creeps tend to target single moms. They have kids, they’re busy, they’re stuck carrying a heavy load on their own. They have vulnerable little girls and they don’t always notice things.”
He doesn’t speak, just continues to watch.
I make a face. “I don’t want to go dark on you.”
“Go dark.”
“One of my mom’s boyfriends…” I trail off, shaking my head. “He was a perv, I was a kid. It sort of wrecked me for a couple of years, and my mom wasn’t—she didn’t want to believe me, so. I mean, obviously Lily would never have to contend with that aspect, but I just didn’t want to open that door to begin with. I’d rather have Lily safe and happy, and if Rodney wouldn’t have been so irresponsible I could’ve made it work, but he just couldn’t stop sinking us.”
“Your mother’s boyfriend—what was his name?”
“Why?”
He shrugs lazily. “Curiosity.”
Smiling lightly, I tease, “You gonna send a goon squad after him?”
He merely raises his eyebrows.
“Oh.” I laugh, taken off-guard. “That’s not necessary. It was a long time ago, I’m fine now, you don’t have to…” I pause, cocking my head in consideration. Actually, the world probably wouldn’t miss him. “Arthur Broderick. If you’re gonna whack him, make sure you show me a picture first so I know you have the right guy.”
Smirking, he says, “I’ll get Adrian on it right away.”
“Wow, power is fun,” I tell him.
“You’re the strangest combination of warm and cold I’ve ever come across,” he states.
“Thank you, I think?”
Nodding, he verifies, “It was a compliment. I find it fascinating.”
Reaching a finger out to trail down his bare chest, I return, “I find you fascinating.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs, the bedding rustling as he pulls me closer. “Let’s see if I can fascinate you one more time tonight.”
I grin, tilting my neck as his lips move there like a magnet, more than happy to be fascinated by him.
Chapter Eleven
Mateo isn’t home for lunch, but he is for dinner. Since it’s not a mandatory Sunday dinner, there aren’t a lot of people there. Francesca is working at the bakery, Vince and Mia only come on Sundays, Joey usually only seems to show up when Vince does. Tonight it’s just Mateo, Alec, and Adrian. Despite it only being the three of them, they all sit in their usual seats, so Mateo’s by himself at the head of the table, Adrian at the opposite end with Alec next to him.
After I bring out the final course, Mateo calls me over.
I roll my eyes, but lean down to take a taste of his food anyway.
He doesn’t stop me, but he doesn’t even watch while I do it. He pulls a manila folder across the table, sliding it in front of me.
I finish the bite of his food, then frown at the folder in confusion. “You want me to open it?”
He nods, grabbing his silverware and cutting into his steak.
I flip it open, and I’m a little stunned—and a little grossed out—to see an 8×10 of Arthur Broderick, clearly taken without his knowledge, as he heads into his apartment building. He’s a good ten years older now and looking pretty haggard, but it’s definitely him.