“We’d be brothers,” he remarks. His gaze sharpens and he smiles slowly as he realizes, “You’re older than I am.”
“Barely.”
“That would make you the Morelli heir.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” I say firmly, semi-glaring at him. “I’m not a Morelli. Whether Matt’s full of shit or he isn’t, I’m still me. I’m still Adrian Palmetto. I want nothing to do with your legacy. Knowing Matt, I don’t even know if my mom…” I trail off, shaking my head. It fills me with dread just considering the possibility of sharing that man’s DNA, but not more than knowing what a rapey bastard he was. Mateo’s not above the same behavior, obviously, but Matt certainly never had any of his victims turn into admirers afterward. Thinking of Mia in Mateo’s bed, considering the possibility that it could’ve been my mom in her place with his dad years earlier…
It turns my stomach.
Mateo watches those thoughts play out across my face, then he suddenly asks, “Did they have an affair, or…?”
He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. “I don’t know,” I mutter. “And we never will, so I guess there’s no point thinking about it.”
“You should’ve swabbed his cheek,” he offers.
“I don’t want a test. Like I said, if it’s true, I don’t even want to know.”
Shrugging, he says, “If you change your mind, we could look into it. If it is true, you and I share DNA markers, too.”
“Not interested,” I reiterate.
“This is an interesting prospect,” Mateo says, his flair for the dramatic making him incapable of letting it go. Bastard’s probably going to steal my hair brush and test it himself.
“I don’t want this to be an issue between us,” I state, holding his gaze. “He did, that’s why he said it. If it is true, it doesn’t matter.”
“It would be sort of poetic, wouldn’t it?” he asks, a ghost of a smile on his face.
“It’d be something.”
It’d mean a lot of things. It’d mean I murdered my own brother when I killed Joey. Murdered my own father when I killed Matt. It might mean I’m another Morelli rape baby—and related to Cherie, come to think of it.
Thank God he brought Elise in from the outside world.
The main thing, though, is that it could change the way Mateo looks at me. Not because he’s sentimental, but because he likes power and doesn’t like competition.
I go for lightness when I tell him, “If it did turn out to be true, just know you don’t have to lock me up and drug me to keep me out of your way.”
He sort of smiles, but it doesn’t reach his distant eyes. As soon as I utter the words, I realize Mateo never told me that. As far as anyone in this family knew, Matt was sick. Mateo never told me he just wanted his father’s power.
Not that it bothers me. I’ve lived this life; I know the circumstances. I know Matt. I know how much he hurt Mateo—and literally everyone else—over the years. I know there’s no love between them. Even if Mateo would’ve confided in me that Matt was healthy, fully capable of handling the family affairs himself, I would’ve supported locking the old bastard up and drugging his ass.
But Mateo never told me.
And I just told him I knew.
He doesn’t call me on it, though. I wait for it, but he merely nods his understanding. I guess he figures maybe Matt told me, since I was obviously in with him today.
But Mateo still feels distant, and as much as I hate to admit it, that makes me nervous.
“I’m trying to be open with you,” I tell him.
“I appreciate that.”
“Don’t start plotting against me,” I say, not bothering to pretend he wouldn’t.
Instead of assuring me he won’t, he asks, “Have you made a decision about coming back to work for me long-term?”
“Yeah.” I search his face for something accessible, but come up empty, so I watch for changes instead as I say, “I’m in.”
His expression relaxes just slightly, but the promise of my loyalty is not enough to disarm him this time. I can imagine the thoughts going through his mind—probably running through what he would do in the same circumstances. We’re not alike, but we both have a ruthless streak, an ability to hone in on what we want and go for it, regardless of what’s in the way. I decided I wanted Elise and gave up five years of my life in service to someone I more or less hated just to get her—not even knowing if she’d want me once I did. In pursuit of that end, I’ve done heinous, unconscionable shit that even I don’t think is right—but I did it. To get what I wanted.
Mateo doesn’t have to work that hard for things, but that’s because he was born to excessive privilege. Not just financial wealth, charisma, and good looks, but power, influence, respect. I came into the world with little, lost what I had, and had to fight for every inch of what I have now. If what Matt said is true, I shouldn’t have had to.