I don’t make it to my bedroom. The alcohol is still hitting me harder than I realize and I sink down the wall in the hallway, pulling my knees up to my chest. I bury my face in my hands and sob. Guilt like I’ve never felt before tears at me. It didn’t even feel like this when I hurt Vince, not to my recollection. The idea that I just betrayed the man I love more than anything makes me want to die.
“What is wrong with me?” I cry out, to no one. To the ugly fucking marble floor. To the house I hate more than anything. I want to burn this house down. I wonder how easy it is to burn a house down. I hate this house and everyone in it—I want to watch it all burn.
I want matches.
There are matches by the grill.
I push myself up on wobbly legs and hold onto the rail on the staircase so I don’t fall down the steps. I make it to the bottom step, and though my gait is questionable, there’s a little bounce in my step now. My brain is so foggy, but suddenly I am positive matches will make everything better. If I get matches I can burn this house down and Mateo will forgive me.
“What are you doing?”
Rafe.
I look up at him towel drying his hair as he watches me search the grill.
“I need matches,” I tell him.
“Why do you need matches?”
I found them! “To start a fire.”
“Okay,” he says, again patiently. He takes the matches out of my hand.
“Hey! Give those back.”
“I’m not giving them back. Why do you need to start a fire?”
“I’m going to burn this fucking house down.”
Nodding like that’s what he figured, he says, “No matches for you, little one.”
“Stop calling me that.” I intend for it to come out strong and angry, but it comes out small, like a plea. “Stop it. Stop bossing me around. Stop reminding me of Mateo. I can’t take it. I want to be home with him more than anything and Vince won’t let me leave, and I hate this. He never should’ve brought me here. I want to be back in my bed; I want my life back.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until he wraps an arm around me and pulls me against his still-damp body. I don’t even think, I just react, wrapping my arms around him and sobbing into his chest.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Rafe glances back, releasing his hold on me as Vince storms over, glaring at both of us.
I’m the one Vince is glaring at hardest though. This is all his fault. I hate him. He brought me to this godawful place and put me in this horrible situation, so when Rafe lets go, I step forward and shove Vince as hard as I can. He isn’t braced for it and stumbles back a step, surprise flashing across his handsome features.
“I hate you,” I tell him, my voice gravelly. “You’ve taken everything from me, and I wish he would have really killed you that night. I’d rather live with that guilt all my life and have him than be stuck here with you.”
I don’t wait around to see how Vince reacts; I go to storm upstairs. I’m unprepared when he grabs me and pushes me against the outside wall, glaring at me. “Stop being so fucking mean, Mia.”
“Never,” I say, shoving his chest. “Never. I’m going to be your worst fucking nightmare. I’ll never accept this. I’ll never adapt. I’m going to punish you for everything you’ve cost me. I’m going to make your life hell. I’m going to ruin every last drop of good within you until we both go down in flames. You want to keep me here against my will, you want to take me away from the man I love, you want to ruin my life? I will drag your ass down with me. I hope you’ve fully embraced your blood, Vince, because I’m going to make you loathe me. You’re probably right that I’ll die by the hands of a fucking Morelli, but it won’t be Mateo.”
He looks like he wants to kill me right now. He slams his hand against the wall beside me, but I can feel the violence coursing through him. I can feel his rage. I’m too drunk and reckless to try to disarm him, so I glare at him instead, daring him without words to put a fucking hand on me.
“Okay, why don’t you take a step back, little cousin.”
I glance over at Rafe. I didn’t even notice him approach, but he’s watching this horrible scene unfold, apprehension painted all over his handsome face.
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business, Rafe,” Vince returns, glaring at him. “And keep your fucking hands off her, too. I don’t know what the hell that was, but I didn’t like it.”