His cousin Rafe still has a commanding presence, though. I don’t feel the attraction to him that I felt in Vegas; Mateo is here now, and he’ll never have any real competition for my loyalty. He never has. Even when my loyalty shouldn’t have been his, it was. But I get the impression Rafe could command a room, too. I wonder if that’s why they stay over a thousand miles apart. Maybe in small doses they can coexist, but their competitive natures become an issue and they butt heads with prolonged exposure.
For tonight, though, I enjoy basking in the presence of lions. There’s something so beautiful about them both, and I really like them together. It reminds me of Vegas, when I kept trying to make Rafe like Mateo. Maybe he’s onto something about my instincts—maybe Rafe is a better friend to have than an enemy, and unconsciously I wanted to eliminate even the distant threat by smoothing things over, convincing him to like Mateo.
Or maybe I’m just too peaceable. Who knows?
Eventually Meg comes in. I flash her a smile and approach her, my gaze moving over her cute little baby bump. It’s rounder and more adorable with this pregnancy; with Rosalie it was definitely bulkier.
Splaying my hand over her belly, I give it a little rub. “Hey there, baby Morelli. Did you miss me?”
“Okay, freak, hands off the belly.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I missed you, too.”
She gives me a little hug, but her bump is slightly in the way. “I figured you’d be okay. Just flash your baby blues and Satan himself falls at your feet.” Glancing beyond me at the new Morelli in the room, she doesn’t miss a beat before adding, “Who’s the new eye candy?”
Mateo answers dryly, “Satan, apparently.”
Rafe rolls his eyes. “I’ve never fallen at anyone’s feet. Rafe Morelli. And you are?”
“Meg.”
“No last name?”
“I’m like Prince; I don’t need one.”
Wrapping my arm around her and giving her a squeeze, I tell him, “This is my sister wife.”
Rafe’s golden eyebrows rise. “Excuse me?”
Meg waves me off. “We don’t have to talk about that. It’s boring.”
“It doesn’t sound boring,” Rafe objects. “That sounds very, very interesting.” Now he gestures between the two of us. “You two entertain at the same time?”
Meg winks and offers a suggestive smile. “We have.”
Rafe glances at me, as if imagining that. Finally he looks back at Mateo. “You lead a charmed life, don’t you?”
Mateo merely grins.
Chapter Twenty One
Mia
“Thank you so much.”
The maid glances at me funnily, then nods in acknowledgement as she places my strawberry tort down in front of me. Being made to serve Vince’s family in Vegas has made me a little more appreciative of the help. If they like us, maybe it’s not such a bad gig, but who knows if they actually do. Maria loves us, I think. It’s hard to tell with her, but I’m pretty sure she cares. The newer maid I haven’t paid as much attention to. I guess it’s not like they can give honest feedback. I should implement some kind of check-in with them, to make sure nobody’s miserable here from time to time.
“So, this is the famous family dinner you wanted me to come to, huh?”
Rafe is seated next to Meg, so he’s across the table from me. I shake my head as I cut into my dessert with my fork. “Nope, this is just a normal dinner. On Sundays everybody in the house comes and the Morelli ladies make the dinner and serve the men.”
“That does sound better,” he says, nodding as he reaches for his glass.
“You should stick around for it,” Meg tells him, digging into her tort. Then flashing him a coy smile, she adds teasingly, “I’ll serve you.”
I glance at Mateo, but he doesn’t seem to care that Meg’s been openly flirting with Rafe throughout this whole dinner. I guess if he didn’t care about what he did with me, that shouldn’t surprise me, but it’s different when it’s right in front of him and for no real reason.
Rafe’s gaze moves over her briefly, then he also flicks a curious glance Mateo’s way before returning his attention to his dessert.
“So, is it too sore a subject to ask about the girlfriend of yours Mateo stole?” I ask.
Meg snorts, looking at Mateo. “I knew there were more waiting in the wings.”
Mateo smiles faintly. “I didn’t steal her.”
“Right, right,” Meg says, rolling her eyes. “You only borrow them. Just ask Vince.”
I cut her an unamused look across the table. She grins back cheekily.
At least Rafe is also amused and not salty about it. “He didn’t steal her, but he did ruin her for me, so he might as well have.”
“Well, tell us the story,” I prod, cutting into my dessert with my fork.
“Her name was Rebecca. She was a psych major.”