Adrian is not amused. If anything, he’s less amused now than he was a moment ago. Apparently he decides that’s more pressing than what we’re doing right here, because he slides his finger across his phone and steps outside to call my brother.
Ethan glances back in the living room, then looks to Sal. “Why don’t we get you two out of here? Your location’s blown all to hell anyway, so if this doesn’t go the way you think it will, there’s not much we can do about it now.”
Sal nods and looks over at me. “You need to grab your purse or anything?”
“Are we coming back here?” I ask, tempted to glance over my shoulder. I feel a little sad that they killed his dad in the living room, not just because they killed his dad, but because I had already fallen in love with the idea of him buying us this house, and now that’s obviously not going to work. I can’t ask him to curl up and watch movies in the same living room where his dad was killed.
“I’m not completely sure what happens now,” he states. “It depends on your brother.”
I run upstairs to grab my purse. When I get back downstairs, the men are in the kitchen waiting for me. Adrian has rejoined the group, and he nods for me to follow him.
“Wait, I want to ride with Sal,” I tell him.
“You can see Sal later.”
Sal speaks up now. “I’m not sending her to Mateo by herself.”
Adrian spins back around, clearly losing patience with both of us. “Look, do you want it to turn into a pissing contest? Because that’s what will happen if you go in with her. You’re both better off if Francesca meets him alone first, then he’ll talk to you. Trust me; he wants to talk to you, too.”
“It’s fine,” I say, before Sal can even respond. I nod my head, because Adrian is right. As much as I’m dreading this next encounter, it needs to be just me and Mateo. If Sal comes with me, it will be so much worse.
“Then I’m following you,” he tells me, immovably. “I’m not sending you there unprotected.”
“She doesn’t need protecting from her own brother,” Adrian snaps.
“Yeah? Tell that to Luciana Morelli,” Sal shoots back.
“Okay.” I hold up a hand, stepping past them to go out to the garage. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Chapter Thirty Two
Francesca
Mateo stands perched at the edge of his desk, staring down at me as I squirm in my chair. I’ve been sitting here for a good five minutes waiting for him to speak, and he hasn’t. I assume that means he’s waiting for me to start, but I don’t know what to say. There’s plenty that needs to be said, but I ugh, I don’t want to.
So I keep sitting there, and he keeps waiting.
Finally, he pushes off the desk and heads over to the alcohol cart. He comes back with a glass for each of us, and I grimace as I take mine.
“Because it went so well last time?” I ask dryly.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Well, look at that, you’re already talking.”
Heaving a sigh, I balance the alcohol on my legs and lament this choice of outfit. I’m wearing yoga pants and a cotton T-shirt, while he’s standing there in his three piece suit. I might as well be wearing pajamas. I should’ve changed clothes before I came in to meet him so I at least felt a little more dignified.
“I’m really, really sorry,” I tell him, daring a glance in his direction.
“For which part?” he asks, eyebrows rising. “For sneaking around with Salvatore? For framing Meg? For lying to me? For using Mia to distract me? For pretending to give a fuck? For the information you undoubtedly leaked to people who tried to kill me? For putting Mia at risk? For putting Meg’s life in jeopardy? I know she’s not your favorite, but I can’t imagine you feel good about nearly getting her killed.”
“I didn’t. I had nothing to do with that. Sal had nothing to do with that. His father acted alone—Sal never would have gone along with it. He wants peace with you, not war. I understand how it might look because you’ve been in the dark, and I’m really sorry about that, but what else could I do? I knew you wouldn’t let me date him if I asked; you’d just assume he was using me and I was too stupid to see it.”
“Because that’s certainly never happened before,” Mateo states, unkindly.
I press my lips together, narrowing my eyes at him. “Low blow.”
“So was everything you did.”
At least I have the decency to bow my head, ashamed of having hurt him. He sure as hell never extends the same courtesy. “The man I love let his father be murdered today to protect your ass. If he’s using me for some dastardly end, you’ve gotta commend his dedication.”