Accidental Witness (Morelli Family 1)

“Never,” I say. “I never—”

“Just…” He holds a hand up, stopping me. “Once? Twice? More?”

I bow my head, wishing I could disappear. I refuse to answer, I don’t care how many times he asks. Instead I repeat, “I’m sorry. I wish I would’ve listened to you. Trust me, I can’t feel worse than I already do. Nothing you say to me could make this worse—he’s humiliated me enough for both of you.”

He’s still shaking his head, still practically shaking with fury, but his voice is low and unsteady when he says, “I loved you.”

I was wrong.

There was something he could say to make it hurt worse.

A sob bursts out of me, followed by a cluster of hitching breaths, and I sink to the floor, overcome with a feeling of immense loss. Whatever we could have been, whatever we could have had, it was gone. He didn’t want me anymore.

Pushing out an unsteady breath, Vince clears his throat. I look up through my tears, seeing his eyes look a little red, too.

Shaking his head one last time, he turns around and disappears down the hall the way he came.

—

The rest of the day melts away.

With nowhere else to go, Adrian takes me back to Mateo’s room. I would be cynically amused at having to return to the bed where I was raped, but that would require feeling something, and I’m dead empty at this point.

I don’t even flinch when Mateo comes into the room at the end of the day, flicking a glance at me before beginning to undress for the night.

I’m unresponsive when he climbs into bed with me, reminding me of those stupid fucking nights he came to Vince’s room.

“That was a long day, wasn’t it?” he murmurs.

His arm curls around me, like we’re lovers. I don’t attempt to move it, not even when he begins touching me, palming my breasts through my clothing, slipping the button of my jeans through the hole and tugging them down.

I don’t fight when he takes them off, or when he climbs between my legs. I don’t even respond when he enters me dry, painfully, forcing his way even more than he had to this morning, when there was at least some lubrication.

I don’t cry when he comes inside me again.

I don’t object when he gets back into bed afterward and pulls me against him, like we’re fucking snuggling.

I don’t care.

What’s the point?

“Have I broken you already?” he asks lowly, sounding almost disappointed. Not at having possibly damaged me, but that his fun is over, I think.

I don’t know the answer to that question, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t dignify it with a response.

—

He takes my body again the following morning before he gets up and goes to shower. I wonder numbly what Vince would think of how quickly the number is climbing, but thinking Vince’s name pierces the veil of numbness and causes pain, so I stop.

Once Mateo leaves, the door opens and Adrian steps inside. “Are you okay?”

I offer a weak nod.

“Do you want some breakfast? Do you need…anything?”

I shake my head again, but then I pause. “Actually, yes. Get me Elise.”

Surprise flashes across his features briefly, his gaze moving from me to the bed, then back. “Elise?”

I nod.

“Okay,” he finally says, backing out of the room.

It takes a little while, but eventually there’s a light knock at the door and Elise’s blonde head pops in. “Hello,” she greets, smiling until she sees me. “Oh, Mia. Hi.”

“Hi.”

Her gaze rakes over me, over the bed, confused. I guess her confusion at my being in Mateo’s bed indicates everyone doesn’t know, but it’s hard to feel any relief. They will soon enough.

“What can I do for you?” she asks, a little haltingly.

I sit up, wrapping the top bed sheet around my body and dragging the comforter onto the floor as I push up off the bed. Elise gasps at the streaks of blood on the sheets, her cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, dear. Do you need me to get you something for your monthly?”

“That’s not from my monthly,” I say simply.

She stares at the sheets for a moment, then at me, at my bedraggled, dead-eyed appearance. Dread clouds over her clear blue eyes, but I don’t torture her further.

“I need to get in the shower. Could you please see that they’ve been changed before I get out?”

Nodding with her eyes locked on the bed, she murmurs, “Of course.”

Chapter Twenty Five

I don’t get out of bed to do more than shower or pee until Sunday. Mateo makes me eat breakfast, even though it makes me feel ill, and I would stay here in my dead little shell for much longer, only he doesn’t let me.

Draping a new garment bag across the foot of the bed, he says, “Time to get up.”

“Why?”

“It’s family dinner day. Mandatory.”