Surviving Mateo (Morelli Family 2)

When I go to clean up his plate, he catches my hips and brings me into his lap. I don’t struggle, but I’m clearly uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“This isn’t super comfortable,” I say, managing a slight smile.

Cocking his head, he continues to study me. “I’ve got a little time this morning. Meet me in my room.”

“I have things to do,” I say, attempting lightness.

He doesn’t buy it. “Yes,” he agrees, anchoring me in his lap with a hand. “Me.”

“Mateo.” I try to play him off, but he pulls me in for a kiss—a test, not an expression of affection. When I turn my face, he gets his answer.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, his tone much less civil.

“I just have stuff—”

“Say stuff to do again,” he interrupts, a threat clear, though what that threat is… not so much.

I avoid his gaze. “Well, I do.”

“Fine, you’re fired. Now, get your ass to my bedroom.”

Choking on a laugh of absurdity, I tell him, “You’re firing me from an unpaid position?”

“I’ll hire you back later.”

I shake my head. “Please let me up.”

“I hate repeating myself, Meg, so I’m going to ask you one last time: what is wrong with you?”

I stare at him, at the eyes I enjoy looking into when he fucks me, at the mouth that cherishes my neck and drives me crazy. Softening just enough for him to see it, I tell him, “I need to talk to Mia.”

Sighing heavily, he says, “This again? You’ll see Mia Sunday.”

“I can’t wait until Sunday; I want to talk to her now. If you leave my sight for even a minute, I’ll never believe her. I’m not trying to threaten you or withhold, I’m not trying to be stubborn, I’m just being honest. I need to talk to her and make sure that things I’ve heard aren’t true. I really don’t want them to be true, but if you won’t let me ask her myself, how will I ever get rid of that doubt? How will I ever trust what she says? Everyone’s afraid of you—I don’t get the impression she’s an exception to that rule, and if I know you’ve had a chance to get to her… I can never know the truth.”

He remains calm, but I can see in his eyes how aggravated he is. “Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Because I can’t. Because I’m not that woman.”

“The kind that can want a bad man? I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, sweetheart; I’m not a good man.”

“I understand that. I accept that.”

“Then why is this where you draw the line?” he asks.

“I think you know why,” I tell him, unable to meet his gaze. “I can’t forgive you for what you do to someone else. Someone… I like. Not this.”

Adrian quietly gets up and abandons his dishes. “This is the kind of thing I will not miss,” he informs Mateo before dipping out of the room.

“Let’s just call her right now,” I say.

“And ask her if I raped her.”

I go cold, because I never said that. His mind shouldn’t have gone straight to that. I only said hurt—never rape.

I shrug, looking at my lap. “I have to know.”

“So ask me,” he says, clearly irritated.

“You wouldn’t tell me if you did,” I point out, rolling my eyes.

“She could lie, too.”

I reach for his hand and tug it off me so I can get off him, but he won’t let me up. “Okay. This isn’t helping,” I tell him.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he says, his grip on me tightening. “I didn’t hurt her, Meg. I just don’t want you to call Mia with this.”

“Then I can’t trust you,” I state. “I can’t… let anything grow here. If you can’t provide me with peace of mind, I can’t provide with you anything else.”

I try to get up again, and he yanks me right back. “That’s not our agreement,” he reminds me.

“Then maybe you can take it from me, too,” I snap.

His face turns to stone. My stomach drops. I don’t have a firm enough hold on him to be making demands, and I know that, but I also know my own limitations. If he likes how things have been going between us, if he likes me, he has to be willing to give me this reassurance. If he’s not, it’s because he’s guilty.

Despite the chill in his eyes, despite the frankly frigid expression on his handsome face, Mateo reaches into his jacket pocket and extracts his phone. My eyes widen, not quite expecting him to acquiesce. He looks away from me only long enough to find a name in his contact list, then he hits a button and hands me the phone.

Hit with a sudden wave of nerves, I grip the phone, dreading each ring.

“Hello,” she answers.

I grimace, because he put the phone on speaker and it’s really loud. I start to turn it off, but he catches my finger, shaking his head silently.