Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

My arms are still around him, and he looks down at me with that look of appraisal in his eyes, reading me. “Because I love you, and I needed you to come back to me. I suppose we should have discussed this, given the risks of my position. For future reference, if you ever find yourself in a situation like that again, I want you to do whatever you have to do to get out of it safely. Ensuring your own safety isn’t cheating. Use whatever you have to use, manipulate whomever you have to manipulate, just make it out safely and come back home.”

I sigh, leaning against him. “You’re so… I don’t even know the word for you.”

Smirking lightly, he says, “To be honest, I’m sort of relieved. I’ve always believed you had good survival instincts, but this has made me feel a lot better about a concern I’ve had that I couldn’t test, since I promised not to do anything so awful to you again.”

My curiosity is piqued. “What concern is that?”

His eyes roam my face, like he’s taking in every curve, every plane. “I’ve worried about what might happen to you if something ever happened to me. You’re soft, and I keep you soft because it’s what I need from you, but soft can be a disadvantage in this world. I’ve made you pretty dependent upon me because it’s what I like, it’s what I wanted from you, and it suits us both. But I wasn’t sure how you’d do on your own. It’s reassuring to me that thrown into a new environment with no one in your corner, you managed to attract the strongest chance of survival and bring him onto your side. Your survival instincts kick in the same way mine would, the same way Meg’s do, they’re just different. Meg would plot. I would manipulate. You attract. You ooze this softness, this need to be saved. You lure people in with the illusion of harmlessness, but you are not harmless.”

Rolling my eyes with a grin, I say, “You make me sound so deceptive.”

“You’re not, though, that’s what makes it interesting. You don’t use people on purpose; your instincts and emotions just work together to give you the best odds of survival. I love it. Before I met you, I never would’ve believed someone could be so innocently crafty, but you are. I admire that.”

“Well, I think you’re giving me more credit than I deserve. It wasn’t a well thought out, well-executed plan. Shit just sort of happened. I appreciate that you think I’m some sweet siren hell-bent on survival, but no. I was just really drunk and sad, and someone who reminded me of you showed up. It was dumb luck. If you want to call it that, because I did not feel lucky.”

Now he frowns. “Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No, Rafe didn’t hurt me. I just… I felt so horrible.” I’m not looking at him, because how can I? “I feel weird talking to you about this.”

Mateo shakes his head. “Don’t keep secrets from me, Mia. I want to know what happened.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you.”

Smiling faintly, he caresses my face. “I’m made of pretty stern stuff. Don’t worry about me.”

“Rafe didn’t want me to tell you,” I add.

“I don’t care what he wants,” he says, simply. “He brought you to me, that’s where his usefulness ends. Now I want to know what happened.”

“We didn’t have sex.”

His eyebrows rise at this, like he’s surprised. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” I insist, meeting his gaze. “It didn’t go that far. I don’t even fully understand how it happened, he’s just really commanding, and when he tells me to do something, I just sort of do it. That’s why I said he reminded me of you.”

Mateo nods, not looking the least bit surprised by this.

“And I did want to get him on my side, but that wasn’t why I…” I trail off, swallowing. I decide to just get it out there, since he’s already said it’s okay, and he assumed worse anyway. “He only touched me. We didn’t have sex, he just cornered me when I was drunk and sad and scared I’d never get back home, and he had said maybe he would consider helping me so I was trying to stay on his good side, but I didn’t think of it that way. I wasn’t trying to use my body to make him help me.”

Smiling slightly, Mateo suggests, “Maybe you didn’t think you were.”

“Maybe you’re just so used to your organized, purposeful view of the world, you don’t realize I’m just a mess.”

This makes him laugh. “You are not a mess,” he says affectionately, tugging me against him. “I see things in you that you can’t see in yourself. I’ve watched you respond to me and everything I’ve put you through a million different ways. I don’t know why you are the way you are, but I do know how you operate, whether you believe me or not.”