I hug him, but not as tight as I thought I would. Struggling to wrap my head around our different interpretations of the same scene, I say, “Maybe we should ask for clarification. I think maybe he didn’t mean it the way you think he did.”
“I know Mateo, Mia,” he tells me evenly. “That was a performance. There was no chance he’d let us off the hook and let you go; he just chose a different method of punishment for both of us and wrapped it up in a nice package. He doesn’t want you to live, but you don’t pose an immediate threat, so he made keeping you alive my responsibility. He’s punishing me, and he’s using you to do it.”
“I know I’m usually the one overthinking things, but… I think it’s you this time. You’re 18, why would he want to saddle you with me already?”
“Because I tried to keep a goddamn secret from him.”
Adrian’s back a second later, fiddling with my phone. He brings it over to me, and as it transfers into my hand, he looks at Vince. “Sorry, man.”
Vince shrugs one shoulder. “Could’ve gone worse, I guess.”
Frowning, I say, “It’s good news.”
Adrian spares me a sympathetic glance before walking out of the study, just as Mateo’s coming back in. My relief is starting to fade. Vince could be paranoid, but it seems like Adrian doesn’t view this as a victory either.
Mateo comes closer to us, his eyes moving over my body. Without meeting my gaze, he says, “Call your mother. Tell her you’re staying the night at a friend’s house. I’m going to call someone to take you to Francesca’s room; you should be about the same size, so you can borrow something of hers to wear for dinner.”
“I’m staying for dinner?” I ask, pleasantly surprised.
“You’ll stay the night. I have a lot of arrangements to make. I prefer to keep you under my roof while I get it all sorted. You can stay with Vince, or I can put you in a guarded room. Extra precaution, you understand. You’re free to roam the house, as long as you have an escort.”
I blink, trying to keep pace with what the hell he’s talking about. “A guarded…?”
“She’ll stay with me,” Vince states.
“Perfect. Cherie brought your backpack in, so if you have any homework to attend to, it’s in the foyer.”
Frowning in confusion, I say, “Cherie’s here?”
“Of course. Someone will show you around.”
The way he’s delivering all this information like I’m supposed to understand it, I feel a little stupid that I don’t. “Um, what if my mom doesn’t want me to stay over at a friend’s house tonight?”
Shrugging like he’s never been asked a dumber question in his life, Mateo says, “Handle it.”
That doesn’t answer my question, exactly, but I nod anyway. “Okay.”
Flashing me a smile, Mateo holds my gaze. “Welcome to my home, Mia.”
His words are friendly, but I pick up a weird vibe. Doing my best to ignore it, I muster a smile in return. “Thank you, Mr. Morelli.”
Chapter Fourteen
Cherie escorts me to Francesca’s room. She asks Vince what happened, and since I don’t feel like listening to his grim retelling of events, I go out to retrieve my backpack.
My mom didn’t answer her phone, but I left a message that I was over at Lena’s and she wanted me to spend the night, so she’d give me a ride to school in the morning.
Sitting in the floor of Vince’s palatial home, I think about how having dinner with his family was something I desperately wanted a few days earlier. But in my daydreams of that event, Vince was happy I was there. Right now, I don’t think he’s happy I’m here at all.
Burden.
The word rises unbidden to my mind, but I push it away. I’m not a burden. Vince likes me. He wanted to be able to date me, he just didn’t want… well, this.
Everyone is just worked up right now. It’s been a crazy hour, but today will pass, the dust will settle, and everything will be okay.
Confident, I rise, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I hesitate outside the door of the study, seeing Cherie comforting Vince with a sympathetic expression and a reassuring shoulder squeeze.
I need to figure out what her deal is. I decide to ask, once I’m alone with her.
Eventually, I’m spotted hovering outside, so Cherie flashes Vince one last smile and comes out to see me.
“I guess I’m supposed to help you find something to wear for dinner.”
“I guess so,” I say, looking down at my T-shirt and jeans. “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“No, of course not. It’s just, the Morellis don’t wear jeans to dinner.”
I frown, but she’s already walking, so I follow along.
“I can show you Vince’s room, too, if you want to drop off your bag. Vince said you’re going to be staying with him.”