That’s a little insulting, and I can’t help my response being a little short. “Well, I do. I’ve never given Vince a reason not to trust me. He shouldn’t let Mateo get to him like that. He makes it so easy. All the man has to do is smile at me, and Vince goes cold.”
Still not taking my side, Cherie shakes her head. “You don’t know Mateo, Mia. Vince does. I understand that you think it’s annoying, but you’re not the one he doesn’t trust.”
“Sure seems that way. It takes two to tango, Cherie.”
Looking at me more seriously than I expect, she responds, “No, it doesn’t.”
I don’t understand that logic and I feel a little hollow inside in regards to this conversation—it’s pointless and insulting. Serving the man dinner—and not even because I want to—is not a legitimate reason for anyone to think Mateo is… what, interested in me? Or that I would even be open to his attentions, if he offered them. Sure, from a physical standpoint he’s an attractive man, and his unchecked power is… interesting. But he’s far too old for me, and Vince’s cousin. And also? I have Vince.
Since Cherie isn’t the ally I expected, I drop it and start dishing out three plates of food. “Does Mateo have any main dish special requests?” I ask, a touch sarcastically.
“Just make sure he has parmesan,” she says, her back to me.
Chapter Nineteen
Vince is peeling off his dress shirt from dinner when I come in.
My first instinct is to duck back out of the bedroom to give him privacy, but I guess that’s dumb. We’re having sex, we’re living in the same space—we’re past that.
I subtly clear my throat anyway, just so he knows I’m here.
He glances back over his shoulder just long enough to acknowledge me, then goes to his closet and moves a few hangers before settling on a T-shirt.
“We should watch a movie,” I tell him. “I’m too stuffed for popcorn, but I think a movie night could be just what the doctor ordered.”
His stony silence stretches on, indicating he isn’t going to answer me.
I slip my shoes off, using my foot to scoot them over beside the bedside table. “Or we could do something else, if you want.”
“You can do whatever you want,” he finally says, brushing invisible lint off his sleeve. “I’m going to Joey’s.”
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I consider for a moment before I say, “You know I didn’t do anything wrong, right? He told Cherie he wanted me to bring him his food. It’s not like I could say no to him.”
Spinning on his heel to point at me, he says, “Exactly.”
Shrugging helplessly, I say, “That’s what you’re mad about? That I had no choice so I did this stupid little thing that doesn’t matter to anyone? It’s crazy. This is an insane thing to care about.”
My logic does nothing to calm him. “It’s not about the dinner. You’re not that naïve, Mia, come on.”
Scowling, I push up off the bed and walk around the bed so I’m closer to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not here all the time,” he says, eyebrows rising. “How do I know what’s going on when I’m not here?”
My mouth opens and closes four different times, but I’m fucking flabbergasted, and nothing will come out.
Finally I throw my hands up in the air. “You’re being crazy!”
“I’m being realistic,” he mutters. “He’ll come between us, just watch.”
“That’s so stupid,” I state. “And even if he wanted to, which, I want to reiterate, is insane, he can’t come between us if we don’t let him. Period. It’s impossible. He’s not God, he can’t make us stop caring about each other.”
With a bitter, knowing nod, he says, “No?”
I take a breath, telling myself to simmer down. Yes, Vince is being unreasonable, but escalating the situation won’t make it any better. After a moment, I manage calmly, “There is nothing going on when you’re not here. It’s insulting that you would even wonder.”
“Then why are you giving him his dinner?”
Throwing my arms in the air again, I walk past him to the dresser. Grabbing a hair clip, I yank the fancy pins out and toss my hair up instead. “Okay. We’re back to this. Your cousin is not interested in me, Vince. And I’m damn sure not interested in him.”
“You see the way he looks at you,” Vince counters.
“Like he wants to piss you off? Yeah, I see those looks. I think he likes to piss everyone off.”
“Adrian asked me about it,” Vince states, like he’s caught me.
I consider the moment earlier when I was in my bikini and Mateo was looking me over in front of him. I wouldn’t have thought that was worth reporting back to Vince—any man would’ve looked, it didn’t mean anything. Maybe I like Adrian a little less.