“Nonsense.” Mateo reaches around me, his scent enveloping me as he cuts the prime rib, dips it into the potatoes and gravy, and brings it to my mouth.
My mother’s eyes narrow as she watches me.
“I’m not hungry.” I turn my head away.
“You are.” Mateo moves his other hand to my thighs again. He presses his mouth against my ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps along my skin. “Eat, princess. If you don’t, I’m going to finger-fuck you and make you come while Mommy and Daddy watch. I’ll enjoy it, too. So very much.”
Oh, god. No. Absolutely no. I turn back to the loaded fork and open my mouth.
Mateo laughs low in his throat as I take what he’s offering.
My mother scowls and picks at her salad. The food is amazing. The prime rib is tender and the potatoes—I don’t think I’ve ever had potatoes this delicious in my life. Needless to say, potatoes weren’t common in the Fontana home, not when all I needed was ‘a handful of almonds’ according to my mother.
Mateo loads up his fork again and brings it to my mouth.
I eat.
“Though we’ve settled the bride price, we still need to talk about the … issues from the wedding.” My father takes a big drink of his wine. “Sarita Manchello has already taken her case to several of the families, and she wants to set a meeting as soon as possible—could be as soon as next month—to discuss what occurred yesterday.”
“She wants to discuss my happy marriage?” Mateo forks some carrots and brings them to my mouth.
Happy? If I could laugh, I would. But I’m at that point of emotional exhaustion that if I laughed, it would most certainly turn into an uncontrollable crying fit.
“Open,” Mateo growls.
I do, and he slides the fork inside, leaving the carrots between my teeth. I chew, the sweet glaze popping on my tongue. I never knew a carrot could taste so good.
Vincenzo shakes his head, a half-smile on his lips. “I think he’s talking about the bloodbath you caused at the cathedral, Mateo, or perhaps that’s just a wild guess on my part.”
“Let them set the meeting.” Mateo shrugs. “I’m happy to discuss whatever Sarita desires. However, I also demand Horatio’s books. As you know, our laws say that I take his cut. He has no other heirs, and neither does Sarita. Their line has ended; therefore, their holdings are now mine.”
“She’ll never agree to that.” My mother gives up pretending to eat her salad and places her fork beside her plate.
“I don’t need her to agree to anything.” Mateo brings the wine glass to my lips. “Perhaps you’ve noticed, Carmen, but I can be very persuasive.”
I drink. Mateo keeps tilting the glass. So I drink more until I reach for his wrist to push it away. He relents finally, but I’ve swallowed more than half the glass, and I’m a lightweight at best.
“Are you full, my princess?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer quickly and truthfully. For the first time since I got here, my stomach feels settled.
He moves his hands to my ass and eases me from his lap. I stand and sidestep, getting as much distance from him as I can.
But he stands, too, his hand resting on my hip. “Thank you for dining with us, Carmen and Leonard. Now you can scurry back to the other families and tell them I treat my wife as I should. She’s alive and perfectly fine.” He pins my mother with a glare. “Not a mark on her, as you can see. At least, not one that came from me.”
Does he sound … angry? I must be mishearing. There’s no way he cares about my mother hitting me.
“I beg your pardon?” My mother’s haughty tone is back as she gets to her feet, my father following her.
“I hate to repeat myself, Carmen.” Mateo gestures toward the door. “You’re dismissed. And if I hear the slightest whisper that you’ve been talking or plotting with Sarita, I can assure you that what happened in the cathedral was only an appetizer for what I’ll do to you.”
“Now, Mateo, you can’t—”
“You have your money.” Mateo’s cold voice is like a cutting winter wind. “Now go.”
It’s the oddest sensation, and it seems wrong to admit it, but—I feel almost giddy. No one has ever spoken to my parents like this. No one would dare. My family was once the most feared of all. My grandfather had more blood on his hands than a surgeon, and he is still spoken of in fearful whispers. He wasn’t the only monster in my lineage, either. Plenty of Fontanas cemented our reputation in blood, decades of it, and the family only fell into trouble once my father became the head. Ferdinand was intent on getting our reputation back, on putting us back on top. But he never got the chance.