“How?” I demand. “How am I supposed to sit there, knowing what’s going to happen to her, and enjoy my food?”
When he speaks again, I’m a little surprised by the firmness in his tone, the light intolerance. Adrian has chastised me on many occasions, but I’m too tired and emotionally raw for it this time. “The same way she sat across from you and ate breakfast before sending you off to be kidnapped by Vince,” he states, without sympathy. “That woman made her bed, the same way Beth made hers. I’m sorry it’s going to hurt you, but he isn’t doing the wrong thing here, Mia. Actions have to have consequences. Trying to hurt Mateo or the people he loves is not an offense that can go unpunished; people will stop fearing him, and we’ll all be left vulnerable.”
“Now you sound like Rafe,” I mutter.
Instead of being offended, he nods. “Huh. Two men who know the ropes in this life saying the exact same thing? Go figure. It’s almost like we know what we’re talking about.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I state.
“You don’t have to like it,” he agrees. “You just have to get through it. This is what you signed up for. This is what she signed up for. Everyone is getting what they ordered.” He glances at the nearly untouched oatmeal in the bowl and maintains the authoritative tone he knows I respond to. “Eat your damn oatmeal.”
I scowl at him, but I pick up the spoon anyway. “I don’t like when you order me around.”
“I don’t like to do it, but I’m pulling rank. You’re exhausted. You need to eat, take a shower, and get some rest. After I feed him, I’m taking him to Ju.”
“But—”
“No.” He shakes his head, letting me know I’m wasting my breath. “Take a few hours to recharge and take care of yourself. I’ve seen this before; I know the drill.”
“Can’t you at least take him to Meg?” I ask. “If you want to give me a break… if this is her last day, at least let her spend some of it with Roman.”
He sighs heavily. “I’ll ask Mateo.”
—
I stand inside my closet, looking at the rack of little black dresses. The simple task of picking out a dress feels like too much. I’ve been standing in here for fifteen minutes, moping around the closet, looking at shoes and clothes, running my fingers along handbags, wondering what the point is. I don’t even want to go to dinner; I just want to stay in the bedroom and cry.
I’m so angry at Meg for hurting me, and so angry at Mateo for punishing her for it.
Why can’t everyone just behave like civilized fucking human beings? I manage to pull it off, and I’ve traveled the expressway through Hell on more than one occasion.
Assholes. I’m surrounded by assholes.
As if sensing my discontent, my favorite asshole steps inside the walk-in closet and comes up behind me. One strong arm curls around my waist, the other slipping inside the soft white satin of my robe and caressing my breast. His lips graze my shoulder, heading for my neck.
“Good evening, wife.”
I melt back against him, sighing with distress. He’s so damn distressing. I’m torn between raging at him, pleading with him, and dropping to my knees and losing myself in his pleasure. His hand dips lower, tenderly caressing my slight baby bump. My tummy fills up with answering flutters and I reach back, pulling his neck closer. He dips his mouth to the curve of my neck and leaves a trail of hot kisses that effectively obliterate my thoughts.
I love when he does that.
He walks backward, hauling me with him, and drops into a chair. I turn to face him and he yanks me onto his lap. Before I have time to recover any lost thoughts, he has one hand in my hair, the other hungrily groping at my body as he kisses me. Ordinarily he wouldn’t skip past foreplay, but we’ve had less of each other lately than we’re used to. When he frees his cock and pushes that wonderful instrument of pleasure inside me, the only sighs I have left are sighs of pleasure.
Afterward, I curl up in his lap with my head on his shoulder and try to catch my breath. He lazily caresses my now bare back. For this last moment of peace, I enjoy our little bubble, isolated from the ugly reality of the world outside our bedroom. This is my favorite place. Sometimes I think I could be the happiest if I never left.
Not that he lets me leave all that often. I smile faintly, burrowing into his neck and kissing him the way he kisses me. It doesn’t drive him crazy the way it does me, but he murmurs his approval.