Rafe notices and tells me firmly, “Relax.” Tossing a look toward the door, he tells Dante, “Hurry up. Where’s Meg? I don’t trust her out of our sights.”
What? They took Meg, too? Why would they do that?
“I’ll get her,” Alec says, pivoting and heading for the hall.
Somehow what I expect to see next is Meg trussed up, hands tied, maybe gagged Maybe she’ll come in accompanied by some other muscle. Taking her hostage doesn’t make any sense to me, unless it’s because she’s Roman’s mom, but considering Mateo’s current feelings for her, I don’t understand why they’re bringing her into this at all.
Only, when she comes in the door, there’s no one managing her. There are no ropes or gags, nothing to indicate they’ve hurt or threatened her.
The realization that dawns on me must be written all over my face. Rafe leans down, running the back of his hand along my jawline. “Come on, you didn’t think you could trust her, did you? After what she did?”
I hear his words, but they don’t make it through the fog. My eyes are locked on Meg as she surveys the scene she’s walking into. First her gaze hits Dante and Alec, restraining Mateo. I can’t see the look on his face, but I assume murderous doesn’t begin to cover it. She flinches and looks away, her gaze automatically drawn to the bed. She sees Rafe first, since he’s on top of me. Then her gaze drops to me. She meets my gaze and I wait for something, anything, to disprove Rafe’s words.
I don’t get it.
She swallows, looking faintly guilty, but then she averts her gaze.
I’m alone here.
Help isn’t coming.
They were just talking about Meg being out of sight, so she was clearly out in the hall. If she didn’t want to be there, she could have gone for help. She knows where the emergency phones are hidden. She could have called Adrian.
Just like she could have told him Vince was waiting for me at the fucking bakery.
The weight of my disappointment is nearly unbearable. Not just in her, but in all of this. I trusted these people—not Dante, but Rafe, Alec, Meg—and it’s going to cost me everything I love.
I was wrong. People aren’t mostly good. People are mostly selfish, and I just don’t think like they do, so I always expect more. Generally it works out, but not this time.
Everyone I love is completely fucked, and it’s all my fault.
Suddenly I’m acutely aware of Rafe’s caress along my jawline. Rafe still has tenderness for me. I force my gaze away from the train wreck, away from Meg, away from Mateo, and look up at Rafe. I don’t have to force the tears that well up in my eyes, or the need on my face. I do need comforting. I do need protecting. I don’t want it from him, especially not right now, but he’s the only hope I have. Dante’s too mean, Alec’s a follower, Meg’s only loyal to herself—Rafe, though… I’ve appealed to him for help before. He may have expected a small fee, but he helped me. Mateo told me I did the right thing, that he wouldn’t have wanted me to do anything differently in that situation.
I reach for Rafe, my fingers finding purchase on his sides. It’s all the encouragement he requires; he leans down until he’s on top of me more intimately now, chest to chest, face close, like a lover. I run an appreciative hand along his muscular back and draw his body close.
“What do you want?” I ask, quietly.
He gazes down at me, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Hm?”
“Your wish list. The whole thing. Why are you doing this? Power?”
“Of course,” he says, almost lazily as he runs a thumb across my cheek. “Everyone wants power, little one.”
“You don’t have power in Vegas?”
“I do. I can have more here.”
I find myself nodding. That’s what I figured. I arch up so I can whisper in his ear. “Kill Dante. Take his spot. Pretend you were just going along with this to see how far he would take it. Mateo doesn’t trust Dante; he’ll be able to believe that.”
When I pull back, I’m disheartened to see him smiling. Not the kind of smile that can mean anything good for me—the kind that says my attempt is absolutely adorable.
I’ll show him fucking adorable.
I reach a hand down between our bodies and find his cock. His amusement evaporates as I catch him in my palm, rubbing him through the fabric. “Please, Rafe. I need you. I need you to stop this. I need you to save Mateo.”
Eyes closed, he murmurs, “Not sure this is the best way to convince me I should keep your husband alive.”
It’s the only way I have. I arch against his chest, rubbing my breasts against his chest. “You wanted to fuck me in Vegas, didn’t you? What if you could?”