I also don’t think it’s good for Vince to spend more time with the son he’ll never be allowed to know. Dom is cute as hell, and the more time he spends with him, the more he’ll have to miss.
I’m trying to remind him we can have our own someday, but I don’t want to remind him so well that he starts bugging me to procreate now. When we have a baby together, I want it to be because we’re ready to start a family of our own, not because I need to replace the one he doesn’t get to raise.
It’s a process. I have my hands full inside the safety of the bedroom, so I prefer to spend as little time as possible outside.
The maid comes to the door come evening. I’m planning on skipping the family dinner. It’s Friday and from what I’ve gathered, only Sunday dinner is absolutely mandatory. Once they’ve cleared out and gone to bed, we can sneak downstairs and have some food.
It’s ridiculous, but I’m taking this hiding away strategy very seriously.
“Hey, Maria,” Vince says, pushing up off the bed to go greet the maid.
Apparently it’s not a social visit. She doesn’t attempt to catch up and ask how he’s doing. She merely clasps her hands together and tells Vince, “Mateo wants to know if you’re coming to dinner tonight. Some of the guests have arrived early so we need an accurate head count to make seating arrangements.”
I’m already shaking my head no when Vince looks back at me.
Vince looks back at Maria. “I think we’re gonna sit this one out.”
Maria looks past Vince at me. Somehow her gaze is disapproving, but I don’t know why. Now she looks back at Vince and tells him, “Mateo advises against it.”
“He advises against it?” Vince repeats.
“Some of the guests are expecting Miss Price to be there.”
I scowl. “What?” Now I’m up, pushing off the bed. “Me? I don’t know anyone in his family.”
Oh no, except Sal. Did he invite Sal to dinner tonight? Well, that’s even more incentive not to go. I’d really prefer the majority of Vince’s relatives not know that tidbit about my past.
Maria steps past Vince, reaching into her apron and handing me an envelope. I frown, confused, but she doesn’t explain. I slide my finger under the seal and open it up, drawing out what appears to be a business card. Instead of business information, however, the cream-colored card has a handwritten message:
I can’t stop the grin that steals across my face. It’s totally inappropriate—and horrible, since Vince is watching—but damn, at least Vince’s super villain has a sense of humor.
Also, he’s blatantly telling me he was listening to us last night. I issued a challenge, and now he’s answering it. If Mateo is inviting me to the table, he thinks he has a winning hand.
I don’t see what could have on me, though. Sure, he has one of my secrets left, but he’s not going to tell it. Vince already knows I was an escort, but he doesn’t know Mateo sent me to him in the first place. He doesn’t want Vince to know, and while Mateo might be cocky, I can’t imagine he’s petty enough to out a secret he wants to keep just to spite me. Confident, successful people know when to let it go. They don’t obsess over the opinions of others. Avenging every perceived slight takes a lot of time and wasted effort. Lame, insecure people do things like that, and whatever Mateo is, he’s not lame, and he’s damn sure not insecure.
He’s not inviting me to the table because I insulted him and got under skin. He thinks he’s a cat and I’m a mouse, and he wants to bat at me, to give me a little peek behind the curtain, seeing as I understand his game.
I can feel myself being amused and impressed by him. Even worse, I’m intensely curious. I know he’s a bastard, I know my relationship depends heavily on my not liking him, but damn, he’s interesting. If not for him blackmailing me and emotionally tormenting my boyfriend, I would totally kick back and have a drink with Mateo so I could pick the hell out of his brain.
Vince is watching. Vince is unimpressed. Vince walks over and rips the card out of my hand to read it, scowling.
“What the fuck?”
I shake my head, resting a reassuring hand on Vince’s shoulder. “It’s fine.” My curiosity is sufficiently piqued, though, so I tell Maria, “All right, we’ll come to dinner.”
“We will?” Vince questions. “But we agreed—”
“I know, but we’ll stick together. We’ll be okay.”
“Carly… This is what he wants.”
I know he’s right, but now I need to know why. If we stay locked away in this room, I’m going to wonder what trick he had up his sleeve, what we missed. I’m confident enough in my own steadfastness. Mateo interests me on an academic level, but he doesn’t mean anything to me. He can’t get to me the same way he gets to Vince, because I’m not led around by my emotions. People who are controlled by their emotions are very easy to control.