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“What is this?” Pink and gold glitter is on her hands. Why the hell is she asking me? How would I know what it is? “It’s on you.”She brushes her hand on my shoulders, coming back with a little more but not much. “Oh.” It’s as though some sort of switch flips in her head.
She suddenly shoves my chest, and I only step back because of the expression on her face. “The hell?”
“You’re such a jerk!” I can’t deny that one. “You were with another girl, then you come here and do”—she waves her hands widely between us—“whatever this is with me.” There’s not only anger in her voice but hurt in her eyes. I have no idea what the fuck she is talking about.
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m not stupid.” She narrows her eyes on me. “I know you think I am.” She shoots her shot, referencing something I said to her when I was pissed, and she hits her fucking mark. “But I grew up around men like you my entire life. I know what goes on behind closed doors,” she continues.
“Mona.” That one moment of anger I had is now biting me in the ass. “Calm down.” How worked up she is this time is different from any other.
“Did you just tell me to calm down?” I might not be so good at this—whatever the fuck the two of us are. “You just stay away from me.” She hops off the counter and tries to avoid me.
“That’s not happening.” I spin her back around and cage her in.
“Okay, then. Where were you before you came back here?” I notice she doesn’t call it home. I don’t fucking know because I’m losing my goddamn mind. “That’s what I thought.”
“A strip club.” I realize how it sounded as soon as the words left my mouth.
“Right.” I close my eyes and take a breath. “Move.”
“You’re driving me insane.”
“Move.”
“No.”
Her lips part, and a pleading expression crosses her face. “Please.” I step back. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I think I might make this worse if I don’t give her some space.
“Mona.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her head drops as she brushes past me. I watch her go, knowing one thing for certain. She matters more than anything and anyone else ever has.
8
MONA
It’s been almost three days since I saw Matteo. There have been no middle-of-the night visits. Why does that only make me more angry? It’s stupid. I hate him; he's rude and bossy. Still, it’s been messing with my head. I think I miss the man I met that first night. It’s as if there are two different men inside of him.
I know this world. I understand the roles that all the men play in it. I witnessed my own father bringing women home under my mother's roof. I think I was holding on to some form of hope that I could salvage something with Matteo. Even when he’s angry, I can still see that he wants me.
He doesn’twantto want me. That’s the issue. He hates who I am, and I can’t change that. I was born into the O’Haire family. His own men can’t be bothered to speak to me. I might get a yes or no from Sal, but that’s about it. It could never really work between us. Any fantasy I’ve derived in my head is just that: a fantasy.
My hand goes to my stomach. How will he feel when he finds out he got an O’Haire pregnant? It will only be a matter of time untilhe notices. You can’t very well hide a baby bump, but I have time to come up with a plan. Hopefully, it’s better than the one my sister and I drew up about the loss of my virginity.
“Mona.” Emma knocks on the door.
“Come in.”
“Are you coming out of your room today?” What’s the point? It’s funny actually; I wanted out of here so badly but come to find out, it’s safer in here. It’s less awkward than being openly ignored.
“Not really my room.” I wonder what would happen if I switched rooms.
“You need to eat.”
“That is your all-time favorite thing to say.”
“You’ll go crazy in this room.” Emma tries another angle. I think I might already be there. "Is there anything I can get for you?"