do anything in my power to make sure she was comfortable.
“You’ll take care of me?” Mae asked, chewing her bottom lip.
“Of course. Even if you aren’t pregnant, I will take care of you. Always.”
“Matteo,” she breathed.
“As much as I want to make you lose your breath even more,” I kissed her forehead. “We have to go.”
“Why?”
“We’re meeting my father.”
(Mae)
Nervous wouldn’t even begin to describe how I was feeling at the moment. My body vibrated with anxiety. My stomach twisted with unease. Meeting Matteo’s father for the first time threw me off. I couldn’t settle my mind, knowing what Matteo had grown up in. His father knew about Morgan from what I had heard but I wasn’t sure how much. From what I understood, Matteo had given up trying to convince his dad that Morgan was a monster. A man shouldn’t be able to submit to a woman. No son of mine falls into the pits of a woman’s wrath. Blah. Blah. Blah.
When Matteo had told me that, I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Shocked at the way a father could treat his son, I started crying. For him. For me. For our shitty childhoods. For the possible baby I was carrying.
“Don’t cry for me, pet,” Matteo had whispered across my lips. “I’m not worth it.”
But he was. And that only made me cry harder. He was worth every single tear my eyes had shed. “You are worth it.” But I could see the doubt. “Please believe me.”
He didn’t.
While we drove to the hotel Mr. Santos was staying at, the tension grew and grew between us.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen your father?” I asked Matteo.
“Not long enough,” he mumbled, gripping the steering wheel tight in his hands.
“Did he say why he wanted to meet up?” I placed a hand gently on his arm.
Matteo sighed, his body relaxing into my touch. The tightness in his jaw loosened. He grabbed my hand, kissing my knuckles. “He wants to meet you. We were going to have dinner but with everything that has happened today, I had to push this meeting back.”
“Why does he want to meet me?”
“He wants to know who I’m dating.”
“You don’t seem happy about that.”
“I’m not. My father is a private man but he likes to pry into my business. I’m almost forty years old but he still thinks he can demand to know every single fucking thing about me. I can’t help but feel like a little boy whenever I’m with him. No matter what I do, he doesn’t approve. He doesn’t show me any affection that a father should. He…” Matteo’s breath caught. “Fuck.”
“I’m so sorry, my love. I…” What could I say? I didn’t know how he felt. I didn’t know what do accept to be there for him.
“It is what it is.”
“Are you going to try talking to him? About Morgan?”
“I have no fucking choice. I can’t deal with her on my own. I’m not strong enough. And my father is going to give me shit for that.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes. I do,” Matteo snapped. “You don’t know my father. You don’t know what he does to men that submit. He doesn’t believe that women can be dominant. His whole fucking belief is disturbing and sometimes I wish I didn’t have his blood running through me.”
“You are not your father. You are Matteo Santos. You are strong. Just because you submitted to Morgan even though you were forced to, it doesn’t make you any less of a man.” I had a few choice words for his father. I didn’t care how powerful he was.
“I appreciate what you’re saying but it won’t make a different.” Matteo pulled into the parking lot of the tall hotel before turning to me.
“And why not? Be you. Don’t be what everyone else wants. You are Dr. Matteo Santos. A sadistic passionate lover. You are powerful. In everything you do,” I reminded him, needing him to see reason.
“A sadistic passionate lover, huh?” he repeated, waggling his eyebrows.
“Seriously?” I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you took from all of that?”
Matteo shrugged. “I’m trying to lighten the mood, Marketa.”
“I know.” I opened the passenger door. “Let’s get this done and over with so I can spend the rest of the night relieving you of your stress.”
“Close the door,” he said, a sly grin spreading on his face.
His demand sent a tingle of desire through my body. “We have to go meet your father.”
“Close. The. Door.”
I swallowed hard, doing as I was told.