Chapter Thirty
Something was off, and she couldn’t put it into words.
But it was the same feeling she had in the car, at his house, and now again.
She needed to get away from him, now. Her instincts had been warning her, and now she had an outside source steering her away as well.
But Jade? How did Jade know him other than from the art world?
Ophelia hadn’t even had a chance to tell her that Bathroom Guy and Mateo were one and the same.
Jade should be back from her work trip, so Ophelia would call her first thing tomorrow. She was absolutely getting to the bottom of this.
Mateo led Ophelia to a tub under a smaller oak tree that was more secluded than the others.
He tossed a couple of the bohemian-patterned pillows out of the tub to make room.
Ophelia stared at the discarded pillows sitting on the grass.
She was trapped in her thoughts, trying to figure out how to get out of the situation.
Mateo stepped into the tub and sat down. It became immediately clear to Ophelia that there was only room for one. She needed to leave. It all felt so wrong all of a sudden. She rattled her brain for an excuse.
“You’re going to have to sit between my legs,” Mateo said, patting the bottom of the bathtub between his legs.
She took a step back and opened her mouth to tell him that she needed to leave. But Mateo stood in the bathtub and leaned over, placing both of his hands on her hips. She could feel the warmth of him through the thin material of her dress.
“O-phe-li-a,” he whispered in her ear. “Get in the tub, wild one.”
Ophelia inhaled from the shock of his touch, her nostrils flooded with his nauseating scent again.
With disbelief and horror, her body began to move against her will.
Ophelia allowed Mateo to sit down fully first, and then she squeezed in between his legs.
It took a while for her to get comfortable with the limited space.
No space, really, and no air. None but the heady oxygen around him, and with every inhale, she absorbed that sickly sweet scent into her lungs.
It was so wrong. Leave. Her body would not respond. Who is he? Who could he possibly be? Why did Etienne warn me? Why do I feel so stuck right now?
Ophelia’s mind was reeling as her body yielded to his touch.
The moon was full, and a couple of stars shone through the clouds and city lights, the light iridescent.
He’s wrong. Something is wrong with him, she tried to tell her body.
Don’t lose yourself, Ophelia. Don’t. But she was falling deeper and deeper with each breath.
Mateo was stroking her arm slowly, and she felt her body sinking into his touch.
Her thoughts were screaming to stop giving in to him.
She didn’t want this. She didn’t want him.
Yet her body wasn’t hers. It was his. He was controlling it.
He gathered her long, golden-brown tresses into his other hand and pulled her head back toward him.
“My wild one,” he whispered intently. “Who was that guy who looked like he wanted to take you from me?”
The sting from the pull on her hair felt good yet dangerous. She tried to open her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t. Her grip on reality was slipping.
Mateo laughed bitterly. “Oh, Ophelia, we’re all simple men, and we almost always want the same thing.
He won’t take you from me. You’re mine.” His hand moved from caressing her arm to squeezing her waist, and pure lust shot through Ophelia’s veins.
Her eyes felt heavy, and she closed them, her body giving into the soothing feeling of being held and touched.
“Look at me,” rumbled Mateo, his hand still fisting around her hair, tilting her face to his. At his command, her eyes fluttered open.
“I like your beauty mark right here,” he said, running the top of his lip over it.
Ophelia gasped. Another surge of his smell hit her.
Heady. Her body was languid and submissive, her mind numb.
Please stop, her thoughts whispered. He went in again, this time fully pressing his lips to hers and parting them with his tongue.
She heard herself groan, and Mateo pulled back, releasing her lips. She was disgusted with herself.
He tugged her hair tighter and stretched out her neck, her face tipped up to the night sky. Swirls of lights danced in her vision as he sucked on the sensitive flesh of her neck. She twisted from the delightful feeling and shifted her ass, seeking out his erection.
“Do you know how long I've waited? It makes me think that you're going to be the best I've ever had. I had to work extra hard for you. You're my wild card, Ophelia." Mateo groaned in her ear. “It’s why I call you 'wild one.'”
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she was still pleading with her body to stop, but it was gone, lost to his touch.
She could feel his hardness through his gold pants.
Mateo ran his fingers up her arms and traced them down the neckline of her dress.
Her nipples pebbled, and Mateo nibbled at her ear as he whispered, “I want you to come for me.”
Ophelia’s legs fell open as wide as they could in the narrow tub. Mateo tracked the curve of her legs through the light green fabric of her dress.
“Lift your dress.”
Mindlessly, she obeyed and pulled the sheer fabric up around her waist, revealing the bottom half of her bodysuit.
Mateo pressed his erection into her back.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He reached down and unsnapped the crotch of the leotard, exposing her bare pussy.
“No panties, wild one? Is this raw cunt just for me?”
Eyes glazed over with arousal, Mateo teased the sensitive flesh around her clit before he pressed his index and middle fingers into her slit.
“Mmmm, I’m going to devour you,” he growled and nipped at her ear.
Devour? The word managed to break through the heavy haze of lust, reminding her of something. Suddenly, the dream she’d had of him surged through the fog. He had said those exact words in her dream. He had also said that on the night Jolie caught them and made fun of him for it.
Reality crashed upon her as she realized Mateo was touching her. That he had her spread open. No. Stop. She begged her body to listen, to break whatever spell he had on her.
Spell.
The idea was like a burst of welcoming light.
He has magic.
He must. What kind? She didn’t know, and she worried she didn’t have time to figure it out. She needed to break the spell.
“That’s it, wild one,” he whispered as he circled his finger around her clit. Her legs tightened from pleasure, and her hips rocked.
No, no, no. My tiger. Where is my tiger? Isn’t it supposed to protect me? Her body wasn’t listening to her. Instead, to Ophelia’s horror, it began to quiver.
Focus. You can get out of this. Think of your tiger. Focus on it.
Just as her body was about to come for him, her tiger’s roar broke through her thoughts, and the invisible rope that tied her body down was suddenly cut. She immediately grabbed Mateo’s hand and stopped him.
“Stop,” she said firmly. “I...” she stammered, coming out of her fog. Speak, damnit. “I have to go.”
“Let’s go back to my place,” he said, sprinkling kisses down her neck. She lifted her shoulder in disgust, effectively moving him away. Ophelia clambered out of the tub and quickly snapped her bodysuit back together.
She wanted to claw his eyes out. She didn’t know what game he was playing, but he had done something to her. The menacing look on his face told her to tread lightly, so she played the game, acting like nothing was wrong in order not to further enrage a man before she got to safety.
“Thanks for the invite.” She plastered on a grateful smile. “But I really should head home. I have an early morning.”
“Oh, you sure?” he said, eyeing her with suspicion.
“Yep, big day,” she said curtly.
“Okay, let me walk you back to your car.”
“No, no, you stay and enjoy yourself. It’s a great party.” Ophelia started to back away from him. She breathed deeply. Fresh air.
“I’m not letting you walk back by yourself,” he said sternly. “We can leave now.” He placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her to the backyard gate. She briskly stepped out of his touch.
“No, I’m fine. Really,” she pleaded, stepping farther from him.
“Ophelia, I am not letting you walk back to your car alone in the middle of the night.” He was stern. There was no arguing, and Ophelia knew he was right. It was dangerous for a woman to walk alone at night in New Orleans, but he was the danger. “Come on,” he commanded.
Ophelia relented. Don’t let him get near you, she told herself. Kick him if you have to. Do not let him get near you again. Whatever he is doing, it’s through that scent.
As they walked back in the direction of her car, Mateo seemed to sense the change in her. The conversation from him was tense. Almost desperate. As they reached her car, he stopped and reached for her hand. Ophelia quickly pulled her arm away and hugged herself, feigning cold.
“Ophelia, I’m genuinely interested in you. I want you to know that, and I’d like to see you again,” he said at the same time she said, “All right, well, I need to go. Bye!” and rushed to her car door.
“Wait.”
She paused with her back to him, hand on the car door handle. “I made a sculpture of you,” Mateo said casually. “I want to show you. It’s not at my apartment, but at my studio. I hope to finish it in the next couple of days. It’ll be my newest piece and will be shown at the Archer this Thursday.”
Ophelia turned slowly back to face him. Mateo held his smile, but beneath it was something sinister. Anger and fear bubbled up inside her. “You what?” she asked indignantly.
“You’re a muse, Ophelia. How could I resist? Look at you.” His smile curled further, and he shrugged as if he were embarrassed. What a fucking act.
“You made a sculpture of me? We’ve known each other for three weeks.”
“I know. You’ve taken much longer than my other sculptures. You can see it tomorrow if you want, before I show it.”
Horror washed over her. She was a sculpture of his. All of his sculptures were of women… nude.
“Did you fucking sculpt me nude, Mateo?” Fury coated her voice.
Mateo started to turn to his apartment and gave Ophelia the smuggest grin. “You’ll have to come see for yourself. Text me, and I’ll send you the details. Night, wild one.”
Rage. Boiling rage.
Ophelia got into her car and slammed her door.
Her heart was racing. He made a sculpture of her.
How? He’s only seen me three times in person.
And nude? He’s seen me topless… And now tonight.
Oh my God. So he’s seen most of me. This has to be illegal.
There have to be laws against this. Ophelia’s heart was racing faster, and her breath was shallow.
She inhaled for four and exhaled for four, over and over again.
Ophelia needed to call Jade. Jade knew something.
Etienne knew something. What did everyone know about Mateo?
He had some type of magic. She doubted they would know about that, but maybe there was something else.
Maybe he’d done this to women before—sculpted them without consent.
And Jade would definitely know about that.
She pulled her phone from her purse, and the screen flashed with an unread message.
Etienne: Did you talk to Jade? You need to talk to her. Do not trust that guy. Please.
It was way too late to call Jade, but she needed to talk to her first thing in the morning. Ophelia fired off a text to her.
Ophelia: Hey, boo, sorry to text so late. I am fine, but we have to talk as soon as you wake up. It’s about Mateo Ortega. Call me.
Ophelia flipped back to her text chat with Etienne.
Ophelia: Hey, I just messaged Jade. She probably won’t see it until the AM. Can you tell me what’s going on?
Etienne: She didn't tell me much, just that she has reason to believe he's dangerous.
Ophelia: Okay, thanks for looking out.
Etienne: NP. Are you home yet?
Ophelia: About to drive back.
Etienne: Stay safe.
Ophelia turned the car on and put it into drive. She drove in a haze back to her home. When she opened her bedroom door, she fell into bed with relief and slept anxiously with her phone set to loud, waiting for Jade to call her.