Mateo
By nightfall, everyone knew about her sharp tongue, her impossible standards, and her complete lack of fear in speaking her mind.
The men avoided her with exaggerated caution, muttering warnings to one another as if she were feral rather than furious.
A few looked intrigued until she snapped at them, loud and unapologetic, and they retreated like scolded dogs.
It helped that there were warm beds now. Crates of beer had been cracked open with celebratory ease. And there were willing women—women who knew these men, who belonged here, who were more than happy to redirect attention away from the volatile American scientist.
Gabriella was no longer the most interesting thing available.
Which was exactly the point.
Long tables had been dragged together beneath hanging lanterns.
Families filled the benches alongside armed men—laughter spilling freely, plates passed hand to hand.
It felt like a festival more than a criminal stopover.
A reminder of why Mateo struggled sometimes in his role.
These people weren’t monsters. Just survivors who’d been handed terrible options and made the best of them.
Gabriella sat across from him, her plate overflowing. She made no attempt to hide her pleasure as she ate, moaning softly at the flavors, eyes fluttering closed in exaggerated appreciation. It should’ve annoyed him.
Instead, it unraveled him.
She licked her spoon clean after finishing a sweet dish one of the elders had prepared—a syrupy dessert made in celebration of a son returning home. The pink flick of her tongue was slow, deliberate, utterly unaware of the damage it did.
Or maybe she knew the way it affected him.
Mateo tore his gaze away, jaw tight as he shifted, his pants now tight. You deserve this, he reminded himself. Every second of it.
A familiar presence pressed close to his side, reminding him he was not alone.
Sally’s fingers drifted, light and possessive, brushing the front of his pants as she leaned in. Her sundress hugged her body and pressed her breasts up for the male gaze. Her voice was low, purring in words, meant only for him.
“You look like you could use a recharge, Mateo,” she commented, her Spanish lyrical and delicate.
He stiffened—not from desire, but from habit. From years of playing a role he’d never been allowed to refuse.
Sally was José’s daughter. Years ago, early in his cover, he’d agreed to be her lover.
Influence mattered. Connections mattered more.
Sometimes the job required being what someone needed him to be.
With Sally’s quiet approval and her father’s blind eye, Mateo had clawed his way from expendable muscle to trusted leadership.
But affection had never followed. It had been fun in the earlier years for both Sally and him.
They both knew there was a powerplay that neither of them were in control of in relation to her father.
The last time he was with her, he had told her “no more” and excused himself to sleep amongst his men.
José, on the other hand, liked the arrangement.
Preferred it. From his place in the background, it made sense—cemented loyalty, reinforced control.
A future built on leverage and blood ties.
The frustrating part was that, despite being in charge of this group, it was José who spoke directly with Obscura.
He was the middleman for everything since he had been with the group the longest. Mateo had to relay his plans and wait for José to confirm if things were a go with headquarters.
And Mateo had almost accomplished their meeting to bring them down when everything went wrong.
Sally’s touch lingered, hands neatly manicured and polished pink, as she tried to stroke him through his pants. She must have visited town recently, and he made a note to ask her about it. He glanced down to see her smile, confident and entitled.
Across the table, Gabriella laughed at something one of the local women said, emerald eyes bright, posture relaxed in a way she hadn’t been since before the beach. She looked alive, much like she used to when they took their beach walks. A time he missed greatly.
It was then, Mateo realized with a sick twist in his gut, that the lie he’d been living might cost him something real.
“Sally,” he said slowly, gently pulling her hand away. “We shouldn’t.”
Her eyes flicked instantly to Gabriella, jealousy apparent in the way her body tensed and face flushed. “Is there a reason?” she asked, voice sharp beneath the sweetness. “I haven’t seen you in months.”
And it was the best time of my life, he thought—knowing full well he couldn’t say it.
She slid his plate aside and settled herself onto his lap, facing him like it was the most natural thing in the world. A few men made crude comments, but no one intervened. Sally was accustomed to getting her way. They both knew it.
“Come to my bed,” she murmured, arms sliding around his neck, pressing close, and he felt her nipples through her thin sun dress. “Let me help you relax.”
For once, he was grateful that Gabriella couldn’t pick up on the Spanish spoken between them. Even so, the logical tactical side of him reminded him he should have agreed. It would have been easy and expected to maintain his subterfuge. Afterall, she was the reason why José trusted him so early on.
But when he looked at her heart-shaped face, from her plump lips up to her dark eyes, it wasn’t hers he searched for. It was green.
I can handle Sally’s tantrums, he thought. “Maybe another time,” he said, pushing her gently away, and knowing the consequences would be dire. But that wasn’t his priority right now, even though deep down, he knew it should be.
She bristled immediately. “Why?” she snapped. “Is that woman the problem? She can watch.”
Venom laced every word, and the image of forcing Gabriella to watch him fuck Sally sent hot waves of possessive anger all throughout his body.
He felt a tick in his jaw as he stood, looming over her.
“You know that’s not why,” he said evenly.
“I’m tired.” That was his way of saying he couldn’t get it up.
Yet with the evidence of his cock straining between them, they both knew it was a lie. He adjusted himself discreetly and moved away from her.
He turned towards Gabriella, switching to English. “You. Let’s go.”
Gabriella startled, clearly still deeply immersed in conversation with the women around her who were practicing English with her. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Then move your ass,” he snapped, motioning towards the shared housing. He needed to keep his image up for being put out by her antics when all he wanted to do was hold her.
She stood instantly, shoulders squared, marching past the tables without looking back. “And if I don’t?”
Mateo gave her a smirk, “You get you-know-who to watch you.”
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes until they were slits of pure contempt. “Fine. But you’ll hear me complain all night about how shitty this whole experience has been.” A faint flush betrayed her, and he knew exactly what experience she was remembering.
“I can’t wait,” he said dryly. Mateo lifted his hands in surrender as he offered Sally a half-smile. “She’s trouble,” he said lightly to her in Spanish. “So, I’ll stick with her. Keep her in check and watch over her.”
It sounded like a joke, but it was a truth he hoped no one saw, otherwise he’d be dead.