XVI

I stand at the bottom of the steps to the house for a good ten minutes contemplating what was probably the weirdest and most intimate interaction I've had yet with Mateo.

What is this between us? There's no denying there's a physical attraction on both ends. Even if I wasn't sure about it before, that interaction just confirmed it.

But, could it be or become anything more than just an attraction? I mean, would that even be right?

When I eventually work up the nerve to go inside, I find three out of the four brothers, Lucía, and Parker in the massive living room gathered around the coffee table playing some kind of card game.

"¡Mira quién es!" Lucía says, glancing up from the cards in her hands at me.

I give her a quick smile and greet everyone else as I take a seat on the arm of the sofa beside Tito.

"How was your day at the village, hm?"

I lift a shoulder. "It was cool."

She eyes me as she nods her head, not particularly content with my answer but letting it slide anyway.

"It's peculiar that Mateo decided to make today's delivery with us, no?" Alejandro comments, tossing a Jack onto the table.

I catch Tito and Diego smirking at each other and Lucía tries to cover her giggle with a cough.

I frown, my gaze bouncing between them. "What's that mean? Does he not usually make deliveries?"

"Nope. It's almost always either Diego and Alejandro or Tito and I," Lucía elaborates.

That explains why everyone crowded around him like he was a celebrity. They probably hardly ever see him.

"Yeah, he'll go down and visit every few weeks to check on things, but we make those deliveries weekly, and I can't remember the last time he came with us," Alejandro continues.

Huh, peculiar indeed.

"Anyway, wanna join?" Tito asks, gesturing to the cards on the table.

I shake my head. "Nah, I'll just watch."

I'm engaged in their game for about five minutes before my mind begins to drift to thoughts of Mateo.

Does he really think I'm just a kid? Nineteen isn't even that young. In fact, come next month, I'll be twenty. He acts like I'm twelve or something! I roll my eyes internally, but my face must give a hint of what I'm thinking away because Tito nudges my thigh with his elbow and quietly asks if I'm all right.

"I'm fine, I just... it's nothing," I assure him. I make a show of fake yawning and stretching before I announce, "it's getting kind of late, and I've had a long day. I think I'm gonna hit the hay."

"It's 6:45," Alejandro states, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Uh... yeah, like I said, I'm just really tired," I repeat, getting up. I don't miss the odd looks they all give each other before I exit the room.

When I get to my room, I do my nightly routine and hop in the bed, but try as I might, I can't fall asleep. One, because I lied when I said I was tired, and, two, because I can't get Mateo off my mind.

I lay there for another two hours before I make up my mind.

I have to confront Mateo about what he said.

The problem with that, however, is going to be finding him in this ginormous house. I consider asking Lucía or one of the brothers where he's at, but I'd really rather them not know I'm looking for him.

I decide to try my luck and go to his office. Sliding on some slippers, I peek my head out my door to make sure the coast is clear before I begin my trek across the house. I hope to Goddess that I don't come across any of the brothers or Lucía. It's only a few minutes past nine, so I doubt they're all in their rooms for the night.

When I reach Mateo's office after successfully avoiding being spotted, I knock lightly on the door twice.

No answer.

I knock again and get the same result.

Peering around to make sure no one sees, I twist the handle and crack the door open. The light is on, but I don't hear any signs that anyone's in the room, so with one last look down the hall, I slip into the room and close the door behind me.

I couldn't tell you why I entered. Mateo's obviously not here.

I lift my head and take a deep breath in to see if I can pick up his scent and see how long it's been since he was here, but like any other time I attempt, I can't smell anything. I'll have to ask him about that, because it's getting to be annoying now.

I scan the room and am reminded of the way I felt stepping foot in here what was only days but feels like months ago. I was terrified of Mateo and what his plans were for me. Now look at me. I'm willingly searching him out because something he said bothered me.

I'm assuming, because the light was left on, he's planning on returning, so I decide to wait for him, and, instead of sitting in the chair like I should, my gaze drifts over to the bookshelves lining the walls.

I approach the left bookshelf and my eyes roam over the titles. One appears to be sticking a little out of place, so I grab it. Turning it over in my hands, I recognize it immediately.

It's Mateo's ancestor's diary.

I examine the worn leather binding and take a quick look back at the door. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I looked through it. After all, he already read a passage from it to me.

I open the book, being very careful not to damage it any further, and am instantly disappointed to see that it's written in Spanish.

Wow, Savannah, the diary belonging to the ancestor of a man with the last name ESTRELLA, who just so happens to be the Alpha of a HISPANIC pack, is written in Spanish. Who would've thought?

Mateo must've been translating when he read it aloud to me the other day.

I flip through the yellow, delicate pages hoping to find even a single sentence in English, but I'm having no such luck. As I near the end of the journal, I skim over one last page, and read two words that make my blood run cold:

Saint Ives.

What the actual fu—?

"¿Qué estás haciendo?" My heart drops to my stomach, and I whip around—keeping the diary hidden behind my back—to see a woman standing in the doorway.

She's absolutely stunning with tan skin and long, wavy brown hair that cascades over her shoulders and all the way down to her waistline. Her light brown eyes are narrowed, and they bore into me, looking me up and down scrutinizingly. She's only wearing a tank top—with one of the straps hanging off her shoulder—and a pair of small cotton shorts that hug her slender waist and thick thighs.

She raises a perfectly manicured brow and says, "te he hecho una pregunta. ¿Qué estás haciendo?"

What's that saying? Curiosity killed the cat? Well, the cat's a wolf in this situation, and that wolf is me.

"I'm sorry, no hablo español," I tell her what Lucía told me to say if someone speaks to me in Spanish.

At my words, her eyes widen, but then almost instantly, a patronizing smirk forms on her face. "Ohh, you're her. The runaway or whatever."

I give her a weak smile. "That would be me."

She laughs, crossing her arms over her chest as she steps into the room and walks around me. Turning my body, I keep our gazes locked and the book hidden behind me. Her gaze travels up and down my body, never straying, like she's sizing me up.

It's weird, and it's making me uncomfortable.

"What were you doing in here?" She inquires, the suspiciousness in her tone apparent.

I hold my head high, refusing to cower under her searing stare. "I was looking for Mateo."

She laughs again, mockingly. "Oh, I'm afraid he's a bit preoccupied at the moment." She finally takes her eyes off of me and moves behind Mateo's desk, opening one of the top drawers. I use the opportunity to tuck the book under my shirt and into the waistband of my jeans.

"Ah, good, he still has some left," she comments as she pulls something out of the drawer, making a point to hold it so I can see exactly what it is.

A condom.

"We ran out," she explains, like I had even asked. She closes the drawer and snakes past me to the door.

"I don't think he'd like you being in here without him," she informs me, leaning against the door and holding it open. She jerks her head towards the hallway. "You better get going."

I keep quiet and slip past her, out of the office. I only make it a few feet down the hall before she calls, "don't worry, you can find him tomorrow when we're all done." With a wink she slides from in front of the door and saunters away in the opposite direction, swaying her hips as she goes.

At this point, I'm fuming so much I'm surprised I'm not whistling like a tea kettle.

I should've known.

Mateo may appear interested in me, but there's no way he actually wants me. He's probably just turned on by the "forbiddenness" of his attraction towards me.

I scoff, laughing at myself for thinking it could be anything more and for thinking he'd actually act on whatever this thing is between us.

Goddess, I'm such a fool.