Page 55 of Matteo

“I can’t do it.” I call my mom Friday after Amy asked multiple anxious questions about the woman during lunch. “Tell Melissa it isn’t happening.”

Her sigh is heavy. “Matthew, you must stick with the plan.”

“Fuck the plan?—”

“Language, Matthew.” Mom is stern. “Explain why you think it’s a good idea to deviate from the plan.”

Rolling my eyes, “I’m not okay with upsetting Amy. This date thing is upsetting her. She’s miserable.”

Another sigh. “Which is the entire point. Amy is understandably wary of becoming involved with anyone. It does not matter how many times you reassure her that she is acceptable as a potential partner. Her low self-esteem will not allow her to believe it until she sees we will take her as she is. Once she accepts it, she will also accept her own feelings for you.”

I’m shaking my head. “I can’t hurt her like this.”

“Matthew, it is a shot. It stings, but the end is worth it.” My mother throws back a saying I’ve used too damn often.

I want to argue. Only she’s already hung up.

Fuck.

Melissa Hodge is a woman from old money. At thirty-two, she has heard her biological clock is ticking from her mother, father, big sister, younger sister, and even her family’s cook.

The issue is she’s a lesbian and doesn’t want kids. She isn’t going to come out to her parents because it would ruin their image. My mother found her escorts to work events to keep her family’s hopes up and give her breathing room. Since I felt for the woman, and she understood it would only be a one-time thing, I agreed to escort her.

I was told it was for a company event. Too late, I realize I was lied to. It’s something on the old money social calendar, which means cameras. She plays coy when the people behind the cameras ask questions. I play bored.

Exactly one hour after we walk through the door, we walk out. I’m pissed. I would never have done it if I knew there would be cameras. Melissa isn’t happy. I don’t give a fuck.

I drop a sullen Melissa at her home without escorting her to the door of her condo—something I’ve never done before.

I’m in a shit mood when I get home. Without thinking, I slam the door closed. I think we’re both surprised to see each other. Amy is on the couch with a carton of ice cream, eating out of it with a spoon.

“Are you all right?” Amy asks with a frown across her brow. I hate the sight of it. Her lines are too damn deep there.

Sighing, I nod. I know it’s not wise, except I need to be near her. I sit down heavily on the couch beside her. There’s only maybe three or four inches between us. A small part of me exhales with relief when she covers those inches with concern as she presses against me. At that moment, all the frustration I’m feeling vanishes.

“My mother is a master manipulator. She said it was a work event. It wasn’t. It was an old-money social calendar thing. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have agreed to it.” I shake my head.

“Did you run into your mother there? How did she think you wouldn’t be mad?” Amy is as surprised as I was.

“No, we only stayed for an hour. My mom hasn’t been doing many old-money social things lately. The damage is done. Us together at an event like that meant serious. It’s either a ring to follow or cohabitating. Since she’s from an old family, it would have to be a ring. Since no ring will follow, I’ll be labeled the asshole.” As angry as I am, I don’t feel comfortable telling Amy that Melissa is a lesbian. It’s not my secret to tell.

“That’s insane. I can’t believe your mom did that to you. You weren’t kidding when you said she’s relentless.” She takes a spoonful of ice cream. “I think I’m back to being afraid of her.”

I nod. “She has her moments. I told you. Every brunch, or time I spend longer than twenty minutes with her, it’s the same thing. Can I have some of that?” I nod at the ice cream.

“Sure,” she hands me the carton and the spoon.

My cock goes hard at the idea of sharing a spoon with her.

“So your mom wants you with anyone—she doesn’t care who it is? She would really be okay if it were me. If I agreed to…”

I go still. I don’t dare let her see what the prospect of her playing a part that I want her to be for real and the rest of our lives does to me. “Despite her money, my mother isn’t a snob. She cares more about a person’s character than where they came from or the amount of money in their bank account. As I told you before, she was extremely hopeful you were my girlfriend. The only concern she expressed was how quickly our relationship moved.”

She’s pensive. I offer her the ice cream back. She takes it and the spoon. Spooning out another bite, she sucks on the spoon before giving it back to me. Sighing, she nods. “Okay, I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend.”

My cock jerks. I scoop a spoonful of ice cream and feed it to her. She blinks and accepts the ice cream. “Thank you. I understand it’s not something you want to do. I appreciate it. I’ll do my best to limit the time playing the role in front of my family. Nothing happens you feel uncomfortable with.”

She sags into me with relief. “You make me feel safe. I never doubted it for a minute. It wasn’t because of you…”

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