Prison Break by Jade Onyx Page B

her chest, in her heart. God, she needed air. She needed room.
She needed space.
    “Natalia, will you bed with me tonight?”
Mateo asked.
    The question. Again.
    Her jaw froze mid-chew. She swallowed her
mouthful of stew. “Why does everything have to sound like a
transaction to you? I don't feel like it.”
    “This is the best time,” he said. “Our
doctors confirmed we are both fertile. If we don't have a child
soon, people will question our marriage. Some already think you're
a gold digger.”
    “Just because Papá raised me on a single
income as a cab driver does not mean I'm a gold digger. He taught
me enough to make money of my own.” She glared at him. “Your father
came from humble beginnings, too, and worked his way up the
political ladder. You're living off his legacy right now. And
thanks to the Taxi Drivers Union strikes, we're here today.”
    Mateo sighed. “I just want to protect you,
stop the rumors before they start. That's all.”
    “Another transaction,” she grumbled. “So you
want it because you want a baby? And you want a baby just so you
can protect me?” she scoffed. She felt warm, but it was not
from the food. She shook her head. “I'm sorry, Mateo, but I just
don't feel like bedding tonight.”
    He set down his silverware and brushed back
his thick black hair. “Maybe you can tell me then.” Leaning
forward, he asked, “Are you...are you lesbiana ?”
    “No! That's ridiculous!” Natalia fumed. A
wave of heat rushed up her spine, prickled through her dark brown
hair and flooded her cheeks. Fire shot from her dark brown eyes.
“After two years of marriage, you question me?!” She had lost her
appetite.
    Mateo's dark brows furrowed. “You just don't
seem to enjoy it, like it's an obligation. A duty you have to
perform for me, only because you are my wife.”
    She looked away. She didn't want to hurt him
by telling the truth—that he never got her to come. God, Mateo made
a great husband, just not a great lover. At all. She wished she had
both in one man.
    “I'm just not into it,” she mumbled.
    “Then teach me.” Desperation—or was it
determination?—seeped into his voice. “Show me how to get you into
it.”
    She squirmed. He just wasn't good in bed, not
like her last lover—the one who still haunted her dreams. Mateo was
handsome enough, like her last lover. Although not a good lover,
Mateo was a good man and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. “I
can't. I don't know how. I just—”
    Ding-dong.
    Mateo stood up. “I'll get it.”
    Natalia struggled to eat some more, but found
her attention on the door. Who could it be, visiting this late in
the evening? They had not expected any guests.
    Mateo came back, jaw set, and gave her a
quick kiss on the cheek. “It's the PFA. They want to ask me some
questions at the police station. I've called my lawyer. I may not
be home tonight.”
    Something in his voice alarmed Natalia. Why
would the PFA want to take him in for questioning at this time of
night? “What do they want to ask you?”
    “Something about work.” Politics.
    “You're not coming back, are you?” she
asked.
    “It may be several days.” Another guarded
answer.
    “Did someone set you up?” Mateo was a
gentleman, an up-and-coming politician. The big wigs probably had
it in for him as the fall guy, especially since Mateo was partial
to the workers who voted him in and did not concede to big
money.
    She knew she shouldn't have listened to Papá.
She shouldn't have married Mateo. Politics was a work hazard—not
only for the people in it, but for their families as well. Even
with the Juntas out of power for so long, corruption was still
rampant in Argentina. What was true one day was not true the
next.
    If there was one thing she loved about Mateo,
it was his honest work ethic. Maybe he was too honest, too civil.
Although he was not great in bed, he was a really kind person, the
kind of friend she wanted by her side—especially when facing a life
of