Submitting in Vegas: (Vegas Morellis, #3)

by Sam Mariano

“She is hurt, but she still loves you. I bet you anything that woman loves you so much, you could ask her forgiveness before pulling the trigger, and she’d give it to you. Virginia has a good heart, and it belongs to you. She is not a rat. She is not a traitor. She has what it takes to love you, and she does not deserve to die because you’re afraid of what she might do with information she cannot help storing in her mind. There’s always another way, Rafe, it’s just less convenient. Isn’t she worth a little inconvenience? She thinks you are. Her life is in your hands. Be merciful with the woman you love. You don’t have to be merciful with the rest of the world, but for her… Find another way.”

  35

  Virginia

  The door opens and Rafe stumbles into his bedroom. The stumbling alarms me. Rafe is a graceful man, not prone to stumbling, but he definitely misses a step on his way in.

  “You can go,” he tells Adrian. His words run together, like it’s too much effort to keep them apart.

  He is drunk. His shirt is halfway buttoned, but now he carelessly yanks it open, probably popping a button or two, then shoving it down his shoulders. I swallow and scoot back on the bed as his eyes narrow on me. He’s aggressive tonight. Of course he’s aggressive. I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I wait for him to turn off the light for bed, or yank me off the bed and drag me out of here to kill me. Would he change his shirt to kill me? Maybe.

  He probably won’t do it himself, though. Too personal. Maybe he’ll send me for a ride with Sin, and I won’t come back.

  His tone cool, he asks, “Should I fuck you one last time, Virginia?”

  My heart stutters, but I keep my face calm. “If you do, I’d wear a condom and put me in the shower afterward. Don’t want to leave your DNA on my body.”

  His lips curve up faintly. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” He points at me, nodding as he uses his other hand to unbuckle his belt. “That’s good advice, though. You’re probably right. We should skip the last fuck. Safer that way.”

  Since he’s openly referring to my death as an impending thing, I make a request. “I know you’re mad at me, so it might be fun to torment me with uncertainty, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d just like to know what’s coming. Will you kill me tonight, or wait until tomorrow? Will you do it yourself, or will Sin do it?”

  Nodding slowly as he kicks off his pants, Rafe says, “I’d probably want to know, too. Of course, I’d want to know so I had time to get out of it. In case that’s your motivation—”

  “It’s not,” I assure him.

  He continues as if I didn’t speak, “In case that’s your motivation, I figured why beat around the bush, right? We all know what happens next. Why delay the inevitable?”

  That’s not at all what I wanted to hear. My heart seems to be lodged in my throat. Such a thick obstruction. I can’t seem to swallow it down, but I nod. At least he answered my question, I guess. “Will you make it look like an accident? Can I… can I call my mom first?” I ask, tears burning behind my eyes.

  “No. Too risky. Even if you didn’t try to alert her that something is wrong, she’d hear it in your tone.” He glances back at me as he approaches his dresser. “I’ll let you write her something, though. Do you send cards?”

  I try again to swallow, nodding my head. “For holidays.”

  “You can fill out a mother’s day card. I’ll make sure it’s found in your apartment and it gets back to her.”

  Oh, God.

  He speaks so calmly about my death. Not just my death on its own, but the world as it will exist without me. The idea of a world without him makes me ill, but clearly the same isn’t true for him. The realization makes me want to vomit. He won’t even miss me, will he? I thought I meant something to him, but I don’t.

  Suddenly, something inside me snaps. As recently as a moment ago, I still wanted to be around him, but now I don’t even want to be in the same room with him. I don’t want to spend my last hours with him. If he’s going to kill me, I just want him to get it over with.

  “Will you kill me, or will Sin do it?” I ask again.

  “I will,” he tells me. Smiling faintly, but without real humor, he adds, “Sin took care of Cassandra. Seems like it’s my turn.”

  “I am not a Cassandra. Tell yourself that if you need to, but it’s bullshit, and you know it.” He looks back at me again, and this time I hold his gaze. “If you’re going to kill me tonight, why don’t you go ahead and get it over with?”

  Lifting a golden brow, he asks, “Eager to die?”

  “No. Eager for you to stop hurting me. It seems like that’s the only way out.”

  His face falls briefly, but he catches it and clears it, resorting to a poker face. Regardless of the impact my words may have had, he lifts his gun and runs his hand along the barrel. “Those aren’t very friendly last words, Virginia.”

  “Sometimes the truth isn’t friendly,” I inform him.

  Nodding his head, he lifts the gun and turns, pointing to a spot in front of him on the floor. “Come over here.”

  I slide off the bed and begin to walk, but he holds up a hand to stop me. “Crawl,” he says. “Rats crawl.”

  I lift my chin and glare at him. “I am not a rat, and I can’t crawl with bound hands.”

  “Fine. Kneel, and I’ll come to you.”

  Helpless anger roils in my gut at the massive injustice that this is happening. I’ve never found much to exalt about death. I don’t find the end romantic, and I don’t think the way you go much matters. I’ve always assumed when I died, I would feel dread. I wouldn’t be ready to go. There would still be so much I wanted to do, and I would give anything to have a little more time.

  I never thought the man I loved would be the one running out my clock.

  I guess I shouldn’t have loved a gangster.

  If reincarnation is a thing, maybe I can instill a hatred for them in my soul so this never happens again.

  I don’t want to feel like this, so I clear my thoughts, shake my head, and kneel here like a good little sacrificial lamb. I don’t care about dying well. I didn’t even live well; why should my death be any different?

  I close my eyes, because I don’t want to watch. I feel him approach. For the next however many seconds I have left, I don’t want any new memories. I just want to soak in the good ones.

  Rafe doesn’t speak, so it’s easy to get lost. It’s easy to find peace. I search for a favorite memory, the one I want to relive if it’s the last moment I’ll ever have. I expect it to be one of the times we were together, but the one that floats to the surface is us in my apartment after the Sugar Factory, our foreheads pressed together, the promise of a kiss in the air.

  That’s us. That’s our relationship. A really heartfelt promise that just couldn’t be kept.

  I smile, even though he can’t see what I’m seeing, and echo back words he said to me back when this first started. “I should’ve kissed you.”

  “What?” he asks.

  I shake my head, eyes still closed. “Nothing. I’m ready.”

  The cool barrel of his gun comes to rest against my forehead. I feel strangely calm, considering this cool metal will be responsible for clearing my mind of every last memory and leaving me in a lifeless heap on Rafe’s bedroom floor.

  “Any last words for me, Virginia?”

  “Yes,” I say, opening my eyes to look up at him. “I hope someday you will find someone else who loves you enough to bring you feel-better cheesecake after you shatter her heart. And I hope you’ll be able to trust her.”

  I don’t want to see anything more, and to be honest, I don’t want to make him look into my eyes as they turn lifeless, so I squeeze them shut to spare us both that unpleasantness.

  Too many seconds pass, but I still don’t open my eyes. This shouldn’t take so long.

  Finally, I hear his rough voice. “Get up.”

  I open my eyes and look up at him. “What?”

  He pulls his gun away from my for
ehead and drops it to his side. “Get up off the ground.”

  Watching him warily, I do.

  Rafe nods at the bed. “Sit down.”

  Still unsure, I ease back and perch on the edge of his bed.

  Appearing legitimately distressed, he rakes a hand through his hair, still with his gun at his side. He paces back and forth a few times, takes a few breaths. He’s struggling. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to kill me.

  I’m too afraid to hope that means he won’t. I just got into a serene headspace, and I don’t want to go through all that again.

  Finally, Rafe walks over to his dresser and puts the gun down. When he turns around, he tells me, “Get in bed.”

  “What are we…? What’s happening, Rafe?”

  “I’m tired. It’s been a long fucking day. Get over on your side of the bed.”

  I don’t know what to say. What to ask. On one hand, if he’s having second thoughts, I would like to help him sort through those so we can land on a sensible end that includes me not dying. On the other hand, if he’s having second thoughts and my trying to reinforce them would backfire, I want to keep my mouth shut.

  I scoot back on the bed, and Rafe walks over, hits the light, and approaches his side of the bed in the darkness. “Can you tell me what happened just now?” I ask him.

  “I just changed my mind,” he says simply.

  Hope leaps in my gut. “You’re not going to kill me?”

  “No.”

  “Then what…?”

  He pulls back the blankets, climbs under them, and says simply, “I’m going to marry you.”

  36

  Virginia

  My eyes are so irregularly wide for so long, they go dry. “What?”

  His tone is harsh. “This isn’t some fairytale ending, don’t go getting that in your head. This is the only workable alternative I can think of. When we’re married, you’ll belong to me. I’ll be able to keep an eye on you to protect my men. To protect myself, there’s spousal privilege. Even if they ever do get you on a witness stand, they can’t make you talk about me if we’re married. And the wife of a mob boss damn sure isn’t going to join the FBI.” He glances at me, yanks the blankets up around him, and says, “There you go. I made your choice for you. You’re on my side—whether you want to be or not.”

  He’s still angry. He’s telling me we’re getting married, but he’s still distrustful. This isn’t what I want. I never imagined there would be a day Rafe Morelli would offer me marriage, and I wouldn’t want it.

  Then again, he didn’t offer me marriage—he ordered it, like a punishment.

  I don’t even want to think about how he’ll treat me. How he can hurt me if we’re married. I know he wasn’t good to Laurel when he felt ensnared by her, and he didn’t even dislike her. He wasn’t angry at her. He just felt trapped and inherently needed to push her away.

  With me, it could be so much worse. Trapped with a woman he knows loves him, he’ll know just how to hurt me if he wants to.

  I can’t believe I’m shaking my head no, but I am.

  “Why are you doing that?” he demands.

  “I don’t want—” I clear my throat. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no.”

  He stares at me like I’ve just grown a second head. “No?”

  “No.”

  My words appear to be beyond his comprehension. “What the fuck do you mean, no?”

  “You don’t want this. You’re backed into a corner. You’ll treat me horribly. My love for you won’t survive it. You’ll make me hate you on purpose, and after you’ve proven your point that all women forever will fail you, we’ll be stuck with each other. I can’t… No. I’d rather die than live that way.”

  Rolling his eyes, he says, “Don’t be so fucking dramatic.”

  “I won’t marry you, Rafe. Not like this.”

  “We’ll see,” he says, apparently unconcerned by my refusal. “Good night, Virginia.”

  Apparently, Rafe does not require my consent to marry me, because the following morning, Juanita makes me breakfast and inquires as to what kind of flowers I’d like for my bouquet.

  “My bouquet?” I question, pausing in reaching for a strip of bacon.

  She nods cheerfully. “For the wedding.”

  I don’t know what Rafe has told this poor woman, but her good cheer leads me to believe it was bullshit.

  My next hint is when Rex takes a break from guarding me to help Shane bring the entire contents of my apartment and deliver it to Rafe’s foyer. Rex knows enough to remain quiet, but Rafe’s cousin, Shane, flashes me a smile that tells me he’s completely in the dark. He thinks I’m one of them now so he’s congenial, unaware that just last night his boss nearly executed me for my ability to tear them all down.

  “Hey, congrats on taming the beast,” Shane tells me. “None of us ever thought it would happen.”

  Rex offers a faint smile, but he’s aware that I didn’t tame the beast, so he does not offer me congratulations. I have no idea how to respond. It makes sense that Rafe wouldn’t want his men to know I’m a “risk” and he’s letting me live anyway, so I go along with the charade. I offer Shane a smile like a normal bride before sending him on his way.

  As wedding days go, mine is a joke from start to finish. The whole day passes as if in a fog. Rafe doesn’t so much as text me to let me know what’s going on, he communicates through Rex, furthering my fears that he’s going to emotionally destroy me.

  This is so much worse than loving Rafe from afar.

  I don’t unpack my things because I don’t know where to put any of it. Everything was thrown into boxes haphazardly, so I spend most of the day reorganizing them so that when I do have a room to put it all in, I’ll know where to find everything.

  Rex lets me know when it’s time for me to get ready. The only semi-appropriate things I have are the things Rafe has bought me, so I dig out the case containing the pearl bracelet he got me for Christmas, and the dress and heels he bought me when we went to the night club.

  I’m surprised that Laurel hasn’t so much as sent me a text message, particularly when I slide into Rex’s car and he tells me Laurel and Sin will be there with the babies, and Laurel doesn’t know anything.

  I’m too disheartened to expend much effort questioning it, though.

  Rex takes me to the strip. We drive past the club where this all started and ultimately arrive at Rafe’s casino. I don’t know if we’re meeting him here or this is where I’m getting married, and I don’t bother asking. Even though I knew Rafe owned the casino, I’ve never been to it. I always imagined coming here with him for the first time, not with Rex.

  From looking online (not for this, just in general) I do know Rafe’s casino is set up for weddings, and I’ve seen the photographs of fancy events that took place here, but the space is way too big for what this is. It’s not a quickie Vegas wedding space, it’s for the kind of wedding that costs as much as a house.

  We don’t enter on the casino floor. Rex clearly knows his way around more than I do, because we come in a side entrance into a calmer room with marble floors and columns. There are separate rooms back here, but I don’t know what any of them are. Perhaps space for private games? There’s a sitting area with lots of natural light, and the centerpiece of the room is an indoor waterfall that spills down into a long, rectangular pool of gleaming water. Rafe, Sin, and Laurel are all gathered in front of it, and while I assume normally this room would be populated with other people, today it’s only us. Laurel is holding Nicky, while Skylar is in Sin’s arms wearing a fluffy dress, pointing at the waterfall.

  Rex clears his throat and glances over at me. “Do you, uh, want to do the whole walking you down the aisle thing?”

  “God, no.”

  He looks relieved. I think I would cry if a guy not even legally allowed to drink walked me down the “aisle” in jeans and a leather jacket toward the gangster I’m being forced to marry.

  For a moment,
the absurdity that is my life catches up to me and a burst of laughter shoves out the doom and gloom. Rex glances over at me uncertainly. “What’s funny?”

  “Everything. I could put him in prison, so I lose my freedom. Is that not funny? I think it’s funny. Criminals, man. I picked the wrong side.”

  Rex’s eyes widen slightly, but I sigh and walk ahead of him. He’s done his job, and I’ve been death marched to my shotgun wedding, so we might as well do this.

  Unsurprisingly, the asshole I have to marry looks gorgeous. A stylish navy suit hugs his muscular frame in all the right places. The way he’s standing, his broad shoulders look even more massive, even more powerful. When I get closer, I see his suit even has pin stripes. Perfect.

  As I come to a stop in front of him, Rafe cocks an eyebrow at me. “Black? Really?”

  I glance down at the unsuitable wedding dress. “I wasn’t making a dramatic statement. It’s the only dress I own.”

  “Would you like to go buy a white one first?”

  “No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The radiant smile that was on Laurel’s face as she stood by Sin talking to Skylar about the pretty waterfall melts right off when she overhears me. Now frowning, she leaves Sin’s side and comes over to me. With her left arm she’s holding Nicky on her shoulder, but with her right hand she holds out a bouquet of blue hydrangeas and baby’s breath.

  “I have your bouquet. You went with a black dress, huh? It’s pretty,” she offers. Indicating a pink striped bag on the floor at Sin’s feet, she adds, “We got you a wedding present, but it was really last minute notice, so I didn’t have time to wrap it.”

  Sliding his arms around my waist and tugging me close, Rafe assures her, “I’ll unwrap it later. Thank you.”

  Her smile comes back briefly, but she looks at me again and it slips. “Is everything okay? I thought you’d be, like… out of your mind with excitement.”

  I don’t have the energy for this. I try a little harder to look like I’m not at my own funeral, bringing my free hand up to rest on Rafe’s shoulder. “Just bummed my mom couldn’t make it.”