by Sam Mariano
“I mentioned my daughter, Isabella?” To illustrate, he has his phone at the ready, and a couple swipes later he’s showing off her picture like an adoring father.
“Oh, she’s just so darling,” my mom says, clutching her heart like she just may die from the cuteness.
“She is,” he says warmly.
I make a note that I’ve still never seen him with said daughter. I’m not convinced she even exists.
“My problem is, she needs a nanny. She has a nanny during the day, when everyone’s in school, but I need someone for the evenings. I need someone live-in. I want Mia.”
Understandably shocked, she says, “You want Mia… to be a live-in nanny?”
“Yes. I pay well, and since I’ll take care of her room and board, I’m sure Mia could send some of it home for you. You’re a single mom, I’m sure it would be nice to have the load lightened a bit.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he extracts a thick white envelope. He places it on the table and slides it across to my mom.
Her eyes widen and she cracks it open, inhaling and exhaling slowly when she sees it’s thick with cash.
“Think of it as a sign-on bonus,” Mateo tells her.
I’m glad my mom is distracted with the money, because I think that’s the only reason she hasn’t noticed my jaw hanging open. Not only has Mateo not asked me about being a nanny to this child I’m not convinced exists, but he actually wants me to live at his house? Full-time?
“Mia will have her own room, of course. Really it’s like a little apartment, just with more supervision. She’ll stay in my sister’s wing.”
“Wing?” my mom echoes, lost.
Flashing one of his charming smiles, Mateo tells her, “We have a very large home.”
“Wow,” she says, frowning as she visibly tries to process. “So she would… live with you? For how long?”
“As long as she wants to work for me. Until she goes off to college? If she goes to a local school, she can stay; we’ll work her schedule around the other nanny.”
“Where’s your daughter’s mother?” she asks, confused.
His lips press firmly together and he leans back in his seat, distraught. “Unfortunately… she abandoned us, a couple of years ago.”
Hand to her heart once more, my mother laments, “Oh, how terrible.”
He nods, accepting her sympathy. “Mia’s very good with her, so I think it’ll be good for Isabella to have her around. And Mia’s nearly finished with high school anyway, so she probably would’ve moved out soon—I believe she mentioned you might be moving in with… Brax?”
Still haven’t met Isabella. Never once mentioned Brax.
Less enthused at the prospect while sitting across from a wealthy single father, she says, “Oh, yeah, well, maybe. I don’t know, we’ll see.” She looks at the envelope again like it’s dessert. It’s gotta be killing her not to count it and see how much is there.
“Well… I think… if it’s okay with Mia, we could probably try that out. I’ll have to pay a sitter to take her place, so I think it would definitely be a good idea for her to send half her pay home,” she says, glancing over at me. “But yeah. I mean, it sounds like a great job. We were talking about her trying to find something to help out—this wasn’t what I had in mind, exactly, but when opportunity knocks…”
Mateo’s grin isn’t even victorious. He knew he’d win, because he came armed with money and bullshit.
And just like that, I’m for all intents and purposes sold to the Morelli family.
Chapter Seventeen
Vince’s hand moves along the curve of my bare back, his touch light, almost absent.
I’m tummy down on the bed, my head resting on my arms on top of my soft, fluffy pillow. I like him touching me. I like sharing a bed.
“You’re gonna put me to sleep,” I tell him with a relaxed smile.
Cracking a smile, he says, “It’s after midnight; that’s probably a good thing.”
I sigh as his hand settles along the small of my back, and turn my face to look at him. It reminds me of the night he snuck in to hold me. It’s so strange, at our age, to know he won’t have to sneak anymore.
It’s been two weeks, and the transition hasn’t been as hard as I expected.
Mateo seems to have backed off Vince now, letting us get settled. I’m staying in Vince’s bedroom, not my own, like he told my mother, but that’s proving to be really nice. I’ve still only seen Isabella once in passing, when her actual nanny was hauling her out of the room. Vince got me a few more dresses so I have a variety to choose from for our nightly dinners, and the one on Sundays is actually kind of nice, not as obnoxious as it initially sounded.
It’s bizarre, but I really do feel like I’m becoming part of this family.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep,” I point out. In the time I’ve been here, I’ve noticed Vince generally rises even before I do, and I take a lot more time to get ready for school. I thought sharing a bathroom on the same schedule might prove difficult, but Vince is usually at the gym first thing—the in-house gym—and apparently he showers there.
It does explain the physique I so enjoy, I guess.
“Maybe. I like looking at you in my bed,” he tells me, eyes twinkling. “Seems like a better use of my time than sleeping.”
I grin, stretching my arms out. “Well, when you put it that way…”
His hand doesn’t leave my back but he scoots closer, bringing my body against his. “I know I shouldn’t, but I like having you here.”
At that, I roll my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean,” he says, easily enough. “I didn’t want it under these circumstances, but I rest easier with you next to me.”
Snuggling my face into his chest, I murmur, “Well, I’m happy to be of service.”
For a few minutes, he just holds me. I find myself getting a little tranquil, ready to drift off, when his quiet words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “I didn’t want to do it, you know.”
I’m quiet, not sure what to say, but I think I know what he’s talking about. I’m tempted to cut him off, to tell him we don’t have to talk about it, but it’s a selfish impulse. We’ve never actually addressed what happened the night of the fire, and to be honest, I never really wanted to. If he needs to talk, though, I don’t want to shut him down.
“Do what?” I finally ask, when he doesn’t go on.
“Your neighbors.”
Damn. I take a breath, searching my brain for what to say in this scenario. “I figured as much.”
“When you saw me outside that night, I didn’t even know what to feel. Part of me was almost relieved. If you would’ve told on me, if I would’ve been caught, at least it would’ve been over.”
I pull back, frowning. “Well, it wouldn’t have been over. You would’ve been in jail, but probably not forever. Even if you were, don’t they… I don’t know, again, my knowledge comes from movies, but you wouldn’t really be ‘out’ of your family, right?”
“Mateo wouldn’t have let me go to jail. He doesn’t trust me.”
I don’t get it at first. I think he’s saying Mateo has enough influence to have kept him out of jail, but then how would he be out of anything?
Then it hits me, and I can practically feel the color drain out of my face. “He… he would’ve killed you?”
“Would’ve had to. I know way too much.”
“But you wouldn’t have talked,” I say, though I don’t know why I believe that. I guess I figure if I wouldn’t talk, surely someone born to this family wouldn’t.
“He wouldn’t have believed that though. They would’ve thrown the book at me, to try to get me to talk about him. He knows that. Wouldn’t have taken the risk.”
“But you’re family,” I point out, baffled.
Meeting my gaze, Vince tells me, “We have to be loyal to him, Mia. He doesn’t have to be loyal to us.”
Scowling, I tell him, “That’s not right. It should go both ways.�
��
“As long as it doesn’t inconvenience him, it does. But he doesn’t let anyone get in his way.”
I lean back into him, hugging him tightly. I was too afraid to report them anyway, but it scares me to know that if I wouldn’t have been, I might’ve gotten Vince killed.
“I try not to think about it,” he goes on, my head tucked beneath his chin. “But it’s harder at night, when I’m alone. I don’t know how Adrian does this without feeling it.”
I’m still not altogether clear on Adrian’s role in this family, but he seems to be Mateo’s right hand man, and he was there with Vince that night, so he seems pivotal. I want to ask, but it doesn’t seem like the right time.
“Maybe he doesn’t,” I suggest. I don’t know how either, but I try to come up with something comforting. “It’s not supposed to be easy to take a life,” I add, though I’m not sure if that’s helpful. It sounds more like a lecture, now that I think about it. “But what was the alternative? If you wouldn’t have done it, I assume it still would’ve happened, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So… really, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I assume things would’ve been worse for you, there would’ve been some penalty for disobedience. You only did what you had to do.”
“But I still did it. Me, not someone else. It doesn’t help to know it would’ve happened anyway; I don’t care about those people, I just….”
I want to tell him I understand, but I don’t. I can’t fathom doing what he did, even if I didn’t have a choice.
“Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to, just to make it,” I tell him, even though it sounds generic to my ears. “It’s okay to feel badly about it—that’s healthy. But… it’s done now. Don’t let the guilt crush you. Learn something from it if you can, but let it go. You’re young, you still have your whole life ahead of you. If you start carrying that kind of baggage already, what hope do you have of a happy life?”
“I don’t think I have a chance at that regardless, Mia.”
“Well, I disagree. Maybe Mateo would be more understanding than you think. Maybe you could tell him you don’t want to do stuff like that anymore—or, if you don’t want to talk to him about it, just… make yourself more useful in a different division.”
“Division?” he asks, amusement finally breaking through his gloom.
“Yeah, department, whatever. I don’t know how this crap works, but another area. Whatever you want to call it. If Mateo’s interested in utility, be more useful doing something else. He won’t waste you on something literally anyone could do if it benefits him to have you doing something else.”
He doesn’t immediately respond, and I wonder if that wasn’t good advice in this scenario. In a company I think it would be, but I guess it could be different in a criminal empire. When he does speak, however, he says, “That’s a good point.”
“See,” I say, a little proud of myself. “Plus, you have this wonderful live-in girlfriend to come home to now. If that’s not a recipe for a happy life, I don’t know what is.”
He pulls back just enough to kiss me, and the look he gives me after looses a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. “You are pretty wonderful,” he agrees.
“You have your moments, too,” I tease.
“We should just stay in this bed and never leave,” he decides.
“Oh, that we could,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck as his body comes down on top of mine. He grabs a condom, moving easily between my legs, and I sigh happily as he pushes inside me for the second time tonight.
---
“Who are you marrying?”
Francesca looks up, startled, as I drop into the seat across from her. Seeing it’s just me, she gives a little laugh, flipping the next page of her Bridal Guide magazine. “No one. Ever. I’m going to die childless and alone.”
“Sounds like fun,” I say, spearing a strawberry and popping it into my mouth.
“All fun, all the time, that’s my life,” she agrees easily, tilting her head as she gazes down at a beautiful white ball gown.
After a few minutes, she flips her magazine closed and passes it across the table in my direction. “You can have it if you want.”
I blink at the magazine in surprise. “Me?”
“You’ll get married before I do,” she says wryly, standing and collecting her breakfast dishes.
“Does everyone in this house know I’m only 18?” I ask, partially in jest, but also legitimately baffled. “Who gets married this young? Also, while Vince and I are… you know, great, I’ve only been officially his girlfriend for two weeks. I think we all need to pump the brakes on our expectations of this relationship.”
With a look verging on haughty, Francesca shakes her head as she heads for the kitchen. “I tried to tell you.”
When she returns, Francesca pauses beside me at the table. “I know you don’t really need the money anymore, but if you wanted something to do, you could help me out at the bakery.”
There are plenty of leisurely activities to do at the house, but it might be nice to actually be around other people once in a while. Not to mention, Francesca and Vince seem to get along, and I should probably nurture relationships with the Morellis he actually likes.
“Sure, I’d like that,” I tell her, nodding my head.
Flashing me a smile, she says, “Great. You can have Vince drop you off after school,” and then she’s off, leaving me to finish my breakfast by myself.
Chapter Eighteen
Although the girls assure me I’m totally-definitely-for-sure not a prisoner of any kind, Mateo is still not enthusiastic about the idea of me going out unattended. Vince usually gives me rides to and from school, but now that I’ll have a job, I don’t know if he’ll always be around to escort me. I don’t know how that’ll end up working, but for my first day, Vince gives me a ride.
When we enter the bakery and see a fairly attractive guy behind the front counter, I notice Vince’s arm possessively moves around my waist.
The guy behind the counter smiles at me. “You must be Mia. Francesca said you’d be in.”
“Is she not here?” I ask, confused.
“She had to step out. She’ll be back soon. I’ll be training you today anyway, so if you wanna come on back, we can get started.”
I go to pull away from Vince, but he pulls me into him, kissing me. “I’ll pick you up when I’m done.”
He’s being silly, but I just smile, catching his hand for a squeeze, then dropping it. “Be safe.”
Once Vince leaves, my trainer introduces himself as Mark. “I take it you’re Vince’s old lady,” he says lightly.
“Oh yeah. Heavy emphasis on the old,” I say, nodding.
“So, Mia, you do a lot of baking?”
“If fish sticks count,” I tell him.
Smiling, he heads to the back and grabs a plastic-wrapped package. “All right then, we’ll start you off with assembly. I need to wrap and tie 250 cookies for a wedding—you can speed it up by helping me. These cookies are already dry, but I have a batch I’ll have to decorate tonight. I’ll show you how to flood and decorate them. I assume you’re not going to be here on your own?”
“Oh no, I am firmly an assistant. The cakes I do make come from Betty Crocker.”
“Gotcha.”
After showing me around the bakery, we get to work on the cookies. “Have you been a baker long?” I ask him, tying the cookie bag.
“A few months,” he says. “What about you? Been an old lady long?”
Cracking a smile, I shake my head. “Not at all.”
He messes up a cookie and sets it aside. “Gotta be kind of a rough gig, huh?”
“Rough? Uh, not really, not so far. The food’s good.”
Mark sets a tray aside. “Oh, yeah, I bet. What’s your favorite?”
“That’s hard. We have, like, legit family dinners every night. It’s basically like living in the 50’s, but with iPhones.” I pause to consider. �
��I guess… Francesca’s chicken and pesto pasta. I’ve never been able to make a batch of pesto that’s good enough to make a second time, but Francesca’s was delicious.”
Nodding like I just earned street cred, he says, “Great pick. I have a pretty good pesto recipe myself. One of these days when you’re working a long enough shift for lunch, we’ll have to have a pesto cook-off, see whose is better.”
“That may be the best idea anyone has ever had,” I state.
Time flies by as we pack up the cookies. Mark’s really easy-going and friendly, which is a nice change of pace from the intense, gun-wielding men I now live with. It’s refreshing, and by the end of my shift, I’m really pleased I took the job.
---
Adrian is pacing.
I’m coming back from the pool when I see him outside Mateo’s study, trying his best to wear a hole in the floor.
“Hey, Adrian,” I greet.
I didn’t expect to, given our bumpy start and his position within the Morelli family, but I quite like Adrian.
Glancing up, he offers a gruff nod and resumes his pacing.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He nods again, not looking up or interrupting his pace.
I’m just about to shrug this off as him being an oddball and go to the kitchen to grab some lunch when the study door opens. Mateo is standing there, and he pushes it open for Elise to walk out. I peer in to see they were alone together. Elise flashes Adrian and me a wordless smile before she slides past us and down the hall.
Adrian stops short, standing in front of Mateo with all the eagerness of a kid on Christmas morning. “Did you talk to her?”
“I did,” Mateo replies, but he’s distracted. Instead of looking at Adrian, or having the conversation he’s obviously eager to start, Mateo’s eyes are wandering over my body.
I remember I’m in a bikini then, and promptly flush. There’s a towel wrinkled up and draped over my arm, but I can’t exactly whip it off and wrap it around myself now without being pretty obvious.
Amusement at my discomfort is written all over his face as he smiles at me. “Enjoying the amenities?”