Coming Home (Morelli Family, #6)

by Sam Mariano

  I’m shaking, but I have the key. I ease back onto my side of the bed, inserting the key into the lock as quietly as I can.

  And then Vince’s free hand flies over and grabs my wrist.

  I gasp, stomach sinking, and he glares at me.

  “Really, Mia?”

  “I—I just had to pee,” I say, even though it’s clearly a lie.

  He climbs up on his knees and shoves me down on the bed, my wrists at my side, pinning me down and continuing to glare at me. “Had to pee, huh?”

  I nod vigorously. “I didn’t want to wake you up. I was going to get back in bed. I don’t even know where we are—I wouldn’t know how to get home.”

  “I’m going to start punishing you for lying,” he tells me. “I hate it when you lie. It pisses me off. I’m going to break you of that dirty fucking habit.”

  “It’s not a habit,” I mutter.

  “Then stop fucking doing it. I’ll warn you this time, but this is the only warning you get, Mia. Next time you lie to me, I punish you for it.”

  “I hate this,” I tell him, wanting to lash out. “I hate you.”

  He cocks his head sarcastically and makes me wanna punch him in the jaw. “Huh, and just last night you were happy to see me.”

  I shake my head in denial. “No, not you. Not this you. Not asshole Vince. Last night I was happy to see a Vince who apparently doesn’t exist anymore. The Vince who actually cared about me—not the Vince who drugs me and takes things from me and rips me away from everyone I love. I want nothing to do with this Vince.”

  “Well, that’s too damn bed,” he tells me, like it makes no difference. Ripping the key from my fingers, he shoves it in his pocket and reaches across the desk to grab his phone from the charger at the other end. He mutters a curse when he sees the time. “I guess I’m not getting any fucking sleep.”

  “You can go back to sleep,” I tell him.

  “If I go back to sleep and wake up to you fishing around my pants, I’m going to assume you’re looking for my cock, and I’m going to fucking give it to you. Understand?”

  My heart sinks and I glare at him wordlessly as he climbs off me and moves back into the spot beside me.

  He goes back to sleep anyway.

  I’m so incredibly tempted to try for the key, but now I’m afraid to. I saw him shove it in his pocket, so the key’s even closer to me than it was before, but I don’t think I can fish it out of his pocket without waking him up. I don’t especially feel like getting raped right now, so maybe that’s not a great idea.

  Instead I alternate between glaring at the ceiling and crying until I, too, fall asleep.

  ---

  It’s dark when Vince wakes me up.

  He’s already up and out of bed. He’s filled two plastic cups from the bathroom with water and he’s sitting on the other side of the bed with the cupcake box open.

  “It’s time to hit the road,” he tells me. “I slept a lot longer than I meant to.”

  I’m still sluggish. I don’t know if it’s from him drugging me, the crying, the exhaustion from what he’s putting me through, or just lack of enough sleep.

  I haven’t eaten in a long time, either. I guess it could be that.

  Now we each have a cupcake and split the third—an Oreo cupcake.

  “This still Cherie’s favorite?” he asks, almost off-handedly.

  “I don’t know,” I mutter. “Cherie hates me now.”

  He nods, like he’s not too surprised. “That makes sense. You did start fucking Satan.”

  “And when it seemed like he’d murdered you,” I point out. “She’s lucky to be alive, actually. Cherie triggered a nervous breakdown that nearly made me lose my mind. Mateo wanted to kill her.”

  This does surprise him. “You had a nervous breakdown over me?”

  “Not over you,” I correct, pulling a piece of cupcake off and sticking it in my mouth. “Over my own sense of guilt.”

  He nods like that makes more sense. “So, you started fucking him again right away, huh? Did you at least make him take it from you the first few times, or did you just open your legs for him with my blood still on his hands?”

  “Don’t be gross,” I admonish. “You have no idea what I went through when all that happened.”

  “Well, I know you ended up on a beach in the Bahamas with him, so it doesn’t seem like you suffered too much.”

  I scowl at him. “It’s been four years and you weren’t actually dead. How long am I supposed to suffer, Vince? And how did you know he took me to the Bahamas?”

  He pops a piece of cupcake in his mouth. “You told me last night. You don’t remember?”

  “No, Vince, I don’t remember. You drugged me. I don’t remember much of anything.”

  He smirks at me, like it’s amusing to have that over me. “Huh. Bet that’s a little scary, isn’t it?”

  I roll my eyes, ignoring him and finishing my half of the Oreo cupcake. When I first saw him, the good memories were all that remained. After he “died” I steeped myself in them, remembering the times I’d failed him, glorifying his memory. Even once I found out he was alive, those feelings didn’t dissipate. I cared more for Vince after he was gone than I had when he was sitting right beside me. But that’s because he was only a memory, and I could block out shit like this. I could block out any of the unkindness and remember him making goofy faces at me when we went out to eat. I could block out the faint aura that hangs around him of a bomb just waiting to go off. Instead of recalling him telling me he’d burn Mateo’s house down if I left him, I remembered him buying me groceries when I was poor and embarrassed at my local grocery store.

  My brain has a very inconvenient way of doing that, I’ve realized.

  I did the same thing with Mateo. Obviously that worked out with him, and it would’ve been harmless if I never saw Vince again, but now I’m disappointed. He should’ve stayed a memory. I could’ve kept loving his memory. Now I have to deal with his reckless reality.

  One thing’s for sure. When I get back in Mateo’s strong arms, however the hell I get there, I’m not holding this Vince crap against him anymore. If I would’ve let him deal with this shit his way, I would be at home getting ready to pick Bella up from school tomorrow, ready to get my Meg on and make nice with some mean little brat’s concerned mom. Instead I have to take an involuntary road trip with my psycho ex-boyfriend.

  I miss my family.

  I miss Mateo.

  I want to go home.

  ---

  “I have to pee.”

  “I told you to pee when I got gas,” he replies.

  “I didn’t need to then. Now I do.”

  My legs are also stiff, my butt hurts, and I just want to get out of this damn car. He handcuffed me to the door again, and I’m pretty sure it was just to annoy me this time.

  Now he mutters and complains about what a pain in the ass I am, but a few minutes later he pulls off the freeway and takes me to a gas station. The bathroom is inside and he doesn’t trust me to go alone, so Vince walks me in and waits outside for me to pee.

  He doesn’t let me bring my purse. I look at the mirror, contemplating how I wish he would’ve. I have a lipstick in there. I could’ve written a note for the next person to come inside.

  It seems like Vince thinks of that, though. Even though he didn’t let me bring anything in the bathroom, he peeks in to make sure I didn’t try to leave any kind of breadcrumb before he grabs my hand and hauls me back through the gas station so we can return to the cursed car.

  “I’m hungry,” I tell him, trying to tug my wrist free.

  “You have a lot of needs,” he says, like this is inconvenient.

  “Couldn’t we stop and get some actual food? I’m still sluggish and I don’t know if it’s from lack of food or you drugging me.”

  “Want to say that a little louder?” he asks, casting a look of displeasure my way.

  “I would, actually,” I tell him. “Why do you even want to take me w
ith you? You’re clearly annoyed at me. Like, all the time. I’m obviously not bringing you any joy. It’s okay to call this a loss. You tried; it didn’t work out. Admirable effort. Why don’t you just leave me here and go back to wherever you call home these days? I’ll call Mateo and have him pick me up. If you give me up on your own, I can convince him not to kill you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’d love trying to convince him,” he says sourly.

  “I would,” I tell him, with relish. “He’d make me worship his big cock—”

  I’m about to get meaner, but Vince’s grip on my wrist tightens and he swings around, backing me into a display of boxed doughnuts.

  Some random chick in the aisle looks up, so he backs off, but he still looks like he wants to kill me. His jaw is locked. He pulls me a little harder than necessary toward the door and leads me back out to the car. He fastens the cuffs around my wrists once I’m inside. I give him a good glare. He doesn’t care.

  “Just let me go,” I say, one more time.

  He smirks, shaking his head, and slams the door in my face.

  Chapter Nine

  Vince

  I imagined Mia and I would talk a lot more during this long-ass car ride, but I also imagined she would piss me off a lot less. I’m not sure why, now that I think about it. I remember now that she used to piss me off all the time, but always because of Mateo. I thought with him not around, it would be smoother sailing.

  He’s still around though. The bastard isn’t even here, and she still manages to annoy me with him. The worst part is, once I stop being so pissed off at her, I feel bad. I didn’t mean to push her into the display back at the gas station. I didn’t think, I just reacted, but that’s exactly the sort of shit that pushed her away before. And now it’s not even a matter of pushing her away—I don’t have her. Maybe she’s sitting here in this car with me, but she’s not present. It drives me fucking crazy when she does that. I want to know what she’s sitting over there thinking about, but I know it’s probably him, so I don’t ask.

  I tell myself it won’t be like this once we get home. The car ride was bound to be tense. She didn’t want to come with me, after all.

  “You never thought about leaving him?”

  I don’t know why I ask that. I regret the question as soon as it’s out, but she glances my way, guarded but bored enough to answer.

  “No,” she says. “It wasn’t an option anyway, but… I didn’t want to.”

  “How long did you think I was dead?”

  “A little over a month. It felt like a lot longer, but it was about a month.”

  It’s weird to think about. I mean, I’ve thought about it a lot over the years, since Mateo made it clear that night when he brought Adrian in that he was going to tell Mia I was dead, that it would be in my best interest to stay dead, because if I ever resurfaced in Chicago, I would be.

  I didn’t even want to go, though. It was exactly what I’d wanted all my life, but I didn’t want to leave if it meant leaving Mia. Especially because I know him, and I know his patterns. He was intrigued by her then, but it wouldn’t last. Mateo loves women who are good at playing games, but eventually he gets bored with them. Eventually he learns all their moves and realizes they aren’t on his level.

  Meg’s a player. Mia’s a game.

  Maybe that’s why he hasn’t grown bored of her. Maybe Mia is a game he can keep on playing, instead of an opponent he gets bored with.

  But when I saw Mia’s face that night as he said those things to me, she looked as if he’d slapped her. She looked like she could actually see him, the real him, not the seductive package, but his ugliness. I didn’t want to leave her with that. I didn’t want to abandon her with him, because I was sure he’d break her. Mia’s not easy to break—it’s like trying to punch air, trying to break that girl, but if anyone could do it, it would be Mateo. I thought that night she might not survive him.

  So many nights since then I’ve had no clue if she ever did. I tried to move on. I carved out a life of my own—not as much fun as I expected it to be, but I still wanted it.

  Only I couldn’t find another Mia. I couldn’t find anyone who held my interest. After living life as a Morelli, the real world was pretty fucking boring.

  I couldn’t stay away. I became fixated on Mia, on how she used to make me feel. No one else could make me feel like she did. I wanted them to, but it wasn’t working. No one else could accept me for all that I am, because no one else could know all that I am. All that I have been. All that I’ve done. Some random-ass girl I pick up at a bar doesn’t know what I’m capable of. They can’t weather the nature I was born with.

  Mia always could. The good, the bad, the ugly. Even when she didn’t much like me, she could still ride me out.

  Mia never gives up on you, no matter what. She has an endless reserve of spirit. It’s the only way she could’ve made it through almost five years with the Morellis and still remain soft.

  I feel a little relieved, thinking about it. It’s comforting. Mia’s comforting. Right now she’s pissed off and difficult, but that’ll subside. I may not be Mateo, but I’ve got the same blood running through my veins. I can handle Mia. I can make her mine again.

  God, I can’t wait to get home.

  Everything will get better once we get there. Once Mia sees that I’m not overshadowed here, not eclipsed by fucking Mateo. Once Mia sees that I’m the king of her new fucking castle.

  I’m grinning just thinking about it. This is what it should’ve been like with her. I was too young before, not hard enough. I thought we could live under Mateo’s rule. I thought love was enough. I thought she loved me enough to resist Mateo. Everything’s going to be different now. Now there’s no one else to resist—all I have to do is keep her away from him. She’s mine again, and she’ll just have to fucking adjust.

  ---

  Mia’s asleep. She’s so fucking cute when she sleeps. She looks so innocent. It’s bizarre to think of her as innocent now, but she’s always felt that way. Even the morning after brutal hate sex, she still managed to exude a sweetness I wish they could bottle and sell.

  I hate knowing she’s been with Mateo for so long though. I hate that she’s been with him at all, but knowing he must’ve gotten bored with normal, I can only imagine the kind of dirty shit she’s done by now. He was never supposed to have her. I never should’ve let that happen. Even after all that shit the first time, he only sampled her. I should’ve never let her go after that. The asshole even warned me, and I wouldn’t listen.

  I finally turn onto our road and peace washes over me. Maybe I had to sell my own soul to get back my birthright, but I have to believe it’ll end up being worth it. She can fill up the hole inside me, and I’ll be able to give Mia everything she wants, all the shit Mateo could always beat me with. He won’t have the advantage like he used to. Mia will see that she can have me and still have everything she likes.

  Eventually. Not yet. She doesn’t fucking deserve it yet.

  Chapter Ten

  Mia

  “Wake up.”

  I try to swat away the hand lightly shaking my shoulder, but my hand is stuck. I don’t immediately remember why. Then my eyes open and I see myself cuffed to the door of Vince’s stupid car. I remember where I’m at, what’s going on.

  The car has stopped. That’s the first thing I realize. Also, it’s hot. Like, a lot hotter than I remember it being.

  “Why is it hot?” I ask, still half-asleep and confused.

  “Warm spell,” he explains.

  “Where are we?”

  “Home.” There’s pleasure in his voice when he says this. I’ve never known where Vince lived for obvious reasons, but Mateo showed me those pictures of Vince at an apartment complex all those years ago, flashed me a copy of his lease. For some reason, that’s where I expected Vince to be taking me. A flawed supposition, I realize, since why would he take me back to a place Mateo could easily check? But nothing else occurred to me.

&n
bsp; Now I’m sitting in his car, staring up at an enormous Mediterranean-style villa—seriously, huge. It’s smaller than Mateo’s mansion back in Chicago and a completely different style, but holy shit. This is clearly still a multi-million dollar estate. There’s no way Mateo gave him this much money to start a new life. No way.

  “Um… you live here?”

  He gets out of the car and walks around to my side, easing open the door. I lean forward and he bends down, unlocking my cuffs. They’ve irritated my wrists and now they’re sore. My legs are stiff and everything is vaguely achy as I climb out of the car. Vince closes the car door behind me and turns to glance back at the house as I look around.

  “Why is it so big?” I ask, thoroughly confused. “How did this happen? Did you hit the lottery?”

  He smirks, taking my hand and leading me around the huge edifice. There are two enormous palm trees flanking a big, gold, naked woman fountain in front. Is this a house or a resort? And where the fuck are we that there are palm trees?

  “Where are we, Vince?”

  “Vegas,” he says, simply.

  “Why?” I ask, frowning in confusion as he hauls me inside. He’s not planning some kind of insane quickie Vegas wedding, is he? What the hell else is in Vegas?

  Then my heart sinks, a long-buried nugget of knowledge floating to the surface.

  Vince’s dad lives in Las Vegas.

  I slow down, and he’s forced to slow down accordingly. “Oh, my god, no. Vince, you didn’t.”

  He looks annoyed at me again, but he doesn’t bother answering. If the fucking oversized Morelli palace wasn’t answer enough, that is.

  “You hate your father,” I remind him.

  “Turns out, not as much as I hate Mateo,” he says, simply.

  “Your father’s a rapist!” I declare, eyes wide.

  Flashing me a feigned look of surprise, he says, “Don’t tell me you have a problem with rapists now. You’ve been fucking yours for four years.”