Last Words (Morelli Family, #7)

by Sam Mariano

  “I promise, you do not. And there are no pre-dinner cigars. That’s a poker game thing.”

  “It all sounds very cool from a safe distance,” she states.

  “Yes, speaking as someone whose life he ruined, let me tell you how cool he is.”

  Carly tilts her head back, looking unimpressed. “Speaking as your current girlfriend, I’d like to invite you to alter that stupid thing you just said.”

  I smile at the lunatic snuggled up against me and lean down to give her a kiss. “Fine, I guess my life isn’t so bad.”

  “Better, but not great.”

  “I love you?”

  She smiles. “Much better.”

  “I love you and your Easter egg wreath.”

  Looping her arm around my neck, her smile grows to a grin. “Yes! I knew you were perfect, you just needed a little dusting off.”

  I roll my eyes, but she crushes her lips against mine and I forget to tell her what a giant nerd she is. It’s hard to tell her she’s a nerd though, since she follows up by dragging my shirt off, sliding down my body, and working absolute magic with her mouth.

  “Your turn,” I tell her, pushing her back on the couch and climbing on top of her.

  “Yes, sir,” she says, tugging off her sweater and tossing it on the floor.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket.

  “No,” Carly objects. “Tell them you’re not coming in. You have better things to do. Namely, me.”

  We had a no-call, no-show this week, so I’ve been picking up extra shifts. Carly’s right though, I don’t see any good reason to stop what I’m doing here.

  I frown at the display. No one from work calls me from an unknown number.

  Unease crawls down my spine and I’m tempted to ignore the call.

  “What’s wrong?” Carly asks, a faint frown of concern on her pretty face.

  I hit ignore.

  “Nothing,” I tell her, shaking my head. “It’s not work. Probably someone telling me I won a fucking cruise again.”

  That makes her smile. “Hey, I wouldn’t say no to a cruise. We could hit up the Caribbean. Spend a few days on the beach. Maybe you should tell them you’re on board next time.”

  The phone rings again.

  Unknown number.

  “You better answer it,” Carly advises. “They’ll just keep calling.”

  I sit back on my heels, staring at the screen. Too many horrible scenarios fly through my head, but I tell myself maybe it’s just a wrong number. It’s not Adrian, calling to tell me he’s outside but he doesn’t want to splatter my pretty girlfriend’s brains all over the wall, so I need to make an excuse and get away.

  It’s just a wrong number.

  I touch the button and accept the call, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  The deep voice on the other end is calm and collected, the tone of someone who doesn’t let anyone haunt his fucking dreams. It’s also the voice that shows up in every one of mine. “Hello, Vince.”

  I close my eyes, blood rushing through my veins, blocking my ability to hear, to think. Pure adrenaline shoots through me. My grip on the phone tightens. My nails bite into the palm of my free hand as it clenches into a fist. Fury like I haven’t felt in a while unfurls inside me—helpless fucking fury.

  It’s over.

  It’s all over.

  My time is up.

  I finally stumble into some happiness, and the asshole fucking finds me.

  I don’t answer, but he keeps talking because the arrogant fucker knows I didn’t hang up on him. “Your father’s dead,” he states, without emotion. “You need to come back to Chicago and make arrangements for him.”

  I rear back slightly, confused. “What?”

  Sighing impatiently, Mateo asks, “Have you forgotten how much I hate repeating myself, Vince? Take notes this time. Ben’s dead. You’re the only surviving son. Funeral arrangements need to be made. I’m not going to do it.”

  “How fucking stupid do you think I am?” I ask him.

  His tone is droll. “You don’t really want me to answer that, do you?”

  “I come back to Chicago, I’m dead.”

  “If I wanted you dead, you would be,” he informs me. “I expect you here tomorrow. Adrian will call you later to tell you where we’re meeting. We have to clear you before you come to the house, of course.” He misses a beat, then adds, “Bring your girlfriend. I’m sure we’d all like to meet her.”

  He doesn’t waste his breath saying goodbye to me, just ends the call and leaves me sitting here a mess of confusion, my world turned upside down.

  Carly sits up, watching my face with concern. “Vince, baby, what’s wrong? Who was that?”

  I can’t even speak. I drop my phone somewhere in the couch cushions. I shake my head, climbing off her and wandering across the living room.

  He knows where I am.

  He knows my phone number.

  He knows about Carly.

  Someone is watching us, even now.

  Carly comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around me and hugging my back. “Vince, what’s wrong?”

  “He found me.”

  Part

  Three

  Chapter Eighteen

  Vince

  “Look, I’m no happier about this than you are. Stop looking at me like that.”

  I stare at the back of Alec’s head, nursing the ulcer that’s been growing in my gut since I got the phone call yesterday.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. I didn’t want to. When I hung up the phone, when I recovered my senses, I went straight to Carly’s closet and started grabbing clothes, throwing them in a suitcase. We could run. Throw a bag together, abandon the Easter wreath, and leave. Go somewhere else, somewhere he wouldn’t find me. We could cross the border this time.

  Carly pointed out that there was no way in hell any of that could happen. Not only because he already has eyes on me who would just report back to me, but because she wasn’t about to leave Laurel alone in Chicago with Mateo knowing who Carly is. All he’d have to do to get to me then would be grab Laurel. Also, we would never make it to the border, so there wouldn’t even be time for that.

  In short, Carly made me fly to Chicago. She forced me onto the plane, tried to reassure me everything would be all right while we were in the air, then dragged my ass to the car Mateo sent for us.

  Alec is driving. Bastard. Didn’t even send Adrian, like he wants me to know I’m not an Adrian-level threat. I want to punch him in the face, and I haven’t even been back in Chicago a whole hour.

  “You been to Flavor, Carly?” Alec asks, since I’m not very talkative. “Nice restaurant. Good food.”

  Even in my cocoon of paralyzing hatred, I can’t help noticing my friendly girlfriend is not friendly to Alec.

  Her tone is curt and she turns her head to look out the window at the city as we pass. “Nope.”

  Alec gives up trying to talk to either one of us and just drives. I have been to Flavor though. Most recently, when I had to drive there to pick up Mia because Mateo got her drunk on wine and Sal was worried about letting him drive her home.

  Sal.

  Carly’s link to Sal floats back to my mind. Will we see him? It’s fucking Easter weekend. I don’t know how long funeral arrangements are going to take on Easter weekend. I wish we could just cremate the asshole, take the urn, and fly back on a red eye tonight.

  He doesn’t deserve a burial anyway.

  I know Mateo won’t let me get away with that, though. He couldn’t give a single fuck less about our fathers, but they each get their proper burials anyway, then we file them away as ancient history and go on as if they’d never lived.

  Only they did, and the legacies of their destruction live on in us.

  “I can’t do this.”

  Carly’s head turns in my direction and she places a comforting hand on my knee. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I need to get out of this fucking car. This is a mistake. W
e can’t….”

  “You have to get your inheritance,” Alec tells me.

  “I don’t give a fuck about my inheritance,” I tell him. “Stop the car and let me out.”

  “Vince.” Carly takes my hand, squeezing it and meeting my gaze, her blue eyes full of support. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “It’s not going to be fine. I can’t see….” I fail to finish that sentence. I don’t even know how to finish it. I don’t know which one I’m dreading seeing more—him, or her.

  Her blue eyes dim. She keeps holding my hand, but I can see she’s not entirely sure how to fill in that blank either.

  “I don’t want to do this. I don’t care who makes the arrangements, I don’t want to.”

  “There’s no one else,” she points out. “Would you make Cherie do it?”

  “Mateo could’ve done it,” I state, looking out the window. “He’s going to wreck everything. He didn’t bring me here to plan a funeral; he brought me here to wreck my fucking life—again.”

  “At least you’ll get some delicious ham out of it,” Alec quips.

  I glare at him in the front seat. “Do I seem fucking amused to you, Alec?”

  “Just trying to lighten the mood. This chauffeuring around unwilling passengers gig is a real drag. Don’t know how Adrian manages.”

  “I’m sure he was downright cheerful when he started working for Mateo,” I mutter.

  “He’s pretty cheerful now, when he’s not working. Elise just had a brand new baby. A little girl this time.”

  I don’t fucking care if Adrian had another baby.

  “Francesca’s coming for Easter dinner,” Alec says, when the Adrian update fails to entice me into speaking.

  That catches my attention. “And Sal?”

  “Of course. She was real excited about it. Apparently Sal’s mom wanted them to…”

  Alec continues to fill the car with an explanation of how Francesca and Sal managed to get out of Easter dinner at Sal’s mom’s house, but my attention turns to Carly as she sinks back into the seat. Now we’re both dreading seeing ghosts from our past.

  After a purgatorial car ride, we arrive at the restaurant. Mateo wanted to meet somewhere public, but private enough that no one will cast funny looks when Adrian inevitably pats us down. Alec already did at the airport—and that was after we went through fucking security, like I could possibly get a gun through airport security—but Mateo is always thorough.

  I feel sick. I hold Carly’s hand more tightly than I mean to, and I feel so weird about bringing her. For every reason. The worst is the tiny corner or my mind that conjures up the thought that I wonder if it will bother Mia that I brought a girl with me.

  My stomach is a cyclone of anxiety. I think I would rather die than go to this dinner.

  I look over at Carly as we stand in the elevator, traveling up to the floor where Mateo’s private room is. Carly looks beautiful. She’s wearing a long sleeved black lace shirt—modest, except for the fact that the lace is mostly see-through. A black and gold skirt is wrapped around her hips and she has on black heels.

  She definitely doesn’t look like an escort.

  I wonder if Mateo knows she was.

  He probably does. If she worked for Sal, it wouldn’t take a whole lot of cross referencing once he found us to figure out where she came from.

  “Who all is here?” I ask Alec.

  He glances over the shoulder of his cranberry jacket. “Just you guys. Mateo, Mia, Adrian, and you guys.”

  “Hell. Got it.”

  Carly rolls her shoulders and releases a breath that makes me feel like an asshole. I’m so wrapped up in my own clusterfuck of emotions, I’m hardly even present for her.

  I’ll make it up to her later, provided we live that long.

  “He’s not really going to make us eat, right?” I ask.

  Alec smirks. “Man, a few years away has done you good. It’s like you’ve never met him.”

  I roll my eyes. Of course he will. Fucker will sit there, completely unconcerned with the discomfort of everyone at the table, and enjoy his fucking meal.

  Carly speaks up. “Are we going to take care of the funeral stuff after dinner? I mean, if we can get it all taken care of quickly, we might not even have to stay for Easter dinner.”

  “Yeah, no,” Alec says, shaking his head. “Cherie already knows you’re coming and Maria is excited. You’re staying.”

  The elevator dings and the doors to Hell open. For every wild beat of my heart, a new memory hits me. Alec escorts us across the room and I see the table. Adrian stands in front of it, waiting. Mateo stands beside him. My heart stalls as I look for Mia, but I don’t immediately see her, so my gaze drifts back to Mateo.

  He stands there with his arms crossed in his well-tailored suit, a no-nonsense look on his face. When I meet his gaze, though, a gleam of humor enters his eyes and fills me with distrust. What’s amusing? What could possibly be amusing him? Is he laughing at me? Is it because he knows Carly was an escort and thinks I don’t? Is there some other horrible fucking surprise waiting for me? Maybe Mia’s pregnant. Alec gave me updates on various people, but he never mentioned Mia once.

  My shoulders are so tense, I can already feel an ache coming on.

  Now I look over at Carly, realizing she’s seeing him for the first time, too. I remember the first time Mia met Mateo. It was forced, like this, but I wasn’t even there when she first laid eyes on him. Cherie filled in blanks, but she didn’t want to alarm me, so I don’t know how accurate her recount of the meeting was.

  I can’t tell what Carly’s feeling. She looks guarded. Good. She needs to be guarded. Every guard she possesses needs to gather around her gates and work as hard as they fucking can to keep my family out.

  I can’t believe I brought her here. I shouldn’t have. I should have left her home and faced this week on my own. She would’ve been my safe place to go back to after Mateo rips me to shreds again.

  He will. I know he will. It’s what he does. Devours you, then spits out your bones like a fucking monster.

  He spares me a faint nod of acknowledgement as I approach. “Vince.”

  I don’t bother returning the greeting. I take off my coat and hand it to Mateo to check while Adrian pats me down.

  When Adrian bends to pat my legs, that’s when I see Mia. She was obscured from my view when we walked up because they were blocking her, but now… now I see her.

  My stomach turns over as her soft blue eyes meet mine. She’s as lovely as ever, sitting there in a black dress, so much of her creamy skin showing. Her blonde hair is down, but styled, half pinned back with some kind of pearl-encrusted things to hold it all in place. God, she’s… she’s still so beautiful.

  I break her gaze, looking over at Carly. I hope she wasn’t watching just now. I feel like such an asshole. I love Carly, I adore Carly, I’m happy with Carly.

  It’s just, the woman sitting at that table still owns a small corner of my soul.

  Carly is more focused on watching Mateo than me, so I guess she didn’t see. Her gaze on Mateo draws mine to him though, and now I see that he was.

  Fuck.

  I don’t know what my face looked like when I saw Mia, but knowing what my stomach felt like, I guess it probably wasn’t good. The indecipherable glow in his brown eyes verifies that hunch. His eyes tell me “she’s mine, asshole,” and he’s not a terribly jealous man.

  I need alcohol.

  I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this dinner, let alone the rest of this week.

  Once Adrian clears us, Mateo moves to greet Carly first, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you, Carly.”

  She looks at it for a second, then reaches forward and shakes it. “You too, Mr. Morelli.”

  “Mateo,” he replies.

  I half-heartedly monitor the interaction for undertones of trouble, but I think the most telling advisory board here is Mia. I want to see if she looks worried that Mateo is talking to another wom
an, so I steal a glance back at her.

  She’s not even watching us. She’s bent over, reaching for something beneath the table. Probably rooting around in her purse for her phone or something.

  I turn my attention back to Carly and see her lips pursed, her eyes on me. Adrian and Mateo are watching me, as well.

  Well, fuck. I can’t even explain why I was looking to Mia for a response because last time I tried to warn a girlfriend that Mateo is a nefarious bastard, it completely backfired.

  “Good to see some things never change,” Adrian mutters, before heading back to the table.

  Irritation ripples through me. Mateo follows Adrian and Carly catches up with me. I don’t have the time and this isn’t the place, but I grab her hand, making an attempt at an explanation. “It wasn’t… I wasn’t…”

  Carly nods her head, forcing a smile to let me know it’s okay. “I know.”

  She doesn’t sound confident, but I don’t even expect her to. That she’s trying is more than I could have really asked for.

  I release her hand as we approach the table. Mia is upright again, but now she stands. She fidgets with her own hands, her gaze jumping from person to person, afraid to settle on any of us. At least she feels as awkward as I do.

  Then Carly grabs hold of the ship I’m attempting to keep afloat and turns it upside down, rushing forward to embrace Mia. Mia is as confused as I am when Carly comes at her.

  “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Carly pulls back, still holding onto Mia’s albows. Mia regards Carly like a wild animal that has suddenly donned a leotard and started dancing.

  “Um… yes, and you. It’s nice to meet you, too,” Mia says, trying to recover.

  My jaw nearly hits the table. What the fuck is Carly doing?

  Smiling brightly, apparently, and telling Mia how pretty she is.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Mateo regards the interaction with interest, and given every experience I’ve ever had, and his penchant for collecting girlfriends, I grab Carly and yank her back.

  She turns, startled.