Last Words (Morelli Family, #7)

by Sam Mariano

  “That’s terrible. Spite invites are terrible.”

  Mateo shrugs, unconcerned. “Vince doesn’t like him, either. I’d invite your old pal Mark if I didn’t hate him myself.”

  “It’s too much. Vince is too…” I don’t finish the thought, because it will only prove Mateo’s point. I’m not allowed to protect Vince anymore, I’m not allowed to keep him alive if he fails the test, but this test just feels like piling on. How can Mateo expect Vince, of all people, to pass if he’s going to blow up his whole world, leave him with nothing, and rub everything he doesn’t have right in his face?

  Well, he probably doesn’t.

  Mateo has made no secret that he wants to kill Vince, and he’s assured me if Vince can keep his shit together, then he will let Vince live.

  So he’s going to make sure Vince can’t keep his shit together.

  I shake my head, disappointed. “I just thought you were giving him a chance.”

  “I am giving him a chance,” Mateo tells me, firmly. “This is a chance, Mia. This is me going easy on him. I wanted to keep it simple. I wanted to take care of the problem in the simplest and most effective way possible, but you begged me to have mercy. This is what mercy looks like. The only way he gets to live is if he proves nothing I do can make him come back and try to take what belongs to me again. That’s it. No shortcuts. No sympathy. He has to be proven harmless, or he has to be eliminated. If this week is hard on him, that’s his problem. He created this situation. It’s not my fault Dom is his. It’s not my fault it upsets him that the girlfriend who hasn’t been his for years got married. None of that is my doing. Am I exploiting it? Sure. But he gave me the means.”

  I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any less difficult. “I just don’t like hurting him.”

  “Well, he doesn’t feel the same about you,” Mateo states, without sympathy.

  “Dada,” Roman says, thrusting a book into Mateo’s face.

  Mateo takes the book, cracking it open. “You want another story?”

  Roman grins and plops down in Mateo’s lap, looking down at the book and smacking it with his hand.

  “You want in on this?” I ask Dom, as he gnaws on his giraffe’s neck. He doesn’t answer, but he likes to listen to Mateo read books. I don’t think he can follow the story yet, but he loves the sound of Mateo’s voice. Both boys respond to it; I think that’s why they like when he tells them stories.

  I roll over on my side, propping Dom up against Mateo so he can see the book.

  I’m tired and my heart hurts, so I don’t pay much attention to this one. I curl up beside all my boys and close my eyes. A couple pages flip, then one of my boys attacks my head. I pry open an eye to see which one.

  Of course it’s my little sweetheart, Dom. He sees Momma’s not in a happy mood, so he climbs on top of me and plants his mouth against my cheek, giving me kisses.

  His sloppy baby kiss effectively lifts my mood. He’s so wonderful. I pull him off my head and settle him on the bed in front of me, snuggling him close like a little baby spoon. “Are you trying to make Mommy smile? You’re doing a good job.”

  He shows me his little toothless grin and touches my face, cooing at me.

  I sigh happily and snuggle him closer. Sometimes I think I might actually explode with how much I love this kid. He’s too good for us. We don’t deserve Dom. He’s a bundle of pure, uncomplicated love, and he’s too good for this world.

  Tonight he was used as a tool to hurt Vince, and I hate that so much.

  Roman hits the book and butts his head back against Mateo’s chest to express his displeasure that Mateo has stopped reading. Mateo is watching me instead, but he turns his attention back to the book so he can finish it.

  Once the book is finished, Mateo climbs off the bed, scooping up Roman. “I think it’s bed time for the boys.”

  “Dom has to eat again first,” I tell him.

  “He’ll fall asleep in two minutes like he always does.” Mateo slings a giggling Roman over his shoulder. “I’m taking this one to bed.”

  “Wait! Kisses.” Mateo backs up to the bed and squats down so Roman can give me goodnight kisses. I hold up Dom to get his kiss, but Roman pushes him in the face so I pull him back. “Hey, now, you be nice to your little brother.”

  Mateo stands back up and turns around, pointing his finger at me. “I’ll be back for you, and I expect to see far less clothing on your body.”

  I smile faintly. “I’ll be ready.”

  “See that you are,” he tosses back as he heads out of the bedroom.

  Sighing, I reach for the diaper caddy beside the bed. “I guess it’s time for you to go to sleep, little mister. Did you have a fun day?”

  He chews on his fist and babbles while I change his diaper and put his little blanket sleeper on. I pull up a pillow and prop him against my chest. He happily latches onto my nipple and settles his arm on my chest, looking up at me while he eats. I smile down at him, running my fingers through his hair. His eyes roll back, but he keeps suckling, struggling to stay awake.

  He’s out in three minutes flat. I’d like to keep holding him, but Mateo comes back and I’m still snuggling.

  “I’ll put him to bed,” he says, scooping Dom up and settling him against his chest. Dom’s little butt sticks out, his eyes closed, arm resting on Mateo’s chest. His adorable little mouth hangs open, his eyes closed peacefully. I sigh at the sight. Mateo winks, then heads to the little bedroom attached to ours where Dom sleeps.

  I tug off my clothes and toss them on the floor beside the bed. When Mateo comes back, climbing on bed and straddling my body, I inform him, “You’re a dastardly man.”

  “I know.” He drags his evil, sensual lips across mine.

  “Seducing me with your good daddy nonsense.”

  He laughs lightly. “It’s the only reason I do it.”

  I give him a dirty look, poking him in the chest.

  “And, you know, so they grow up to be well-developed individuals, of course,” he adds, bending to bury his face in the crook of my neck.

  “I don’t want to ruin Vince’s life,” I inform him.

  Mateo grabs my wrists, pinning them to the bed and leaning back to look at me. “Guess what I don’t want to do? Talk about Vince in bed.”

  “I like Carly. She seems nice.”

  “I’m a little less opposed to talking about Carly in bed, but it’s still not what I want to do.”

  “Hey,” I say, freeing my hand and shoving him in the chest.

  Grinning at me, he says, “Doesn’t feel nice, does it?”

  “You’re not a jealous man. I’m a jealous psycho. Different situations.”

  “Well, we could stop talking about both of them and I could fuck my beautiful wife after a long, annoying day. How about that?”

  “No, now I’m salty,” I tell him, falling back against the bed like a dead fish.

  “I was joking. You have to know you’re the only woman I want. I’ve torn at least a dozen lives apart to get you. I don’t do all that work for nothing.” Since I’m misbehaving, he fists a hand in my hair and eases back on his knees, dragging me forward. “Enough of this nonsense, wife. I jump through hoops to keep your heart in one piece and you criticize my methods. I think you should be a little more appreciative of your loving husband.”

  His authoritative tone melts me like a warm knife slicing through butter. I’m just like the babies, basking in his attention. He leads me forward and I happily get on my hands and knees. “I very much appreciate my husband.”

  He guides my mouth toward his cock. “Show me.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip and look up at him, then I move forward and proceed to show my wonderful husband just how much I appreciate him.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Vince

  Carly and I lie flat on the bed I used to sleep in with Mia, staring up at the ceiling.

  We both look like we’ve barely survived a war. That’s how I feel, and this is only
day one.

  “You weren’t exaggerating,” Carly finally says.

  I turn my head to look at her. “No. We’re in Hell.”

  She nods her head, still staring at the ceiling. “The way he drops bombs, man. Carefully orchestrated, one right after the other.”

  “Gives you just enough time to catch your breath, to grab onto hope you’ll emerge, then he drops a new one.”

  She looks over at me. “Are there more coming tomorrow?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, do you have any other potential children running around? Any other ghosts I don’t know about?”

  “I think he pretty much ripped the sheets off all of them today.”

  “Damn. We should’ve packed whiskey.”

  “He has some downstairs. I’ll go steal a decanter if you want.”

  Carly smiles faintly. “Don’t do anything else to provoke him. Let’s just try to get through this.”

  “You still want to get through this?”

  The tiny smile melts right off her face. “I’m not sure,” she says, quietly.

  My stomach twists, but I nod my understanding.

  “I love you,” she tells me, firmly. “I do. I’m just struggling a little bit with this non-consensual situation that apparently led to a baby.”

  “May have led to a baby,” I correct. They never actually verified Mia’s baby is mine. “I wasn’t the only…” I pause, realizing that doesn’t sound better. “When I took Mia, she was with Mateo. She wasn’t pregnant at the time, to my knowledge. She was sharing him then and she told me she couldn’t have the babies. So, when I… when I was with her, she shouldn’t have been pregnant.”

  “And you didn’t use a condom. On multiple occasions.”

  “Right. But the last night she was in Vegas, she wasn’t with me. My other cousin stepped in and took her to his house. He was into her and she was drunk, so he probably…”

  Carly sighs, hiding her face in her hands. “This just keeps getting worse.”

  “I’m just saying, there’s even a chance Dom could be his. I can’t tell looking at him. We all have brown eyes; our genes run strong so, as you may have noticed, we all bear a resemblance to one another. And then she came home to Mateo, so it’s not impossible the baby is his. It’s just… not only the timeline, but Mia’s reaction made me feel like… maybe not.”

  “That poor woman. You all need to be punched in the dick multiple times.”

  “Mia’s sort of the Morelli family whipping girl,” I admit. “That wasn’t even the first time. I never wanted to get into the details for obvious reason, but the first time Mateo had her… he didn’t ask permission.”

  “I get why you wanted to save her. I understand now. I want to save her and whisk her away to a nice rehabilitation facility with a team of qualified professionals who can educate her on how to be a normal human being. She probably doesn’t remember at this point.”

  It’s not funny since it’s true, but I almost smile anyway. “See? She’s brainwashed. I tried telling you. Everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

  We go quiet again. There’s stuff I’d like to say, but nothing I can say since I know there are cameras in this room. It’s not an issue of if they’re being monitored; they’re definitely being monitored. Anything that’s said in this room will get back to Mateo, if he’s not watching it live.

  The bastard gets to put my son in bed and go to bed with his mother, so I doubt he’s spending his time sitting in front of the security monitors tonight. Someone will be, though. Adrian or Alec, maybe someone else. Who knows? But he would definitely have someone keeping an eye on our every move while we’re here.

  “You seemed to get along tonight,” I remark.

  “I’m not going to be mean to her,” Carly says, levelly. “I only went in nice because you told me she was the jealous type and I figured that was the best way to make her like me, but now I feel badly about the way everyone treats her. I’m not about to be mean to the mother of my boyfriend’s rape baby.”

  I grimace. That’s harsh. I guess it’s accurate, but it’s still harsh. “We don’t know—”

  “I know enough,” she states. “It’s not happening. I’d lose my woman card if I acted like that.”

  “Wouldn’t want you losing your woman card.”

  “I think it’s in jeopardy just because I’m in this house,” she informs me.

  I crack a smile. “Possibly.”

  “I should’ve made her an Easter egg wreath,” Carly says, shaking her head. “An Easter egg wreath could have solved all her problems.”

  “Maybe you should make her a brookie.”

  “Yes,” Carly says, brightening. “A brookie can solve all manner of ills. Good idea.”

  “Francesca can probably hook you up,” I advise.

  Her humor dims a bit. “Yes, Francesca Castellanos. Dying to see her.”

  I turn my head to look at her. “You never slept with Sal, right?”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t. I knew girls who did.”

  I grimace. “Maybe don’t share that.”

  “It was before he met her. Once he got married, he was faithful as far as I know. God, I hate men. I hate knowing things about men. Maybe I am glad I got out of Chicago.”

  “Too many ghosts in this city,” I agree.

  “It is haunted, for sure.” She turns to look at me, eyebrows rising. “He didn’t rape your ex, too, right? Maybe he’s Dom’s dad.”

  I roll my eyes. “No. Sometimes I swear he was attracted to her, though. I don’t know if I’m just paranoid about it, or what.”

  Carly shrugs. “She is stunning.”

  “And sweet. Loving. When she’s not cheating on you, she’s pretty great.”

  Carly grimaces. “Maybe we don’t have to talk about this.”

  “Obviously you’re also great.”

  “I’m not insecure, I just don’t want to remind you why you like the ex you once kidnapped. Now she has your baby, so I don’t want to inspire a double kidnapping.”

  My eyes widen slightly and I lean over to whisper in her ear, “Remember, there are cameras. Don’t say things like that unless you’re trying to get me killed.”

  She wraps an arm around me since I’m over here, tugging me on top of her. “Then remember I hold your life in my hands and keep me happy.”

  “Oh yeah?” I murmur, leaning down to kiss her. “And how should I do that?”

  “Kissing me… just a lot lower.”

  “There are cameras in here,” I remind her.

  She smiles up at me, one of her sultry little smiles that always nail me. “I’m not shy.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Carly

  After Vince leaves to go take care of his father’s burial arrangements, I wander around the house for a little bit. This place is seriously massive. I’m trying to find the library, but no one gave me a tour. They really need to design maps to hand out to visitors.

  Finally, by a stroke of pure luck, I find the room with all the books.

  Mateo glances up from his phone, but remains seated on the fancy couch. “Took you long enough.”

  I laugh shortly, closing the door behind me and stepping inside. “Your house is a labyrinth. You could have mentioned where the library was located; I could’ve met you much faster.”

  “I think I aged three years waiting,” he says, dryly.

  “Yeah, well, I think I’ve aged three years since the plane landed in Chicago yesterday.”

  He finishes whatever he’s doing on his phone, then slides it into his pocket, crosses his arms, and stares at me. “So, how’s he doing?”

  “How do you think he’s doing?” I return, approaching a shelf of books and running my fingers along the spines. “He’s a mess. He’s hurt. He’s scared. Is the baby his?”

  I’m not even sure I expect him to answer, but he surprises me by being forthright. “Biologically, yes.”

  I sigh heavily, rolling out the tension in my shoulde
rs. “You could have prepared me for that. That was an unpleasant surprise.”

  “No, I had to leave a surprise or two on the table. He might’ve suspected something if you were too well prepared.”

  “Yeah, but a rape baby is sort of a big deal. A dealbreaker, some might say.”

  He shrugs, like he couldn’t care less. For all the trouble he’s gone to, you’d think he must care, but he doesn’t seem to as he says, “Then break the deal. You only have to last the rest of this week. I know we discussed a full year, but you’ve done well; I’ll let you out early for good behavior. As soon as Mia’s satisfied that he’s happily moved on, your job is done and you’re free to go. If you leave him as soon as you board the plane back, I’ll still be satisfied.”

  I pause, dropping my hand. “And Vince?”

  “You know what happens to Vince if you walk away,” he says, simply. “It’s not your problem, though. Not mine either. I couldn’t care less. Survive Easter, that’s all I ask.”

  “Demand,” I mutter. “I don’t recall you ever asking for anything.”

  “Well, I’m unlikely to start now then, don’t you think?” He rises, walking in my direction. I automatically drift away, creating distance. This man’s vibe is as unapologetically predatory as it was the first time I met him, and I don’t need a mess like him in my life.

  He smiles slowly, liking how I retreat. I don’t feel like playing games with him, so I stop moving backward and let him box me in. I turn my face, but remain where I am, letting him get as close as he wants to. He should know I’m accustomed to men making me uncomfortable. I made a fucking career out of it. He might have his own intimidating skill set, but he doesn’t have anything I haven’t seen before.

  “How’s Laurel?” he asks, smoothly.

  My stomach twists. It’s like he heard me goading him in my mind.

  Fine, he has the ability to make me intensely uncomfortable. Does he want a fucking trophy?

  “Look, I’m doing exactly what you told me to do,” I say, meeting his gaze. “I’ve done everything you demanded, every single step of the way. I changed my fucking shampoo because you told me to. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to check in on me. We had an agreement and I’m doing my part. Nothing has changed; I’m just… struggling a bit with the baby situation. I really care about Vince, but I’m also… I’m not that woman.”