by Sam Mariano
“He will. I met with you myself to make sure. Plus, this is only the interview. You’ll get some training before I throw you out in the field. I’ll give you surefire advice for catching his attention. Your job-related skills will go the rest of the way. It’s a good plan. It’ll work.”
“My answer is still thank you, but no,” I tell him, rising. The longer I sit here and listen to his pitch, the angrier he’ll be that I’ve wasted his time. “If you want a refund for tonight’s fee, I can put in a request at the agency. I only get a portion, so it’s up to them whether or not they give you a full refund, but given who you are—”
A smile flits across his face and he stands. He approaches me, using his full height to intimidate me. I swallow, but keep my shoulders back and my head up. “They never seem to pick the easy way, do they?”
I open my mouth to apologize again but he is already turning around.
“Call Alec.”
The man by the door nods his head and gets his phone back out.
Mateo turns back to me, his tone lightly regretful. “See, I thought we could do this the easy way. I leave knowing several of my loose ends are about to be tied up, you leave knowing you don’t have to suck an array of random dicks for money, and your sister returns home safely at the end of the night, thinking she had a nice date with a charming man. It could’ve been a good day for everyone.”
My blood runs cold at the mention of my sister. He shouldn’t even know I have a sister. He definitely shouldn’t know my sister went out with a charming man. The muscles in my legs seem to melt. I’m still standing, but it’s a balancing act. A gentle breeze could knock me over.
“Wait…”
He does not wait.
“Got him,” the scarred man says, with a phone to his ear.
“Tell him to get rid of her. Her sister isn’t cooperating.”
“Permanently?”
“Of course.”
I launch up off the chair, looking between them. “Wait! What—Slow down.”
Mateo meets my gaze coldly. “I don’t wait and I don’t slow down. Would you like the job?”
“I… I…can’t.”
Mateo nods once at the other man.
“The date’s over,” the man says, into the phone. “You won’t be seeing her again.”
Is that code? Oh, my God, are they putting a hit on my sister?
“Wait.” I lurch forward and grab Mateo’s arm.
He shakes me right off, scowling at me like he doesn’t appreciate being touched. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Enjoy the high ground. I’m sorry it cost your sister’s life.”
My chest feels like it’s caving in. “No, wait. Please. Please.”
He doesn’t stop walking. My cries don’t stir his sympathy. I don’t think he possesses any.
“I’ll do it!” I cry desperately.
Mateo pauses, his back still to me.
“I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just please don’t hurt my sister. Please.”
Adrian looks to Mateo for direction. Mateo deliberates, keeping all of us hanging here in suspense. I can’t breathe. I think I’m going to pass out. I try to take steady breaths, but I can’t. Tears well up in my eyes.
Finally, Mateo glances back at me over his shoulder. “Good choice, Madison.” Approaching the door, he says, “Tell Alec to take Laurel home. Safely.”
I brace a hand on my chest, relief pouring through me.
I expect him to stick around, but he continues to head for the door. “Where are you going?” I call out, confused.
“Home,” he says, simply.
Mateo leaves the room, like wrecking my life is just an item on his to-do list and he doesn’t want to be late for dinner. I stare at the scarred man, eyes wide, chest heaving. They just turned my life inside out and they’re so fucking casual about it.
“We’ll be in touch,” he tells me, before turning and following Mateo Morelli out the door.
This deleted scene takes place after Last Words.
The Nutcracker
Mateo
“Explain to me why I’m doing this again.”
Francesca stands beside Sal, running a hand down his chest as she watches Adrian and Elise walk sideways down the row to find our seats. The auditorium is lit up and alive with pre-show chatter.
I notice a cheap bracelet hanging from my sister’s slim wrist as she runs her hand down Sal’s chest, her brown eyes sparkling with sly amusement. “The membership to your badass club was up for renewal. You had to prove yourself.”
Sal shakes his head, watching as I put a hand on Mia’s hip to usher her in front of me. She slides in first so she can sit by Adrian and Elise. “I think I should’ve let my membership lapse.”
“You bite your tongue,” Francesca says.
“This is the kind of crap you do to get the girl,” Sal goes on. “I already have the girl.”
“Soon you’ll have two,” Francesca replies, glowing as she rubs her tummy.
He smiles too, leaning in to give her a kiss. “I guess taking my girls to the ballet won’t kill me.”
I barely manage not to roll my eyes. Giving my head a shake, I make my way down the row to sit by my lovely wife. She is not similarly unimpressed by Sal and Francesca nuzzling noses with his hand on her swollen abdomen. As soon as I sit down, she leans her chin on my shoulder and murmurs, “They’re so cute.”
“Adorable,” I answer, dryly.
“He’s so excited to be a dad,” she continues. “Doesn’t it make you want another baby?”
Faint alarm grabs hold of me, but I keep my expression neutral. “We already have a baby. We have lots of babies.”
“We should have one more,” she tells me. “I want another girl. In fact, I’m pretty sure you promised me another girl.”
“Did I?”
She nods, flashing me her big blue eyes. “Yep.”
I squint my eyes in thought. “I don’t remember that.”
“No?” she asks, deceptively innocent. “I do. I believe I was sharing you and unable to have a baby of my own for some reason…”
I pull a face like I’m deep in thought. “Nope, none of this is ringing any bells. I don’t think any of that happened. Maybe you imagined it.”
“Then how do you explain the existence of Rosalie and Roman?” she inquires.
“Immaculate conception. I willed them into existence with my mind.”
Mia gives me a playful glare and pokes me, then settles her head back on my shoulder and wraps her arm around mine, hugging it. “You have to put one more baby in me. If that one is another boy, then I’ll give up. But I want to try one more time.”
“Why don’t we wait until the newest baby actually sleeps through the night before we start talking about this?” I suggest.
Mia sighs. “I miss him already. I’m glad we’re going out with everybody and I’m so excited to see the ballet, but I feel like Tristan is at home missing me. He’s too young. We shouldn’t have left him.”
“He’s perfectly capable of surviving without you for a few hours while I take you out.”
Francesca drops into her seat beside me, then leans forward to look down the row. “How are you holding up down there, Adrian?”
Adrian shoots her a dry stare. “How do you think I’m holding up?”
Elise leans forward to grin. “He’s happier than he’s ever been in his life. He’s never looked forward to anything more than this.”
Adrian points at her without looking away and nods. “Sure, what she said.”
Francesca grins and fishes her program out of her purse. “It’s going to be so good. Sal and I haven’t been to the ballet in years.”
“I would almost rather die than sit through another one,” he volunteers.
“We might,” I state. “We shouldn’t all be together in a theater like this.”
“But it’s a date night,” Mia states.
“And it would only take one hero nobody asked for to clean
up the city—we’re all right here, like fish in a fucking barrel.”
Adrian raises his eyebrows. “Trust me, the last place anyone is looking for any of us is at the fucking ballet.”
Francesca scowls at both of us. “Good grief, we’re at the ballet. Could you guys watch your mouths?”
“Honestly, you guys,” Sal says, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Have some fucking class.”
Now Francesca turns her head to scowl at him, but he just smiles, wraps an arm around her shoulder, and pulls her in so he can kiss the top of her head.
---
We all survive the ballet. Sal grumbles and moans like it killed him, but it wasn’t that bad. I don’t think Sal is much for the theater, in general. As soon as we make it out through the throng of people, he and Francesca head off toward their car and we head in the opposite direction toward ours.
Mia and Elise are huddled together and walking in front of us. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but there are giggles and covert glances stolen over shoulders that make me think it’s trouble for us.
“What do you think that’s about?” Adrian inquires.
Hands shoved into my pocket, I shrug. “Probably inventing some new way to make us wonder why we ever got married in the first place.”
Now Adrian grins. “You’re so full of shit.”
Of course I am; the only thing I’d ever change about marrying Mia is that I didn’t do it years earlier. If I’d known then what I know now, I would’ve really confused the hell out of Mia when we first met. I’d have dragged her little ass from her mother’s driveway to the courthouse to procure a marriage license.
I smile faintly, imagining her confusion in my made-up alteration of our history. “Mia wants another baby.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Jesus, another one?”
I nod my head. “Still wants a girl.”
Adrian shakes his head. “You guys are crazy. A boy and a girl is enough for me.”
To be fair, if Mia gets pregnant one more time and it is a girl, we’ll only have one boy and one girl—together, that is. “It’s your fault,” I tell him. “Elise is always dolling Candace up and Mia overflows with maternal desire for one of her own.”
“I’m sorry my kids are so cute,” Adrian replies.
“You should be,” I agree. “Now I’m going to have seven.”
“That’s your fault. Should’ve waited until you met the right woman to have kids, then you wouldn’t be halfway to a dozen right now.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t think it would ever happen and I needed an heir. Couldn’t wait around forever on a long shot.”
Adrian appears to have no sympathy. “Then don’t complain that you’re gonna have seven kids. It’s not her fault. She had nothing to do with the creation of four of them.”
“To be fair, I had nothing to do with the creation of two.”
He’s still not remotely sympathetic.
“I was good with six; I just don’t see why we have to go for seven. I think I’m gonna talk her out of it.”
“Don’t you dare,” Adrian says, giving me a glare that takes me back a few years. “That woman has gone to hell and back for you, you bastard. If she wants twenty kids, you give ‘em to her.”
I don’t bother arguing—I know he’s right that I owe Mia more than I can ever repay, it’s just that she’s a terrible debt collector, and it’s in my nature to take advantage.
---
“Is my handsome man hungry?”
I quirk an eyebrow and look over at my wife, knees up, baby propped on her thighs, talking in that silly voice that women frequently use to address babies. Personally, I think that’s why they know to listen to me. I don’t do that shit. Newborn or thirty-years-old, you get the same tone. None of this cutesy bullshit.
My dark-haired spawn does not seem to agree with me. He grins big and looks at her with unabashed delight, like she’s the single greatest human in his world.
At least on that I agree with the little guy.
Mia drops the side of her robe to uncover one of her beautiful breasts, but it’s not for me. I side-eye my son for stealing all of my attention, but he’s gazing up at her and paying no attention to me whatsoever. Mia chatters about some benefit she’s helping organize while he eats. I’m sure she doesn’t even think I’m listening as she prattles on, but I am. I can’t help tweaking things I would do differently in my head, but I don’t say so. It’s her thing, so she can do it her way. I don’t care about it, anyway. It only matters to me—and consequently gets my money thrown at it—because she does.
When he gets his fill, she burps him and then scoots over and steals the magazine out of my hand, replacing it with a baby.
“I was reading that,” I inform her.
“And now you’re playing with your son,” she replies, sliding a subscription form into the page I was on and closing it.
I shake my head and regard Tristan, nestled in the crook of my arm. “Your mom forgets she’s not the boss from time to time. Do you think I should set her straight?”
Mia smiles, lying on her tummy on the bed and propping herself up on her elbows to watch us. “Does Mommy get a vote?” she asks. “I vote yes, you should totally remind her how to behave.”
I shake my head at her. “Little minx.”
She winks at me, then she scoots forward on her tummy and sighs, curling up against my side and reaching over to hold Tristan’s hand. I wonder if my mother longed to be near me like this when I was a baby. Mia has been an entirely new experience. With Roman, I assumed she was extra loving to make up for Meg being kept from him for a few days, then just because he wasn’t biologically hers and she was overcompensating. Then Dom was born and she loved him so much, it worried me sometimes. Now Tristan is here, our son together, and she’s just as brimming with love as she was both sons before him.
I curl my arm around my adoring wife and tug her close. “I love you.”
She tilts her head back and beams up at me. “I love you, too. Thank you for taking me out tonight. I loved the ballet.”
“I’m glad you had a good time.”
She nods, rubbing Tristan’s tiny hand. “Did you miss Mommy and Daddy? Were you so mad at us for leaving you here to go out and have fun?”
“Or did you not care at all because you just slept the whole time, since that’s what newborns do?” I counter.
She pretends to listen, then nods solemnly. “He’s super mad at us.”
I can’t bite back a little smile. “You and your baby whispering.”
She continues to nod. “He told me if we give him a baby sister to love and protect, he’ll forgive us for going to see The Nutcracker.”
“You’re not even allowed to have sex for two more weeks,” I point out.
“I know that’s the rule, but I feel fine. I looked it up online and some people don’t wait the full six weeks. Some people have Wolverine-grade lady parts that heal faster. Given the level of our sexual activity, I’m thinking I have a super vagina and it’s used to a little abuse.”
“I understand, but I doubt my cock—as impressive as it is—causes quite as much damage as Tristan’s head, even in our most explosive rounds.”
She remains unconvinced. “I’m just saying. I’m game to try if you are.”
“We are not having 3 babies in 3 years.”
“Not with that attitude, we’re not,” she states.
I roll my eyes at my crazy wife. “This is madness. Ju is going to quit.”
“Then I want a baby for my birthday,” she decides. “If you won’t impregnate me for Christmas, you have until the end of March. If we have them all close together, they can all grow up together and be really close. Wouldn’t that be great? Built-in best friends. Even if they get a few rogue Morelli evil genes, none of them will ever be lonely.”
“Yes, because having Roman and Dom close together has worked out so well,” I tell her, dryly.
“Roman is just going through his
terrible twos,” she states.
“After his onerous ones?”
Raising her eyebrows a touch haughtily, she says, “Well, the babies I gave birth to both have awesome dispositions. Maybe someone shouldn’t have been such a snob about my genes and Roman would be a happy camper.”
“He has too much of me in him,” I tell her, shaking my head. “And it’s too soon to know if Tristan will have your disposition or mine.”
Mia leans in so she can give Tristan’s small hand a kiss. “You’re Mommy’s perfect boy, aren’t you?”
He blinks up at me a couple times, then he yawns.
Mia snuggles closer to me, content as a kitten. “He says yes.”
For all her talk about her Wolverine-grade vagina’s magical healing powers and the baby I definitely needed to fuck into her tonight, Mia falls asleep before Tristan does. I can’t move until she’s been sleeping a little longer, so I stay put and look down at my newborn son. He was born a couple weeks early—Tristan Mateo Morelli. I wanted to let the line of Mateos die out with me, but Mia insisted. Perhaps because I let her give Dom Vincent as a middle name, but that didn’t bother me. Being the third Mateo in a line of them, never having had any affection for any of my namesakes, the passing on of a family name doesn’t do anything for me.
I could have done without her blending genes with Vince, but to be honest, I can’t complain about Dom. He’s a good baby, low-maintenance and loving. He puts up with all of Roman’s shit, and Roman has a lot of shit to put up with already. I’ve told him on multiple occasions that Dom is going to grow up and beat his ass, but he already gives me a look like he can go ahead and try it.
I think Roman’s going to be a handful.
“What do you think?” I ask Tristan. “Is your big brother going to be a pain in the ass?”
He’s still holding Mia’s finger in his little hand, but he gazes up at me. He’s a little observer, this one.
“Probably,” I answer myself, since Mia the baby whisperer isn’t awake to translate. “Daddy was a pain in the ass. I know, you can’t believe it, right?”
Tristan makes a little noise as if to contribute and continues to stare up at me.