Sinning in Vegas: (Vegas Morellis, #2)

by Sam Mariano

  Even without Sin as a valid alternative, that’s not how I want to live. I’m sure someone would be content with that, someone with less emotional investment. But I don’t want an arrangement, I want a family. I don’t want to raise a baby adjacent to a man I like, each of us leading more or less separate lives; I want to raise a baby with a man I love, a partner who will support me in every area of our life together.

  If I want that, I have to be willing to reciprocate. If I want Sin to always love, support, and be loyal to me, I have to give the same thing back.

  I know I’ll carry the guilt for the rest of my life, but I can’t be responsible for the alternative.

  I have to let this happen.

  40

  Sin

  When Laurel thinks of my job, I bet she thinks it’s exciting. For such a good girl, she certainly has an acceptance of my lifestyle I wouldn’t have expected, a fascination with the violent side of my work.

  This is the part she doesn’t consider. The boring part. It has been boring as hell sitting here in this trendy, cushioned dining chair, all alone in the dark. Waiting. I spend a good deal of my life waiting, and it’s not glamorous. It is boring as all hell.

  All there is, is time. Time to think, time to stew; time to consider the woman you love lying in someone else’s bed, probably with his goddamned arms wrapped around her. At least it’s for the last time, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It certainly doesn’t make it easier that she’s mine now, and she still wants to protect his ass. I know Laurel has a good heart, but it would make me feel a hell of a lot better if she could get behind me killing him. Not because she wants him dead, but because she trusts me to do what needs to be done, even if it sucks.

  The telltale creak of the floorboards draw me out of my stewing and lets me know the excitement is about to begin. They’re out of bed and moving around upstairs.

  I flick a glance out the window—still dark. I don’t expect Gio to linger, since he has to get back home to his wife before she wakes up. Asshole.

  I take my gun out and lay it on the table in case I need to grab it quick. I hear them come down the stairs. Since it’s so early, the house is so silent, I hear the smack of their lips as they kiss goodbye at the door in the other room.

  I can’t stop my head from shaking. I don’t know whether to be more pissed off or disgusted that Gio would fall into Cassandra’s trap after watching her blow through Rafe. Did he really think he could handle a woman Rafe couldn’t manage?

  No matter. I can handle all types of people. Men or women, smart or dumb, cocky or insecure, doesn’t matter. Cassandra has never liked me because she’s never been able to interest me. Whether it’s her ego or her lust for power that is most offended, she has always considered me useless at best, and an obstacle at worst. Cassandra uses her looks and her body to handle men, but when she comes up against one who doesn’t want her, she gets a little bitchy about it. She should stay cool. A smarter woman would just find another way, but she lets her ego have a heavy hand on the wheel. That’s not smart.

  Not that it matters anymore. Now I’m here waiting in her kitchen while it’s still dark outside, and that never means anything good. Maybe the bosses of this family are dumb enough to fall for her bullshit, but they’re also smart enough to hire someone like me who won’t, so I guess it all evens out.

  Someday this family will have a great boss. A steady boss who will earn the respect of his men, use his fucking head, and be a great leader of the Morelli family. I know that, because I’m the one who’s going to raise him. Assuming Laurel has a boy, anyway.

  Fortunately, Cassandra doesn’t head back upstairs now that her pawn has left, she comes to the kitchen like I figured she would. She’s getting older, and all the maintenance she does to herself probably costs a little more effort now than it did a few years ago, so she won’t have time to dawdle in bed.

  The kitchen light flicks on and Cassandra freezes, her blue eyes widening as she spots me sitting at her kitchen table. Her relief is misplaced, but when she realizes it’s me, she offers a thin little smile.

  “Took you long enough. Is Rafe’s little mouse distracting you, too?”

  “No, I just thought Gio’s brain resided in his head and he only used his cock for fun.”

  Smiling like we’re co-conspirators, she meanders over to the kitchen counter. “Your mistake. All men think with their dicks, sweetie.”

  “Not all men.”

  “Fine,” she says, purposely dismissive as she opens a cabinet and grabs a coffee cup. “You’re special, is that what you need to hear?”

  God, she is a pain in the ass.

  Immediately, she turns back with a conciliatory look on her face. “I’m sorry; this isn’t how I wanted to start things off between us. Truly, I’m just so used to us on opposite sides. I’m happy you found out about me and Gio. The sooner we got all that out in the open, the better. He wasn’t ready to tell you yet, thought it might spook you and he needed to reel you in first.”

  I don’t say a goddamn word.

  Turning back to face me and holding up a black coffee mug, she asks, “Would you like me to make you some coffee?”

  I shake my head.

  She shrugs and goes about making some for herself. I watch as she calmly measures out the coffee grounds and dumps them into the filter. “So, why are you in my kitchen, Sin?” Glancing back over her shoulder with a suggestive smile, she asks, “I don’t suppose you’re here to kneel for your new queen?”

  I can’t help smiling at her dumb ass. “You’ll never be my queen, Cassandra.”

  “Oh, come on. Give me a chance. You’ll like working under me—I promise,” she teases.

  She already knows I’m not interested in her toxic vagina, but she can’t seem to stop herself from trying. Just to annoy her, I offer back, “You know Gio already has a queen, right? Even if he takes power, you’re just a side dish, not the main course.”

  “Ugh, his wife? Please. She’s a joyless shrew. I’m getting rid of her.”

  “The same way you tried to get rid of Laurel?” I question.

  Turning sharply, she points her finger at me. “I did not try to get rid of Laurel. I had no intention of killing her, only ridding her of Rafe’s genetic material.” Turning back to the counter, she grabs a knife and begins cutting into an avocado. “Would have been saving the bitch a trip to the clinic, but then you had to interfere. A dark knight with shining handcuffs,” she says, mockingly. Her tone more normal, she says, “A twist on the tale, certainly, but I like it. Wouldn’t have pegged you for the type, but I’m not used to working with men like you.”

  Because men like me are smart enough to stay out of her snake pit, but I don’t bother saying what we both already know.

  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Gio doesn’t like potentially leaving Rafe’s heir alive, but we’ve discussed it, and we both think you’re worth the price. If you want to keep Rafe’s little mouse and play daddy to her baby, go for it. His line should have never taken power before Gio’s anyway, so there will be no issue down the line when my sons take over.”

  Now that’s a fucking horror show, right there. Even if I didn’t despise her, the prospect of working for Cassandra’s sons would not be appealing. She’d rule them just like she plans to rule Gio now.

  “You never loved Rafe, did you?”

  “Love is for suckers and charlatans, Sin,” she informs me. “You choose which side you want to be on, and I’m no sucker.”

  Short-sighted bitch. I’ve always known she thought an awful lot of herself, but right now I’m frankly floored at how honest she’s being with me. Maybe it’s a relief to expel her real self when she’s so used to putting on a show, or maybe she figures I’m more apt to trust her if her cards are on the table, even if they’re nasty, unpleasant cards.

  Problem is, she’s wrong. There’s no trusting someone like Cassandra, because she has no principles. She’s out for herself, and she doesn’t care who gets caught un
der the tires. The same would apply to me, if I got in her way—regardless of whatever value she has assigned to me for now. Cassandra Carmichael will turn on anyone on a dime, and while she thinks she’s flaunting how above it all she is, that’s what she’s cementing in my mind. Hungry dogs may not be loyal, but snakes don’t have any loyalty, period. I won’t work with people like that, and I don’t admire it, even though it’s clear she thinks I should. I’d rather be a dog than a snake any day.

  “I’m surprised you don’t know that by now,” she continues, since I haven’t spoken. “I thought Paula cured you of that sort of romantic bullshit. Four years of solitude and disinterest, now you’re ready to overthrow the man you helped take power for some stupid girl. What’s so special about Rafe’s little mouse, anyway?”

  “You wouldn’t understand, trust me.”

  It’s only a mild curiosity, nothing she’ll lose sleep over, so she shrugs and spreads avocado over some unappetizing crackers. “Well, if you get bored with your teenager and start craving a real woman, Gio isn’t as possessive as Rafe. I would like to be manhandled by you. Sounds like a good time.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Suit yourself. I’m excellent in bed.”

  “You’re not my type. I’m attracted to non-psychopaths.”

  Smiling, she murmurs, “Opposites attract, huh? Okay, I get it. Well, anyway, everything Gio said to you still stands. We haven’t been tricking you, only omitting my involvement. I had a hunch you wouldn’t approve.”

  “When you’re right, you’re right. He has a daughter,” I add, without preamble. “After you kill her mother, you planning to take her place?”

  “I’ll obviously have my own children, but Skylar is just a girl, so I don’t need to kill her off, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s still a baby, there’s really no reason she ever need know I’m not her mother. I’m not anticipating any problems on the domestic side of this takeover; I figured you would have more questions about the business side.”

  If I had any questions about the business side, I certainly wouldn’t be asking her. Her ego still gets in the way so she can’t see the simple truth: I’d never let her be involved. I’d never bow to a snake. She still thinks she’s more fascinating than she is, and she’s so in love with her own vision of herself with all that power, she’s not thinking clearly.

  Power has seduced greater people than her, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Did Rafe see this side of you? You were together for a while; you must have slipped up at least once or twice.”

  “All men with power have blind spots, sweetie, but Morelli men with power turn a blind eye. They never consider that they’re tangling with a woman who might be smarter than they are. I let him have every bit of power in the bedroom, and he didn’t look for what he didn’t want to find.” Smiling, she looks at me serenely. “Maybe that’s why you both like the little mouse. You don’t like tangling with women who are smarter than you.”

  “Laurel is smarter than me,” I inform her. “But you’re not.”

  “No?” As she turns to face me with her avocado cracker in her hand, she asks, “How do you know?”

  My answer comes in the form of a bullet shot straight between her eyes. As special as she thinks she is, her body hits the ground just as fast as every other scumbag I’ve dropped. I adjust the black leather glove on my hand, then push up out of the chair and cross the room.

  As I stand over her, I tell her, “Here are a few things you’d know if you were smarter than me.” I fire another bullet into her head. “One: always double tap; make sure they’re good and dead. Two: never turn your back to your enemy. Three: always know who your enemy is. Four: do not waste your time on villain monologues. You might be pretty fucking proud of yourself and your bullshit plans, but I’m not impressed.”

  I fire a third bullet into her, even though she’s already gone.

  “That one is just for pissing me off.”

  41

  Laurel

  I make Rafe breakfast instead of having Juanita do it. That’s not too far out of the ordinary, so he doesn’t seem to think much of it as he sits at the island, eating his eggs and bacon, periodically grabbing a sliced strawberry as he scrolls through his phone and prepares to start his day, just like he would any other.

  He trusts me, and that makes this so much worse.

  Granted, he doesn’t have many reasons not to. It’s not like I’m the kind of asshole he thinks would participate in a betrayal, even if he thinks I am the kind of asshole who will actively lust after his hired muscle.

  I am that kind of asshole. I’m exactly that level of asshole. I wish I had Sin here now to remind me why I’m letting this awful thing happen, because every time I think I have my shit together and I can do this, something happens and my dumbass heart grabs the reins, telling me nobly there are other ways, this is wholly unnecessary, and if I could just sit both of these men down and appeal to their senses of reason, I could stop this.

  I don’t want to trust Sin to handle it, I want to handle it myself. I know I could get the job done without any blood being spilled, if only these two assholes would cooperate.

  Unfortunately, they are not terribly cooperative assholes. They are both pig-headed and they make life hard. Seeing how quickly I got both of them to the point they were willing to kill one another, I don’t know how they worked together in harmony for so long. I know I’m biased, but Sin is just too fucking alpha to work under Rafe, who has a tendency to be a dickhead.

  Sin is probably right; Chicago would have been a bad idea.

  This is a bad idea too, though.

  My idea is best. We all make nice and live the rest of our lives as friends, all of us alive and there for the baby, all being more or less a family. When I look out the window at Rafe’s giant-ass pool, I envision a future where hot dogs are on the grill, Rafe and Sin are shirtless, drinking together on loungers, and I’m in the pool with the baby lounging in a floatie with a sunhat on, dragging his or her little fingers through the water and giving me a toothless grin.

  I want that.

  We could all be happy with that.

  Goddamn their testosterone.

  Since that vision appeals to me so much, I excuse myself to the bathroom and sneak out my phone, texting Sin to tell him about my vision. I leave out the part where I made them both shirtless, that’s just for me, but I paint the rest of the picture for him. Surely he can see how perfect that would be.

  Apparently not, because he texts back, “For the love of God, Laurel. Enough.”

  I scowl at the screen. “It can work! I know it can.”

  He does not respond.

  My stomach aches when Rafe leaves the house after breakfast, because I don’t know if it will be for the last time. I surprise the hell out of him when I follow him to the foyer like a puppy chasing after its master, then throw my arms around him and hug him forever before I let him leave.

  For the first time, my odd behavior finally seems to trigger his suspicion. As he tugs me back, he regards me carefully. My arms are still around his neck, his hands remain on my waist, and even that is suspicious. Normally I wouldn’t linger like this, because I’d be afraid he might try to kiss me or escalate things. Right now I just want to hug him, keep him close, and keep him from walking out that damn door.

  “Is everything okay, kitten?” he asks, seriously.

  All my insides feel wobbly, but I force myself to nod my head. I can’t summon any words, though. My voice would shake if I tried.

  Keeping his voice reassuring, he ducks his head a little, bringing himself down closer to my height. “You can tell me if something is wrong, Laurel. I won’t be mad.”

  I shake my head, still unable to muster words to accompany the gesture.

  “It’s not too late,” he tells me.

  My blood runs cold. What does that mean? He couldn’t know Sin is coming for him, right? There is no way he could know that. Is there? Goddammit, Sin, this keepi
ng me in the dark bullshit is for the birds.

  Swallowing down all the feelings lodged in my throat, I ask, “What do you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said,” he answers, without really answering anything at all.

  I know he’s giving me a chance to come clean, but I don’t know for what. I don’t want to play these dark, twisted games today. My stomach can’t handle it.

  “I just want everyone to be happy,” I murmur, not meeting his gaze.

  Touching his fingers just beneath my chin, he lifts it so I have to look at him. “Not everyone can win, kitten. That’s not how games work.”

  “I don’t want to play games,” I state, echoing the thoughts I was just having. “I just want to live a happy life with the people I care about.”

  He sighs, his clenched jaw tightening, then he nods. Something like irritation flickers through his gaze, and it makes me worry all over again. Is he irritated because he knows what is coming, and he wanted me to tell him?

  There aren’t really stakes for me in this situation, only the people I love. Even in the absolute worst scenario that could play out, if Rafe does know Sin is coming, if he is ready for him, if Rafe emerges the victor today instead of Sin, I won’t be harmed. Sin will be, but Rafe won’t hurt me. I don’t even think he’ll send me away. I think he would just lock me up in his room and wait for me to settle down. Nothing would really change. He wouldn’t kill me because I’m pregnant, and by the time the baby is here, he would be over it and we would already have a routine. A routine where I’m sad and he’s barely present, but a routine, nonetheless. I would be safe, despite what I let happen. I would be another one of Rafe’s many possessions, like this gigantic house or the pool full of glittering water outside.