Family Ties (Morelli Family, #4)

by Sam Mariano

  Luckily, she comes out, gives me a faint smile, and proceeds to my arms, wrapping hers around my neck and holding me close. This isn’t the time or place to accept her comfort, so I don’t linger long before pulling her to my side so I can stand toe-to-toe with her brother.

  “You’re up,” Adrian announces, nodding for me to go in.

  I let my arm fall from Francesca’s waist and I nod at Mateo as I head into his study. I thought I might actually get a one-on-one, but Francesca doesn’t need guarding, so Adrian follows us in. Of course. Adrian took my gun already, so I don’t know what he thinks my long plan might’ve been. Go through all this with Francesca, turn my back on my own father, all so I could get him alone to, what? Kill Mateo with my eyeballs? Sure, I could fight him, but he trains harder than I do, so he’d probably win. Still, the paranoid motherfucker wants his guard dog in here.

  Doesn’t matter. I just need to get through this so I can take Francesca and get the hell out of here.

  I’ve never been on the inside of Mateo’s home, but the place is a fucking palace. Oversized and unnecessarily opulent—just about what I’d expect from the showy bastard. Lacks warmth, too. Doesn’t feel like a home. No wonder Francesca’s so in love with Ethan’s old house.

  Adrian leads me over to a chair in front of Mateo’s desk. Of course he has me take a seat, but he remains standing over me. I can’t stifle a little smirk as I sink into the seat, cocking my head and looking up at him.

  “We gotta stop meeting like this,” I tell him, lightly.

  Shrugging casually, Mateo says, “I don’t know, with you planting your guys in my fucking businesses, I think it’s pretty generous of me to meet you here. I think an abandoned building with my gun in your mouth would’ve been a lot more appropriate.”

  I grimace with feigned remorse. “Sorry, I’m not into that.”

  Apparently, he’s not in the mood for jokes. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill Mark Giustiniani.”

  Well, that’s a fucking mood killer. “He was only there to protect Francesca, nothing more. I wanted a bodyguard on her and I couldn’t exactly ask your permission, now could I?”

  “Funny, I hear he asked a lot of questions that had absolutely nothing to do with Francesca.”

  Goddamn Mia. Of course he pumped her for information once Mark outed himself.

  “He has a curious nature,” I remark, casually.

  “You also kept him stationed in my bakery even though Francesca was gone. Why?”

  I go quiet, debating how to explain that. I didn’t want Mark to go back after the bakery closed—in fact, I told him not to. But when Meg called and asked him to come back, he asked if Mia was still working there. She said yes, that she’d probably be working even more with Francesca gone. So, the dumbass went back.

  “He developed friendships with the other ladies,” I tell him, as vaguely as I possibly can. “Given my dad didn’t approve of my plans for peace, he wanted to make sure they were safe.”

  “He wanted to make sure they were safe, or he wanted to make sure Mia was safe?”

  He asks evenly, but I know enough to be cautious. “He’s not trying to get with Mia.” That’s not entirely the truth, but it’s close enough. Mark knows better than to actively pursue her.

  “He killed a man on his own side to safely extract her today,” Mateo remarks. “Good friend.”

  “Great friend,” I agree, holding his gaze.

  Mateo nods, still watching me. Then he says, “What happened today was unacceptable. There’s no way your father would’ve gone after Mia if he didn’t get the idea from you. Francesca may look at you through rose-colored glasses, but my vision’s 20-20. You used intel my sister innocently shared with you against me. Don’t ever put her between us that way again. Any of your guys ever so much as looks at Mia the wrong way going forward, I will eradicate every last one of you. Delmonico hasn’t met your little sister, but I’ve seen her picture; I’m sure he’d like her.”

  Every hair on the back of my neck prickles. “Don’t threaten my fucking sister.”

  “Don’t use mine,” he returns, plainly.

  I’m normally much more in control of myself, but I’m tapped the fuck out today. “You weren’t so fucking concerned with protecting her when the last asshole used her to get to you, now were you?”

  Dismissively, because I guess he really wants to fucking piss me off, he says, “That’s not your business.”

  “Bullshit. You’re her brother; it’s your job to protect her. You’re more protective of some fucking girl who’s dating your cousin than your own sister and that is straight bullshit.”

  He’s more even-tempered than I am right now, so he doesn’t jump down my throat. He just watches me get hot under the collar, and stands there wordlessly while I simmer down.

  “Does it seem like I can’t handle my own business, Salvatore?” he asks simply.

  “If the way you handle your business is rewarding useless fucking cocksuckers who hurt your sister, then we definitely don’t do business the same way.”

  “Well, I think that goes without saying,” he replies, simply. “But I didn’t reward a useless fucking cocksucker who hurt my sister. I would’ve disposed of a useless fucking cocksucker who hurt my sister. He’s quite useful, as you well know.”

  “I want him dead,” I state. “You want peace, I want him dead.”

  Mateo’s lips curve up and he cocks his head. “I don’t have to give you anything, Salvatore. I do want peace, but so do you, and more than that, you want my sister. The only way you get her is if there’s peace.” Shrugging his shoulder, he summarizes, “You are not in a position to negotiate.”

  I know he’s right. This is not the way to fucking negotiate, going into a situation where you’ve already shown your position and the other guy knows how much it matters. I still want the fucker dead. “Do you know what he did to her? The details of what he did to her?”

  “She’s my sister,” he states, clearly not wanting the details. “I’ve seen what he’s done to women since, so I can imagine. That’s why I stipulated he stay away from her when I brought him on. Protecting Francesca and hiring Delmonico were not mutually exclusive goals. I handled it my way.”

  I can’t fucking speak when my brain wraps itself around the name he just uttered, in the context he just uttered it. My body responds like there’s an immediate threat in front of me. Adrenaline surges, sweat breaks out on my forehead, my jaw locks so tight in aches, and I can hear my own fucking heartbeat like it’s blasted on a speaker throughout the study. There’s no benefit to punching Mateo Morelli in the face, but I’m having a difficult time remembering that.

  Luca fucking Delmonico is Francesca’s ex.

  That’s somehow worse than anything else my mind has come up with.

  There are dangerous men, like Adrian, who are dangerous because it benefits them. Because it’s part of the job description, how they make money, how they stay alive.

  And then there are sadistic sons of bitches like Luca Delmonico, who just have an unquenchable thirst for human misery. They don’t look at the dirtier sides of our life as a distasteful task that can’t be avoided, but a fucking perk. They’d do the same dirty shit if they didn’t make a dime doing it. They do it because they fucking like it.

  Francesca’s comment about snuff films lodges in my brain, because Luca Delmonico is the kind of man you don’t wonder if he’s killed a few girlfriends in the past, you know he has. Not because he had a reason, not because they even acted up, but just because he liked the feeling of watching the life slowly leave their bodies, knowing he played God in those final moments. His was the last face those poor souls saw—the person they probably appealed to for help, and he probably got off on that, too.

  I swallow, rocking forward and trying to get my fucking shit together, but I’m having a difficult time processing this.

  I’m retroactively scared shitless. Even knowing she survived, I’m desperate right now to turn back time and go fi
nd her to save her from this shit.

  I feel fucking sick.

  “You let your sister…” I stop again, unable to even get the words past my lips.

  Mateo lowers his eyes, suddenly realizing, “Francesca didn’t give you his name.”

  Now I understand why she didn’t.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, scrubbing my face with my hands. I need to go grab her and wrap her in my arms, just to reassure myself that she’s all right.

  Mateo nods, knowing better than even I do what that sick fuck is capable of. “That’s why I wanted him to stay away from her. And of course he has.”

  How does Francesca feel safe? How does she ever feel safe again after a monster like that?

  “Jesus Christ,” I say again.

  “She’s perfectly safe,” he says, unexpectedly trying to reassure me. I guess since I’m losing my shit over here, it makes sense. “He was never legitimately interested in her. Since she was my sister, he had to keep himself on a leash to begin with. Trust me; he didn’t put up a fight to keep her. He’ll never be an issue.”

  “The fact that he continues to draw breath is the issue,” I state, wide-eyed. “Are you fucking serious? He’s a monster, and he was with Francesca.”

  “And now he’s not,” Mateo replies. “And now you are. So let’s get back to that.”

  “Would that be good enough if Delmonico had Mia?” I challenge, meeting his gaze. “Would it be enough that he’s just not with her anymore? Would it be acceptable, the emotional damage he inflicted? The fear he instilled in her, making her incapable of intimacy without full-blown panic and anxiety?”

  He straightens to his full height, eyes narrowing on me. I know he doesn’t much appreciate my bringing her up again, but I don’t much care. Fuck this guy if he thinks that’s adequate. He’s threatening Mark for doing not a damn thing to Mia, but he expects me to just accept this non-retaliation for Delmonico wronging Francesca? Fuck that.

  It also occurs to me that given what I know about his treatment of Mia, this is maybe not the best approach to whet his thirst for justice. Mateo is a predator, too. Maybe he doesn’t care because he has the same fucked up appetites. Maybe Mia feels the same fear Francesca’s experienced, and it’s because of him.

  Given he is a logical motherfucker, though, he seems to run through the point I’ve made.

  “I don’t imagine I have to tell you how bad it would be for business if it got out that I let you kill off one of my top-earners,” Mateo finally says.

  “So I make it look like an accident,” I reply, immediately. “I’m not some fucking amateur, you kidding me? No one would ever have to know.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he says, nodding once. “I definitely won’t give him to you for the peace agreement, but I’ll have to get you a wedding present, won’t I?”

  That snags my attention. “Then I have your permission?”

  He nods, pushing off the desk and walking over to his alcohol cart. “I think it’s a good idea, making a permanent, visible alliance like this. You clearly care for my sister; she obviously wants to be with you. When were you thinking?”

  Well, shit, I didn’t have a date in mind. I expected him to give me a harder time than that, but I guess he’s not one to waste his own time. “I don’t know. I haven’t even asked her yet.”

  Smiling faintly, he says, “Do you think there’s much risk of her saying no?”

  “Well, no, but I still have to ask. Not to mention you just got engaged, didn’t you? I’m sure she doesn’t want to steal your thunder.”

  He brings over a tumbler of alcohol, handing it to me and leaning back against his desk, retrieving his from the surface. “My wedding can wait. Yours is more pressing. It should happen soon. Three months?”

  “That certainly is soon,” I murmur, looking down at the glass a little hesitantly before taking a drink.

  “The sooner, the better,” he says. “I’m sure you’re eager to start a life together. We’re all eager to put this ugliness behind us and get back to business as usual. The sooner you two get married, the sooner we have something in writing.”

  “I don’t know if I can manage three months. I have a funeral to plan now…”

  Nodding pensively, he says, “Yes, so do we.”

  “Yeah, so… In light of all that, maybe we wait a little longer. Six months, at least, out of respect.”

  Mateo shakes his head decisively, and I get the impression I don’t actually have a say here. “Three. The old regime is out; the new regime is in charge. We don’t have to follow some bullshit mourning period. They’ll get funerals, and then we move on with our lives.”

  This is why my father hated this man. I don’t know if he rejects the respect owed others deliberately or if there’s something wrong with the way he thinks, but he’s not fucking normal.

  It’s going to piss Ma off something fierce, but I don’t want to argue over ultimately insignificant shit with this bastard. I don’t care when I marry Francesca, only that I do. I’ve already lost my father and a dozen men to this bullshit; I just want it to end.

  “Fine, three months.”

  Now Adrian speaks up. “And we want Ethan.”

  Mateo’s eyebrows rise just long enough that I don’t think he knew that, but after flicking a brief glance at Adrian, he turns his attention back to me.

  “Ethan’s a free agent. You don’t need my blessing.”

  “He said he’s been doing work for you,” Adrian states.

  I shrug. “A few things here and there, but he’s not on contract. He doesn’t like being a bad guy.” Nodding in Mateo’s direction, I add, “He’s also not going to do any kind of work for him, but you’re welcome to make him an offer if you want to.”

  Mateo rolls his eyes. “Won’t work for me, my ass. Why not?”

  “He’s a Boy Scout,” I inform Mateo. “Don’t know why you’d even want him.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you like him,” Mateo says to Adrian, amused now.

  Adrian doesn’t appear to be amused.

  Since I assume this is a conversation for another time, Mateo pulls his attention from Adrian and looks back at me. Without a word, I can tell he wants me to stand now, that he’s ready to dismiss me. Damned if I don’t rise, like I’m following this bastard’s wordless command.

  I glance down at the alcohol, recalling what I said to Francesca about him dosing them to make them obey him. I was only joking, but now I crack a faint smile, putting the barely-touched glass down on his desk.

  Now that this is wrapping up, I’m just eager to get back to her. I want to take her home.

  Mateo offers his hand, and I grip it firmly, giving it a solid shake. A smile I don’t trust stretches across his face, and he tells me, “Welcome to the family, Salvatore.”

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Francesca

  I’ve never been so happy to miss work, but my first stress-free night at Sal’s house melts away and I get to wake up beside him, no longer anxious we’ll be found out, no longer worried that Mateo might stop in at the bakery.

  I’m allowed to wake up in his arms this morning.

  I’m allowed to stand in his kitchen and help him make breakfast.

  This is mine. I can have this. Mateo gave us his blessing, and Sal will be the authority in his family, so we don’t need anyone else’s.

  Well, aside from his mother’s.

  I’m going to meet her today, and I’m so nervous I can’t stand it. I’ve envisioned going to her house a million times, but not one of those times did I imagine it would be a sympathy visit. I went through my closet looking for just the right black dress—modest and traditional, but still pretty. I found a long-sleeved lace dress that fit the bill, and paired it with low black heels. Then I spent a couple hours cooking and baking when we got back to Sal’s so I’d have food to take over.

  I want to make a good first impression so badly, but the day after losing her husband, I can’t even imagine how she’s feel
ing. I don’t even want to. I’ve just managed to get Sal; I never want to consider losing him.

  Sal makes his way into the kitchen and finds me fiddling with the foil on the casserole I made last night. Since I have no idea what his mom likes, I had to ask him for input. He wasn’t a lot of help. After holding it together and keeping up appearances for my family right on the heels of Antonio’s death, he ran out of steam once we were alone. We didn’t really talk about it. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted quiet and to be with me, so that’s what I gave him.

  Now he comes up behind me, catching my hand and kissing it before winding his arms around my waist from behind. “You know, I don’t think Garfield got into the fridge while we slept.”

  “I just want to make sure it looks good,” I tell him, leaning back into him. “I’m nervous.”

  “I know. You don’t have to be. She’s probably buried so deep in her grief right now, she won’t even remember today.”

  I turn in his arms, my mouth turned down in a helpless frown. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “I know,” he says, with a nod that tells me he doesn’t want to dwell on it. “Nothing could be done about it. Don’t think about it.”

  “I just feel so awful. I never wanted to cost you so much.”

  Reaching out and running a thumb over my lower lip, Sal tells me, “You’re worth any price.”

  He makes my heart so full. This is going to be a sad day and a stressful week, but I know we’ll push through it and have plenty of better days.

  Today I’m meeting his grieving mother.

  Tomorrow Sal is coming to with me to our first Sunday night dinner as a couple.

  Monday is my father’s funeral.

  At some point we’ll have to go to his father’s funeral.

  So, yeah. Not a fun week.

  When we pull up outside Sal’s family seat, we both sit in the car for a couple minutes, trying to convince ourselves to go in. Sal eventually turns the car off and opens his door. The sun beating down on the car makes it hot immediately, so I get out, too. I grab the casserole dish and Sal grabs the muffins.