by Sam Mariano
I smile sleepily, my head resting a little more heavily against his chest. “Meg will be there so I don’t know if you’ll see it. He moved the dumb maid into his bedroom. He makes bad choices.”
Chuckling lightly, Sal continues to caress my arm. “Yes, on that we can agree.”
I attempt a nod, but my head is too heavy. I tip my head on its side instead, yawning. “He needs Mia. She’s the perfect light, healing counterpart to his destructive darkness.”
“Preparing your wedding toast already?” he asks lightly.
“I like toast,” I murmur, almost unintelligibly.
“What?”
I pry my eyes open, but yawn again. “Oh, crap, I forgot what we were talking about. You said toast.”
Laughing in earnest now, Sal leans down and kisses me. “Go to sleep.”
I drape my arm across his shoulder, resting my face on his chest and closing my eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
---
I rarely volunteer to do drinks in the study, but I do tonight just so I can keep an eye on Mateo and Sal. I expect everything should be okay since Mateo does want peace, but it’s hard to trust when I know how much he hates people keeping secrets from him, and I kept a doozy.
Since he let me have Sal, I’m feeling excessively grateful tonight. Probably also a little because Sal’s mom was so awful yesterday, and I’m desperate for this dinner to go well.
Of course I serve Mateo first, but I also offer up a friendly smile as I hand him his drink.
He’s him, though, so this only makes him watch me like I’m up to something.
I don’t know who is supposed to be next, but I bring Sal a drink since I like him best. I lean in and steal a kiss, too.
“Dosing me, huh?” he teases.
I grin. “Obviously.”
Once I serve everyone, I make my way to Sal’s wing chair and sit on the arm. It’s strange to watch him sitting here, completely at ease chatting with Adrian, when we all know two days ago Adrian put a bullet in his dad’s head. It seems like he should struggle more with it. If my father mattered to me, I certainly couldn’t sit here across from the man I knew killed him, drinking scotch and making small talk. I guess I still don’t see Sal the way I see my family—when he’s cool and detached after what I know he’s experienced, it feels wrong. I know a different side of him, and this one is foreign. I didn’t want him to stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s almost unsettling how seamlessly he fits in with these guys.
He got to meet Alec tonight, but Joey hasn’t shown up yet. Dante won’t be here tonight, but since tomorrow is Dad’s funeral, he’ll be there. I am not looking forward to any part of tomorrow. Even though Dante doesn’t have a say, I know he’ll disapprove of my relationship with Sal. I feel bad for making Sal go with me. I’m tempted to tell him I’ll go to this one alone, since we do have his dad’s funeral coming up, too.
Mia comes to the study unexpectedly—it doesn’t take two people to do drinks, but apparently she’s just in here to tell us dinner is ready a few minutes early tonight. She sounds almost apologetic, since normally we have dinner down to a science, and not everyone has had a chance to finish their drinks.
I frown, getting up off the chair and approaching Mateo. His gaze lingers on Mia in the doorway, but it snaps to me when I remark, “Joey’s really late.”
The chatter behind me comes to an abrupt stop. I glance back, confused, and see everyone staring at me. I look to the doorway where Mia stands. Even she clasps her hands together and looks down, a shade paler.
Mateo clears his throat, then throws back what’s left in his glass. Placing it on his desk with a thud heard all through the suddenly silent room, he meets my gaze. My stomach reads the signs before my brain can get there and it rocks.
“Joey had a hand in the assassination attempt that resulted in Meg’s shooting. He told Castellanos where to find me that night.”
I can’t help frowning in confusion, then denial. My head is shaking, the desire to argue completely useless, but still present. “What? No, he wouldn’t… Why would he…?”
Mateo raises his eyebrows, glancing beyond me at Vince. Then he shrugs, looking at me again. “I couldn’t say.”
“Did you…?”
“He’s dead,” Mateo verifies.
I cover my mouth, but my legs are suddenly weak and I sink into the chair in front of his desk. Mia moves to the side as people start to trickle out, giving me a moment to grasp what they already know.
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, looking up at Mateo. “I don’t understand.”
Now that most of the room has been cleared out, Mia approaches, leaning down to place a supportive hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Francesca. I forgot you didn’t know.”
So much for tonight’s family get-together being better than the one yesterday at Sal’s mom’s. Sal comes to my other side, placing a hand on my other shoulder. It’s completely foreign to have this much emotional support, but it’s hard to enjoy it.
“How did he…?”
“You don’t want the details,” Mateo tells me, faintly shaking his head.
“I just… I don’t…” I don’t even know what to say, I just don’t know how to reconcile this. Joey is a laidback guy, not someone who would plot to have Mateo killed. He doesn’t even have a solid reason to. Sure, Mateo wouldn’t let him move back into the mansion once he got out of jail, but that was mostly a practical decision. He was still on parole, so Mateo wanted him to have his own space and not drag the rest of us into his legal troubles.
That’s not motive to try to take out your own brother.
The only person with motive like that would be Vince. Granted, Vince and Joey are best friends….
Were best friends.
I look back over my shoulder to see if Vince stayed behind with Sal and Mia, but he’s gone. Seeming to understand who I’m looking for, Mia lowers her voice—a pointless gesture since we’re all standing so close together, but she does it anyway. “Vince hasn’t taken it very well. I’m sure he just didn’t want to hear about it again.”
“Joey didn’t hate you,” I say, looking up at Mateo in utter confusion.
“But Vince does,” Mateo says simply.
Mia’s hand trembles slightly on my shoulder. I don’t know the details of all this, but I’m suddenly wary of reviewing them any further in front of Mateo. It’s too dangerous.
Briefly glancing at Mia, Mateo remarks, “I suppose he did it for Vince.”
That still doesn’t check out. Joey isn’t proactive enough to take up somebody else’s quest for vengeance.
Wasn’t.
God, I have to refer to my brother in past tense now.
My heart aches for Joey and for all of us. There shouldn’t be so much death.
“Did he even get a funeral?”
Mateo shakes his head no, but I already knew the answer. In a scenario like the one described, even though it makes no logical sense to me that it even happened, of course he wouldn’t get a funeral.
Something Sal said to me once floats to the front of my consciousness: I would ask if the bastard knows how many people it takes to keep him alive on a day-to-day basis, but he clearly does and that’s why he has you all trained like fucking monkeys.
Shaking my head faintly, I ask, “How many more people have to die to keep you alive, Mateo?”
Mia withdraws her hand from my shoulder, straightening to look at him. Sal’s grip on my shoulder tightens, a protective instinct. Mateo’s eyes are trained on me, and at least in this moment, I get the impression he understands how much he costs us all.
“Hopefully no more,” he says, simply.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Salvatore
Francesca’s pretty out of it after she learns of Joey’s death. I feel kind of bad for not telling her beforehand since I knew, but I didn’t want to be the bearer of that particular bad news.
I guess it worked out, but I
still feel awful. I know she was looking forward to bringing me to their family dinner tonight after the disastrous incident of her meeting my mom. Now she’s going through the motions as we follow everyone else to the dining room. Mateo takes his seat at the head of the table, and Mia pauses by presumably her seat, right between Vince and Mateo. That’s gotta be comfortable. She leans down and murmurs something to Vince before heading to the kitchen.
Francesca takes me over to two chairs on the opposite side of the table. There’s an empty seat on Mateo’s other side, presumably for the woman he’s actually engaged to, and lucky me, looks like I get to sit by her. Which puts me directly across from Vince.
Well, since I get a front seat, maybe I can figure out why he’s still alive, because damned if I can figure it out. Mateo clearly knows he was involved in the attempt on his life, and I don’t know what his play is, so that makes me nervous. There’s no way he lets him live after pulling something like that. He can’t. It would read to Vince as blatant weakness, and that’s not how Mateo runs his shit. Add to that the fact that he clearly has feelings for Vince’s girl, seems like a well-placed bullet would solve a lot of Mateo’s problems.
Then again, that didn’t work out so well for Vince. Doesn’t seem to me there’s much love left between Vince and Mia, but she shouldn’t have any for Mateo either, and she’s alienating her own boyfriend for trying to kill him. Maybe Mateo is waiting to see how that shakes out. If she gets over Vince trying to kill Mateo, stands to reason she’d probably eventually get over Mateo killing Vince.
Women have a tendency to get weird when you want to kill someone they used to love. I would know; every time I try to get all chivalrous and take out some worthless asshole for wronging them, the women in my life have a cow.
There’s a little confusion I don’t immediately understand about who’s going to serve Alec. Apparently Francesca always used to, but now that she has me she shouldn’t? Adrian’s lady winds up saying she’ll just do it and heads to the kitchen before anyone can agree or disagree.
Once Francesca takes her seat to my right, I lean over and ask, “Why weren’t you allowed to give your brother food?”
“Women only serve their own men on Sundays. It’s a respect thing. You’re not a Morelli so it doesn’t matter to you, but it’s tradition.”
That’s dumb, but whatever floats their boats, I guess.
She no more than says that and I sense a surge of tension across the table. I glance over and see Mateo’s hand on Mia’s wrist, apparently to get her attention. Vince clutches his knife and cuts into his salad like it just insulted him.
I hear Mateo murmur to Mia, “My place setting is missing a salad fork. Could you go grab one for me?”
“Of course,” Mia says, immediately pushing her chair back and rising to do his bidding.
Once she’s in the kitchen, the woman to my left remarks casually, “I could’ve grabbed it for you.”
“You’re already sitting.” He gestures with his eyes to her midsection, apparently blaming her wound. How considerate of him, not to make her stand back up. I have to smirk a little as I grab my own fork. Motherfucker’s crafty. He probably had a salad fork and just ditched it under the table when no one was looking.
He also still has his regular fork. I know they go all out for these dinners, but he wouldn’t actually die if he used the same fork twice.
Regardless, Mia comes back and gives him his unnecessary fork, then takes her seat to his left. Vince vibrates with resentment. Unless it’s because Mateo doesn’t want to piss off Mia, I’m no closer to understanding why he’s alive. My money’s on that right now. I would be amused to consider the merciless Mateo Morelli wound that tightly around some girl’s finger, but Francesca has a pretty good hold on me, so I don’t have much room to talk.
Meg is watching me, so I finally look at her. “Can I help you?”
She shakes her head, smiling cheerfully. “Just taking it all in. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, it seems like we have a lot to catch up on.”
I nod, glancing down at her abdomen since that’s where I heard she was shot. “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t have anything to do with it, but, you know.”
She nods. “No sweat. We don’t hold grudges ‘round these parts, apparently.”
“Vengeance is almost always a waste of energy,” Mateo states, off-handedly.
Mia nods her agreement, then cuts a sideways glance at Vince. She’s not doing a terrible job of playing the dutiful girlfriend so far, but she’s not going to win any Academy Awards either. I’m sure Mateo saw through it night one. Someone should tell her she doesn’t have to try so hard; it’s frankly enough that she shows up.
At least Vince’s face betrays nothing. He’s still vaguely sullen, but that just seems to be his overall demeanor. He’s not doing anything to give himself away as someone who breathes vengeance, and he presumably doesn’t think Mateo knows the truth, so that’s good. The whole point of giving up my dad and convincing everyone on my side we wanted peace with Mateo again was so I didn’t have to kill off anyone else she loves. If I did all that shit for nothing, I’ll be pissed.
I add my own nod of agreement, even if I don’t totally agree. In this instance, I sure do. “I’m partial to peace.”
Mia smiles at me across the table. “And warm chocolate chip cookies with vanilla ice cream.”
We ordered dessert at the diner. They had these giant chocolate chip cookies served with ice cream on top. She and Vince got one to share, but defying couple behavior, apparently, Francesca and I each got our own.
“Hey, you don’t understand how much she likes dessert,” I offer, cocking my head toward Francesca.
Pointing her finger between me and Mia, Meg asks, “Are you old friends or something?”
I shake my head, stabbing a grape tomato with my fork. “We had dinner together last night.”
Meg cocks her head, and Mia quickly adds, “All of us, obviously. Him and Francesca, me and Vince.”
“Aww,” Meg croons. “You guys are going on double dates. That’s adorable. Why don’t we ever go on double dates?” she asks Mateo.
“Because nobody likes me,” he remarks, dryly.
“Adrian likes you. Adrian, Elise, it’s decided; we’re going on a double date.”
“Pass,” Adrian says, not even bothering to look up from his plate.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun!”
“It won’t,” he tosses back flatly.
Meg scrunches up her nose, then turns a radiant smile on Mia. “Hey, best friend.”
“Nope.” Mia is already shaking her head.
“But you love me.”
“I do. I’m still not going on a double date with you.”
“Even if it’s fun? Like, more fun than you have ever had in your whole life?”
Mia continues to shake her head. “Never gonna happen.”
Nudging me with her elbow, she says, “All right, kung pao friend, I guess you guys are up. Whaddya say? Two bosses out on the town with their ladies?” She nods, raising her eyebrows enticingly.
Francesca leans forward to tell Meg, “We’re gonna pass as well.”
Mateo smiles as he puts his wine glass back down on the table. “See?”
“You guys are all a bunch of fun-ruiners. Alec, you need to start dating someone and go on a double date with us.”
“Oh, sure, I’ll get right on it,” he says sardonically.
“Hey, you could call Dante and Colette for a double date, I know how much you loved her,” Mia states, grinning.
“Ugh, no thanks.” Shaking her head, she turns to Mateo. “I never thought I’d say this, but you don’t have enough family members.”
Mateo rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness of that statement. “I have way too many. You’ll meet more tomorrow, but none that you can invite on double dates.”
“I don’t know why I’m so eager anyway,” she remarks, reaching for her water. “Last time we tried to g
o out, I got a new, less fun hole shot into my body.”
Mia chokes on her wine and pats her chest a couple of times, flushing.
Francesca was correct; the similarities between Meg and Mia end as soon as Meg’s mouth opens.
We finally finish our salads so the ladies stand to clear our plates and bring out the next round. Mia lingers long enough for Meg to catch up so they can head into the kitchen together, and Francesca waits for them to leave so she doesn’t get sucked in. Elise is the most efficient and brings out dinner for Alec and Adrian, then heads back for her own.
Francesca makes it back out before Meg, so she leans down and wraps her arms around my neck, pressing a kiss against my cheek and murmuring, “Sorry you have to sit by her. It was you or me; I threw you to the wolves.”
Smiling faintly, I glance back at her. “She’s fine. Maybe a little more energetic than I expected, but…”
“She’s annoying.”
Mateo pipes in, even though Meg isn’t back yet, with a mild, “Be nice.”
Francesca rolls her eyes, but stands to go back to her seat. Meg and Mia come through the doors and Meg flashes Francesca a smile, but instead of moving, Francesca remains behind me for some reason. I twist to look up at her and see her eyes wide and glued to Meg’s left hand.
Aw, fuck.
I knew they were engaged, but no one told Francesca. I damn sure wasn’t going to.
Since Meg can’t sit down with Francesca in the way, she puts down the plates she carried in for herself and Mateo, then waits patiently for Francesca to move.
“What’s that?” Francesca finally asks, not budging an inch.
I glance at Mateo and see him sigh inaudibly, reaching for his wine glass.
“Oh, right, you weren’t here.” Now Meg holds her hand out for Francesca to get a better look. She grins, either oblivious or indifferent to Francesca’s dull horror. “We got engaged!”
“Why?” Francesca replies instantaneously. I don’t think she even meant to, it just spilled right out of her.
Meg snorts, but remains light-hearted. “What do you mean, why? We’re in love, obviously. Oh, and pregnant! Totally unrelated to the engagement, though.”
