Coming Home (Morelli Family, #6)

by Sam Mariano

  My blood runs cold hearing that from someone who isn’t Vince. I know literally nothing about the Vegas Morellis. All I’ve ever known about them was that Vince’s dad lived down here, that he moved here after Vince’s mom died and Vince stayed behind in Chicago. I assumed Mateo had power throughout his family, given his position at home, but what if that’s wrong? What if, like this Rafe guy says, Mateo doesn’t have power here? What if coming here to save me is dangerous for him?

  Rafe makes it back over to Vince’s house and takes me inside, but after a walk-through, he doesn’t find anyone to return me to. There’s no one home but me.

  “Wasn’t very smart of him to leave you unattended,” Rafe remarks, taking a seat at the kitchen island and tucking his gun away in his jacket. “I’ll just wait here with you for someone to get home—you know, in case the burglar comes back.”

  I roll my eyes. We both know there was no burglar.

  “Why don’t you make me some breakfast,” he says, kicking back and lacing his hands together behind his head.

  I give him a skeptical scowl. “Seriously?”

  “Do I look like a man who jokes about his protein intake?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. His comment compels me to look over his torso, and while it’s all dressed up in a sharp white dress shirt, it’s not hard to see the outline of muscle underneath. “Eggs, scrambled. Chop chop.”

  I can’t help laughing, but not with humor, I’m just completely fucking flummoxed.

  I also turn around and go to the fridge, finding the eggs and plopping them down on the counter.

  “Got any bacon in there? Make me some bacon, too.”

  I roll my eyes as hard as I can, but I also turn back to the fridge and look for bacon.

  As I’m preparing this strange man’s eggs we don’t really talk, but his presence is strangely comforting. He pulls his phone out and scrolls through it, reminding me of Mateo in the morning when he reads his paper and drinks his coffee. My heart squeezes painfully. I miss him so much. I don’t want to meet new Morellis; I just want mine. I don’t want to have to learn scary new hierarchies, and I definitely don’t want to consider Vince’s actions potentially putting Mateo in danger. I would die if anything ever happened to him, especially if it was because of me.

  My stomach is sick just thinking about all this. Suddenly I’m overcome with the desire to remove the threat, to make this Rafe guy like Mateo. I don’t even know how much influence he has here, but he feels like someone who carries a lot influence. I’ve known him for all of ten minutes, all he’s done is circumvent my escape attempt, and I just made him breakfast.

  “He isn’t so bad, you know,” I tell him, as I spin around to slide his plate across the island.

  His brown eyes move to mine curiously, like he hasn’t the faintest idea what I’m talking about. “Who?”

  “Mateo. I don’t know when you last interacted with him, but it sounds like it was before Beth.”

  He shakes his head, grabbing the fork and digging into his food. “Nah, I met Beth. Game-playing little cunt. Not surprised he killed her.”

  “Jesus Christ, you have a mouth on you.”

  He flashes me a slow grin and winks, then takes a bite.

  My tummy fills up with flutters.

  I need to spend absolutely no time with this man once he leaves today.

  “Okay, well… my point is, Mateo is in a committed relationship now and there’s no risk of him fucking anyone else’s girlfriend ever again.”

  Rafe laughs again, then points his finger at me. “You’re funny, little one. You should do stand-up.”

  I am not amused. “He’s been with me for four years,” I state, to give myself credibility.

  “Sounds like your time’s about up then,” he says, like it’s just the natural order of things. “Why don’t you just embrace Vince? He’s more your age. Certainly more devoted. How come you don’t like him?”

  “I don’t not like him. He’s my ex-boyfriend, but we needed to break-up when we did and this shouldn’t have happened. Also, whether you take me seriously or not, I am with Mateo. I adore him and he loves me. This isn’t like Beth or any of the other ones.”

  “Right,” he says, his face making it clear this is mocking-agreement. “You’re the special one. The one that’ll change him. How old are you, little one?”

  “Stop calling me that,” I say, swallowing and spinning back around to mess around at the sink. I don’t have anything to really do over here, but I don’t want to look at Rafe, so I fill the egg pan with water. “I’m 23.”

  “And you’ve been with him four years?” he asks, mildly surprised. “Damn, he must’ve plucked you right out of high school graduation.”

  “He plucked me right out of my relationship with Vince, and we were high school sweethearts,” I say, for lack of better terminology.

  Nodding as he scoops up more of the eggs I made for him, he says, “That must be where the faithless slut part comes in.”

  “Did Vince call me that or are you?” I ask, frowning.

  “Does it matter?”

  I guess it doesn’t. Some horrible Morelli-influenced demon inside compels me to toss back, “Well, I only like being called a slut in the bedroom, so if you could kindly refrain, that’d be great.”

  His mouth falls open at that, and I turn around so he can’t see me smirk. I’m feeling pretty damn proud of myself.

  Take that, asshole.

  Until he finally responds, “I’ll remember that for when I fuck you.”

  I try and fail to bite back a little laugh, but man, he’s got the Morelli charisma. “We’re never going to fuck,” I inform him, even though I’m sure he knows that.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of Vince.”

  “I’m engaged,” I remind him.

  Nodding at my empty finger, he says, “I don’t see a ring.”

  “Vince took it,” I mutter unhappily.

  “Bet it was a big one, huh? Mateo’s pretty showy.”

  “Says the man who lives next door in a mansion,” I toss back.

  “Gotta do something with all that blood money,” he says lightly.

  I lean against the counter, giving in and watching him eat. He may be an asshole, but he’s the kind I like, and being around him makes me feel closer to Mateo. “So, you called him Uncle Ben. How do you factor into the Morelli family tree? You’re not one of Matt’s sons?”

  He shakes his head. “My dad was Alessio. Younger brother of Ben and Matt.”

  “You weren’t at Matt’s funeral,” I point out.

  This makes him smirk. “You think you would’ve remembered me?”

  “Actually, since Mateo was in the room, probably not.”

  I smile as he rolls his eyes. I hoped he’d look more disappointed by my set-down, but I’ll take minor irritation over nothing.

  “So, you’re Mateo’s cousin then.”

  Rafe nods. “And Vince’s cousin.”

  “So many cousins.”

  “The Morelli men like to make babies,” he affirms.

  “How come you work out here and not in Chicago with Mateo?”

  Rafe cocks an eyebrow at me. “Remember a few minutes ago when we talked about how I don’t like Mateo? Try to keep up.”

  “It’s silly to hold a grudge over an old girlfriend that neither of you cares about anymore,” I tell him. “That’s something Vince would do, and you don’t seem at all Vince-like to me.”

  “No?” he asks, with measured interest. “How do I seem to you?”

  “You seem smart. And as a smart man, you should see an opportunity here. If you were to help Mateo out and let him know where I was, or even help return me to him without him ever having to come here? He would definitely reward you for it.”

  Rafe grins. “Oh, would he?”

  I nod with confidence. “He has a lot of money and a lot of power. And Chicago is way better than Vegas. If helping him out caused problems for you here, he’d undoubtedly
let you come work for him—whatever you do here, I bet it’s way better in Chicago. And we have these awesome Sunday night dinners; you could come anytime. We make really good food, we wear pretty dresses, and the men have drinks in Mateo’s study. It’s basically the fifties once a week.”

  “There are a few problems with that plan,” he tells me. “The largest being that Mateo has nothing I need.”

  “Maybe you haven’t seen the full inventory. Mateo has a lot.”

  He smiles, his eyes wandering over my body again, but slowly this time, so I can watch.

  Suddenly uneasy, I straighten. I’m definitely skirting a line here, and given my experience with the Morelli men of my acquaintance, I should watch my step. When his gaze meets mine again, there’s a little more calculation in their depths, reminding me again of Mateo. I assume that’s why my stomach hollows out like an elevator shaft whose car just plummeted to the ground.

  “What if there was a way I’d be willing to help you?” he asks.

  My eyes widen. “Really?”

  He nods slowly. “Maybe.”

  I lean back over the counter again, closer to him, eyes still wide. “Tell me. I can get you virtually anything once I’m home.”

  And that’s how Vince finds us when he walks in.

  He scowls as his gaze jumps from me leaning over the counter, to Rafe. “What the fuck is going on in here?”

  I push up off the island, unconsciously putting space between myself and Rafe.

  Rafe requires no recovery; he just takes a bite of bacon and leans back in his chair. “I found something that belongs to you, little cousin. Wandered right into my yard.”

  The look Vince slides my way tells me he is not impressed. I go for sheepish and shrug.

  “You tried to escape? Seriously?”

  “I would’ve done us all a favor if I succeeded,” I tell him.

  Rafe hops off the chair now that Vince is here. He’s finished all but his last slice of bacon, so he grabs it to take with him. “Adequate breakfast; thank you, Mia.” Then glancing at Vince, he tells him, “I wouldn’t leave this one unattended. If you need to go somewhere and Uncle Ben’s not here, call me over; I’ll babysit.”

  Vince sighs, pushing a hand through his dark hair. “Thanks for bringing her back.”

  “Anytime.” Then he turns and leaves without another word.

  Chapter Twelve

  Vince

  This pisses me off.

  Mia was asleep when I left, so I didn’t think I had anything to worry about. Also she’s Mia, so I didn’t think I had anything to worry about. What if she would’ve done something like that and wound up at a different house?

  I stalk over to the counter and yank open a drawer, pulling out the scissors.

  Mia takes a step back, looking a little nervous. “What are you doing?”

  Instead of answering, I grab her by the shirt and bring the scissors toward her chest. She tries to pull back, eyes wide with horror, but then she stills, not wanting to get stabbed.

  “What the fuck, Vince?” she yells, as I cut the shirt right off her body.

  “We’ll see if you go running around the neighborhood without any clothes on,” I tell her.

  “Vince,” she whines, clearly distressed as I take the remnants of the shirt off her, balling it up and tossing it in the trash can. “Goddammit,” she says, glaring at me.

  “Thanks for making me breakfast, by the way,” I add, glaring right back.

  “You weren’t home. And also, make your own fucking breakfast, asshole.”

  Now she turns and stomps away, back toward our bedroom.

  ---

  It’s not a good day.

  Nothing is going quite the way I wanted it to.

  I almost bought Mia some clothes today, too. She made me feel bad yesterday, asking if I brought her here just to humiliate her. I didn’t. When she curled up beside me with the same shirt and jeans on because she didn’t want to change into any of the things I bought her, I thought maybe I was being too mean.

  While I was out this morning, I had an idea. Maybe I could take her out tonight—somewhere low-key, off the radar. Afterward I could take her shopping and let her pick out a few outfits. Give her a nice night out, get her some actual clothes—just a little taste of how things can eventually be.

  Then I come home to find she actually went and tried to fucking run away. It didn’t even occur to me she would try a thing like that. She never tried shit like that before.

  I guess this is different.

  It still pisses me off.

  Then I walk in to see she’s socializing with and apparently cooking for Rafe—just the sort of asshole I need to keep Mia away from.

  By the time evening rolls around, I’m calm again. I haven’t seen much of her today. I’ve kept an eye on her, made sure she didn’t try to run again, but mostly I’ve left her alone.

  Now it’s time for her to get her sulky little ass in here and make dinner.

  She’s out on the balcony attached to our bedroom, looking out at the expanse of land behind our house, toward Rafe’s property. It startles her when I open the door and step outside with her.

  “It’s time to make dinner,” I tell her.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’re making dinner.”

  “Am I a maid now?” she asks, a bit acerbically.

  “We don’t have a maid. There’s a cleaning lady who comes a few times a week—she speaks no English, so don’t even think about it—but we’re on our own for meals. That’ll be your job for now.”

  “Can I have my ring back?” she asks again.

  “No.” I look over her, at the outfit she attempted. Since I took her shirt but not her jeans, she’s still wearing those. The little coral thing I bought her is serving as a shirt, though it’s not covering much. It’s super low cut since it’s lingerie, and there are nude panels so I can see swatches of her abdomen, sides, and back as she moves. My arousal stirs, and suddenly I can’t remember why I’ve been annoyed with her all day.

  “This doesn’t have to be all bad, you know,” I tell her, since right now I’d really like for things to be nice.

  “You’re keeping me against my will, Vince.” She doesn’t sound irritable when she says this, just kind of sad. That’s so much worse. I’d rather be annoyed at her every day of my life than make her legitimately sad.

  “You can make a life here, just like you made one there,” I point out. “That wasn’t the life you wanted either, remember? That wasn’t your plan. But it happened and you made the best of it. That’s what you do, that’s your thing.”

  “But I don’t want to have to do that here. I already have a great thing that works and makes us all happy, Vince. I’m part of a family. I have a step-daughter. Bella and I—we have a relationship now, and I was supposed to go to her school today and handle some little jerk who’s being mean to her because of who her dad is, and now she just thinks I didn’t show up for her. Literally Friday night she sat on my bed with me and Mateo and demanded he marry me so he didn’t make me leave, like Beth left. I promised her that I would never leave, that I would be around forever. And then you showed up at the bakery, and now what’s it going to look like to her? It’s going to look like I left. It’s going to look like I pulled a Beth.”

  “Beth didn’t leave,” I remind her, quietly.

  “As far she knows, Beth left. That’s her reality. And now, two nights after telling Mateo she wanted him to marry me so I didn’t leave too, that poor little girl takes a hit again. This is bullshit. Bullshit. I had peace, I had normalcy, I had love and a beautiful fucking family, and you took it from me. I don’t want to start over; I want my life back.”

  “You’ve been getting what you wanted for the last four years,” I tell her. “Maybe you don’t get what you want this time.”

  “That’s what you really want, Vince?” she demands, her blue eyes narrowed. “A woman who doesn’t want you?”

  �
�Don’t give me that shit, Mia. You and I both know I can get a response out of you. When I kissed you at the hotel, you almost kissed me back.”

  “Do you hear yourself?” she asks, eyebrows climbing her forehead. “I almost kissed you back. I didn’t even kiss you back, just almost.”

  “I know you’re afraid to betray Mateo,” I state.

  Her blue eyes dim a little at that, and she settles back a step. I know I’ve hit that nail on the head.

  “Of course I am,” she admits. “But I also don’t want to.”

  “Like you didn’t want to betray me?”

  Her eyes drop to the ground now. I like seeing her looking guilty. She should look guilty for what she did—what she’s continued to do. That she cheated on me with him multiple fucking times and then left me to ride off into the sunset with that asshole is complete and utter bullshit.

  “You broke my heart, Mia.”

  She does look stricken at that. I didn’t even mean to say it. I’m sure she knows already and it doesn’t feel great to admit, but goddamn, she did.

  “And I’m so sorry for that,” she says softly, no longer with an edge of meanness. “I truly am, Vince. I know I was horrible to you and I honestly I feel awful for hurting you. That was never my intention.”

  “I don’t want you to feel awful for it. I just…” I shake my head, feeling mildly terrified as I tell her, “I just want you to fix it.”

  Her gaze meets mine, and I can’t figure out what’s going on up there, but she’s definitely thinking about something. Finally, still holding my gaze, she says, “But I can’t, Vince. I can’t do that. If I knew how, believe me, I would.”

  “Just be there,” I say simply. I’ve thought it through a million times, and I know exactly how she fixes it. It’s just a matter of guiding her through it, making her want it. “That was all I wanted from you. I was going through one of the worst times of my life and you were supposed to be my person, and you were nowhere. Even when you were right next to me, you weren’t there. I know I give you hell for the cheating, and the cheating sucked, but not being there for me when Joey died, that was what made me think you really didn’t give a single fuck about me.”