Coming Home (Morelli Family, #6)

by Sam Mariano

  “You know why Vince’s dad moved to Vegas after Vince’s mom died?”

  “Well, since you’re bringing it up now, I’ll assume it’s because he and your dad didn’t get along.”

  Mateo nods once. “And I don’t have to tell you how well Vince and I got along.”

  “Because you fucked me,” I state. “You guys didn’t hate each other before I happened.”

  “Not that much, but we still never really got along. Think back, Mia. Before I ever met you, when Vince mentioned me—did we seem like buddies?”

  Sighing heavily, I say, “No.”

  “I don’t want to invite that kind of trouble.”

  “I just don’t think it has to be like that. You’re making wild assumptions here. Maybe I’ll have a son and he won’t even want anything to do with any of it.”

  “Yeah, and maybe he’ll be a fucking hothead who wants what my son has.”

  I press my lips together, glaring up at the ceiling. “Well, sure, if you raise him saying things like that, probably. But that would be your fault, not Vince’s. Pit them against each other and of course they’ll grow up feeling like rivals. You don’t need a PH.D in human behavior to figure that one out.”

  “We shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he states. “This is bullshit.”

  “Karmic retribution,” I mutter. “We certainly wronged Vince enough when he was a part of our lives.”

  “I’m sick of karma,” he states, folding his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. “I should be in control here. You’re my fiancée. You’re going to be my wife. You should only be having my babies. That’s not a lot to fucking expect, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t,” I agree. “And I’m sorry, but that’s not how it happened. It’ll never happen again. Every baby we have after this will be one thousand percent yours. It’s not like we can only do this once. You hate condoms; I’m going to get pregnant again eventually.”

  His talkative streak has apparently come to an end, because he doesn’t answer. He keeps staring at the ceiling. I don’t want to fight, so I curl up against him and drape an arm across his torso.

  “I’m so sorry this happened,” I tell him softly. “I know this is among the last things you, personally, want to deal with. And I’m really sorry. But it’s not the end of the world. I love you so much; I want to spend my life with you.”

  He doesn’t even move his arms to wrap one around me, so I clearly have not sufficiently sold this.

  I burrow in closer, dropping kisses along his muscular chest. “And it would be extraordinarily generous of you to let this go for me,” I add.

  His lips quirk at this. “That’s adorable, but don’t try to manipulate me; it won’t work.”

  I flash him a little smile. “Is it manipulating if it’s true? I would be super impressed. Putting aside your differences with Vince and raising this baby as your own? Now, that’s super sexy. Also not murdering Vince while doing that? My panties just disintegrated. It’s crazy.”

  He sighs, but he finally moves his arms, wrapping them around me and gazing down at me with those sexy brown eyes of his. “I hate when you give me boundaries.”

  “I haven’t given you any,” I tell him, even though I sorta have. We can pretend I didn’t. “Think of this is my wish list. Grant them or don’t, it’s obviously your call, I’ll still love you either way, but I would be incredibly appreciative if you did. I’ve been tormented enough for one lifetime. Let’s not do that again.”

  “I don’t want to torment you. I just don’t want you to want to have Vince’s baby. I thought I was clear of this shit four years ago.”

  “I don’t want to have Vince’s baby,” I tell him. “It has nothing to do with Vince. I only wanted to have his baby then because I thought he was dead and I’m sentimental.”

  “I wish I would’ve killed him,” he states.

  “No, you don’t,” I say, resting my head on his chest.

  “I don’t think you comprehend how much I hate him.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t. You won every time you had to fight him.”

  “Apparently not,” he mutters. He misses a couple of beats, then tells me, “I think he and Joey were in on the plan to take me out together. Joey wouldn’t have come up with that on his own. Joey never hated me that much.”

  My stomach sinks. No one has mentioned this in years, and I never thought I would have to hear about it again, to be honest. I have no idea how to respond to this.

  Now he looks at me and I can’t read him. “What do you think?”

  I thought I was beyond this, but I break into a cold sweat. Why is he asking me this? Why now? It’s not possible he knew that I knew, right? There’s no way he kept that up his sleeve for four years, on the off-chance he ever needed leverage over me?

  Well, he probably would do that. But not about this. He would’ve been furious at me, knowing I knew and didn’t tell him. He would’ve seen that as a betrayal—and if Joey isn’t a sufficient example of what he does to people who betray him, Beth sure is.

  “I don’t really think about that,” I tell him, shaking my head. “It was an unpleasant time. It makes my stomach hurt to even think about anyone wanting to hurt you.”

  “But do you think Vince would’ve done it? Do you think he would’ve tried to have me killed?”

  “I don’t know, Mateo. Why do we have to talk about this?”

  He keeps pressing. “Would you have covered for him?”

  “Of course not.” At least this is true. “You know I wouldn’t have. You know if I ever thought there was a chance you were in danger, I would’ve told you.”

  He nods, still watching me. “What did he say to you that night? How did he convince you to stay?”

  I couldn’t be less comfortable with this line of questioning. I don’t know if they’re disconnected questions or he’s got a specific point he’s gearing up to, but knowing him, it’s the latter, and this can’t be leading to anything good.

  I’ve never told him the answer to this, though, and it feels pointless to lie about it now. “He told me if I left him and went back to your house that night, he would burn it down.”

  Mateo nods, but I think he already assumed Vince threatened me so he doesn’t look surprised. “And that seems like someone you should fight me to keep alive? Someone who would make a threat like that, who—after four years—kidnapped you and tried to take you for himself again? That’s the person you want to father your baby?”

  “Of course not. More than anything, I wish you were the baby’s father. But these are the cards we’ve been dealt, Mateo.”

  “You don’t think a baby might bring him back again?” he asks.

  I close my eyes, dread moving through me. “I hope it wouldn’t.”

  “But you know it could. You know we are not safe in a world where Vince is alive and you have his baby. You know eventually you’re going to have to choose one or the other, right?”

  I cock a suspicious eyebrow. “So, if I let you kill Vince, you’ll no longer be worried that my baby’s going to grow up to try to steal your baby’s seat at the table?”

  “Oh, no, I’ll still worry about that. If this happens, I will always have to worry about that.”

  “Have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy?” I ask him.

  “Of course.”

  “Let’s not create one of those.”

  Rolling over, he moves closer to my body and lets his hand creep down between my legs. I open them, reaching for him, running my hands down his sides as he moves on top of me.

  “You’re not wearing panties,” he murmurs, before dropping a few kisses along my jawline.

  “I told you, they disintegrated,” I tease, tangling my fingers in his hair.

  I’m perfectly happy to let this ugly topic go and get lost in him for a little while, but his heart doesn’t seem to be in it. As soon as he makes the move to turn things sexual, he wavers.

  He pulls back to look at me, his eyes
narrowed. I can tell he’s scattered tonight, probably a little from all the bad news about my pregnancy, but mostly because of the alcohol. Mateo doesn’t like to be out of control, so while he drinks plenty, he rarely lets himself get drunk. I’ve only encountered it a few times before, and it’s always a little hard to swallow. He’s all over the place, like his thoughts, usually so carefully organized, processed, and dispensed to the rest of us, are scattered everywhere. My limited experience with Mateo not in control of himself makes me glad he works so hard to stay in control; I’m pretty sure unfiltered he’s a complete disaster.

  “What?” I ask, cautiously.

  “You know I could force my will.”

  This isn’t a threat, merely an observation, but it grates on me all the same. He knows he can force me to do anything he wants through his various channels, his manipulations and tricks, outright threats if he has to. But he doesn’t do it anymore, because he loves and respects me. Because he may play rough, but he never actually wants to break me. Drunk Mateo may not remember that.

  As gently as I can manage, I point out, “And you know there would be a high cost if you did.”

  “How high?”

  My heart thuds. “Too high.”

  He considers it for several seconds, then resumes kissing my neck. “I could fix it.”

  I don’t want to challenge him, but he needs to know where the line is. I let him keep kissing my neck, one hand resting on his back, but my tone is firm. “No, you couldn’t.”

  “You’d still have to marry me.” As if to remind me, he tugs on the death necklace that still hangs around my neck.

  I don’t like this at all. I don’t like the unsubtle reminder that even though I want to be here, I don’t really have a choice. He can ultimately do what he wants to me, he only chooses to cherish me. I wish I had sober Mateo in bed with me right now. “We’ve been down this road before, Mateo. Please don’t take us back. It would be much worse this time, and I don’t want to do it again. Respect my limits.”

  “What about my limits?” he asks. Not strongly, just curiously. “What if this is mine?”

  It feels like my heart turns to sludge and oozes out of my chest cavity. I pull away from him, pushing him off me. “Don’t ask that unless it is.”

  He lets me push him off me, but now his hand snakes around my waist, yanking me back against him. “Don’t pull away from me.”

  “Don’t make me,” I return.

  His hand flattens against my abdomen. It should feel nice, but it makes every muscle within me taut with apprehension.

  His voice is soft, but I detect a hint of menace that I hope to God I’m imagining. “Would you choose Vince’s baby over me, Mia?”

  I rest my hand on his, on top of my tummy. “You would never make me,” I state, firmly. “Now, I’m tired and you’re drunk. Let’s just go to sleep.”

  For a moment, I think he’s going to. Then he moves behind me, rolling me over on my stomach. His hands move to my hips, yanking my ass up and spreading my legs. Pressing his cock against me, he says, “Let’s not.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Mia

  “Hey Mia, hey Mia, hey Mia.”

  I move the little green mermaid medallion, then I look up at Rosalie. Meg and Mateo’s adorable daughter is standing beside me, decked out in a puffy pink dress, holding pieces of her tea set in her little hands.

  “What Rosalie? What Rosalie? What Rosalie?”

  “Would you want some sugar for your tea?”

  I glance over at Westley, his chubby little fingers wrapped around his tea cup as he drinks the pretend beverage with gusto. Then he holds his cup out to Rosalie. She comes over and starts measuring out pretend sugar. “How many sugar do you want?” she asks him. “One, or two, or three?”

  Meg tugs on the puffy skirt of Rosalie’s dress. “Hey, squirt. It’s board game time, not tea party time.”

  Westley scowls at Meg. “Rosie give me tea!”

  Raising her hands in surrender as she eases back, Meg says, “All right, settle down there, little Palmetto.” Glancing my way, she adds, “He’s learning the Morelli sexism already.”

  “Adrian is going to be so mad,” I say, smiling faintly and mussing his big head of flaxen hair. For such a tiny boy, he sure has a big head.

  “Is it our turn yet?” Bella asks.

  It’s very difficult to play a board game with four children, especially when two of them are toddlers. Especially since there are only three mermaid tokens, so we had to partner up. Lily and Bella are obviously partners, so Meg got Rosalie and I got Westley.

  “I wanna do tea party instead,” Rosalie announces.

  Lily sighs, crossing her arms. “Why don’t you take them away and we can just play with Mom.”

  I grab Westley—he’s so freaking tiny for his age. Rosalie is just a little older than him, but he’s a little guy. He’s adorable. “Do you guys wanna come with me? We’ll go for a little walk.”

  “No, I stay,” Westley decides, pushing up and toddling over to Meg.

  “Traitor,” I remark, without heat. Glancing at Rosalie gathering her tea cups, I say, “What about you? Wanna go see if we can find your dad and give him some tea?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she says brightly.

  She gathers up her necessary tea accoutrements and I scoop her up, putting her on my hip. “All right, let’s do this.”

  We find him right where we expected to, in his study. I knew he and Adrian made it home for lunch, so I thought we might luck out. Mateo is at his desk filling out paperwork when we come in. I let Rosalie down so she can run over and jump up into his arms. He catches her, settling her in his lap and watching her put her tea cups down on top of the papers on his desk.

  “What are you ladies up to this afternoon?” he asks.

  “I wanted to bring you tea,” Rosalie states, grabbing the pink cup and handing it to him.

  I grin, leaning a hip against the end of the desk and watching her stir the sugar. Her hair is as dark as his and pulled up into the most adorable messy bun anyone has ever rocked.

  “That was very thoughtful of you,” he remarks, watching her. “I was getting really thirsty.”

  “How many sugar do you want?” she asks him.

  “Two scoops, please.”

  “Mommy said no tea party,” she tells him, her cute little face set into a scowl.

  Mateo’s lips curve upward in amusement. “Looks like you found a workaround.”

  “Of course she did,” I remark, rolling my eyes fondly.

  She makes his pretend tea to his liking and they each drink their fill. Once he has given her enough praise for her excellent tea-making abilities, she loses interest and climbs down. Since she’s in a new room, and a room she’s seldom allowed in, she runs over to climb on the wing chairs.

  I take advantage of his free lap and have a seat myself, wrapping my arm around his neck and leaning in to give him a tender kiss. His hand settles around my waist and he pulls me close, deepening the kiss when I go to pull back.

  His tongue stirs my desire and I reluctantly break away. “Mm, I don’t have anyone with me to babysit, you probably shouldn’t do that.”

  He smirks, his hand creeping toward my thigh.

  I catch it, grinning against his mouth. “Don’t you dare.”

  “I don’t have time anyway,” he says easily, letting me pull back that time. “I’m about to leave as soon as I finish filling these out. I have to go meet Dante.”

  I wrinkle up my nose. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

  “He is fun personified,” he states dryly.

  “Must run in the family,” I tease, lightly jabbing him in the chest.

  He catches my finger and brings it to his lips, but then he glances over to do a Rosalie check.

  “Hi,” she says, standing on the wing chair and waving at us.

  Mateo sighs, dropping my hand. “Kids.”

  I grin, kissing his cheek. “Kids are great. I’m a big fan.”
/>
  His tone couldn’t be any drier. “Yes, I’ve gathered.”

  “Seeing you in daddy mode really does it for me, too. I think you’re going to have a really good night.”

  “Oh, am I?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  I nod. “If you didn’t have to go meet Dr. Doom, I’d dispense of the little tea Nazi and haul you upstairs right now.”

  “I take it you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  Flashing him my sweetest smile, I tell him, “I’m never mad at you.”

  “You were last night,” he points out.

  “You were being difficult.”

  “How new and different for me,” he says, lightly.

  I roll my eyes, leaning in to give him one more kiss before I get off his lap. “All right, munchkin,” I call over to Rosalie. “Let’s go upstairs so Daddy can get back to work.”

  “I wanna stay and help Daddy work.”

  I approach the wing chair, holding my arms out to pick her up. “A very kind offer, but it’s almost nap time.”

  Her brown eyes glisten with annoyance and she wrinkles up her little face at me. “I don’t want a nap.”

  “That makes one of us,” I tell her, lifting her anyway and putting her on my hip. We head back over to gather her tea cups and we each lean in for another kiss from Mateo. She grabs him by the shirt and pulls him in for a group hug. I smile up at him and wink. He rolls his eyes.

  By the time we get back to Meg and the other littles, their game is over. Rosalie runs over to join Westley as he climbs a giant stuffed puppy dog and I take a seat with Meg. Ju has come back from her lunch break, but I don’t have anything pressing to do, so I stay.

  I should have plenty to do, but the wedding planning has come to an abrupt halt. I’ve wanted to talk to Mateo about it (I have no desire to get married while eight months pregnant) but since my pregnancy is such a sore subject for us right now, I’m avoiding it.

  “Hey, can I talk to you?”

  I glance over at Meg. “Of course. What’s up?”

  Grimacing faintly, she nods toward the door. “Actually, I need you to come to the bathroom with me.”

  This makes me frown. It’s not often we need to be out of Mateo’s view, but my curiosity is piqued, so I follow her out.