Coming Home (Morelli Family, #6)

by Sam Mariano

  Sighing with regret that fills me with regret, Mateo asks, “Do you mind if I dance with Bella?”

  “Oh, my god, you’re making me dance with Dante?”

  “You can handle him,” he assures me, dropping a kiss on my lips before he goes to save Bella. I can’t even argue with that, so as uncomfortable as it is, I straighten my shoulders and approach my new brother-in-law with my politest smile. I’m so salty about it, though. I’d much rather dance with Adrian if I have to take a cast-off. Even Alec. Not Dante. He doesn’t like me.

  “I guess it’s you and me,” I say, since he appears to be no more excited about this than I am.

  With a deceptively even tone, he remarks, “Well, it seems I am the only man in the family who hasn’t had a turn.”

  I can’t help rearing back a little, but the asshole is already yanking me in for this godforsaken dance. “Wow. Do you make a habit of calling women whores on their wedding day?”

  “Nope. I made an exception for you.” He smiles, pearly whites gleaming. He resembles Mateo enough that it’s vaguely creepy—like what Mateo might have looked like if he’d ever actually wished me harm. A shadow of the darkest moments when I thought he might have.

  “I’ve never seen you smile before,” I state.

  “It doesn’t happen a lot,” he acknowledges.

  “I don’t think I’ve done anything to earn your hatred. Maybe we should start fresh now that we’re family, hm?” I suggest.

  “You lobotomized my brother,” he states.

  I roll my eyes. “That’s insane.”

  “You’re not one of us,” he states. “You may curl up next to him at night, you may call this your home, but you’re not like us and you never will be. It’s foundational with you. I just called you a whore to your face on your wedding day and your response was, ‘hey, we should start fresh.’ Not, ‘Fuck off, Dante.’ Not ‘Yeah? Let me tell Mateo you said that, asshole.’ Your response was ‘Hey, let’s be friends.’”

  “I don’t need Mateo to fight my battles for me,” I tell him. “Where possible, I prefer to disarm people than to fight back. Fighting only leads to more destruction. Peace is how you resolve things.”

  His eyes light up like I just proved his point. “Exactly. We are the attackers, Mia. We are the ones who start the fight. We are the ones who destroy the peace.”

  I glance past Dante and see Mateo keeping an eye on us. I flash him a smile to let him know everything is fine. Glancing back at Dante, I meet his brown eyes and give a light shrug. “So? You think I don’t know that? I’m not a moron.”

  “Good and bad can’t exist together like that. Sooner or later, one has to corrupt the other.”

  Smiling faintly, I meet his gaze. “Good can’t corrupt evil, Dante. That’s not how that works.”

  “Sure, it can,” he says, smoothly.

  “Nope.” I stand firm, shaking my head. “Good heals. Only evil corrupts.”

  His gaze turns calculating as he watches my face. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but it makes me uncomfortable. His hand tightens on my waist and he pulls me closer, startling me. He leans close and asks, “Have I underestimated you?”

  I don’t want to be that close to this particular Morelli, so I try to put the space back between us. “I think people always underestimate me,” I tell him.

  Adrian and Elise are suddenly right next to us, and Adrian shoots Dante a look before asking casually, “Everything okay over here?”

  I shoot Elise a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose you want to switch?”

  Elise shakes her head. “No chance.”

  “We’re fine,” Dante tells Adrian, his hold on me letting up a little. “Just giving the bride my best wishes.”

  “Sure, that sounds right,” Adrian replies dryly. “We’re just gonna dance here and keep you guys company, then. I’m sure you won’t mind.”

  Suddenly we’re approached on our other side and Sal’s voice joins the fray. “What the hell, is there a private party over here? How come we weren’t invited? I’m about to be offended.”

  “For the love of God,” Dante says, rolling his eyes.

  “I don’t think my dear brother is enjoying the party, Sal. Maybe you should cut in,” Francesca suggests.

  Sal lightly smacks himself in the head. “Why didn’t I think of that? See why I married her. Those Morelli smarts.”

  Francesca grins, leaning in and giving him a kiss before breaking away. She winks at me as she grabs Dante’s arm and hauls him to a more remote corner of the dance floor.

  “Bastard just can’t play nice, can he?” Sal remarks, putting a hand around my waist and taking the other one. Glancing at Adrian, who remains right where he is, Sal raises an eyebrow. “I think we got this under control now.”

  “Yeah, too many white knights and only one princess,” Elise states, raising her eyebrows at Adrian.

  He doesn’t look cowed, but he does drift away to his own spot on the dance floor.

  “I couldn’t help noticing none of the knights riding to your rescue were your asshole husband,” Sal points out.

  I grin, meeting the warm gray eyes of my nicer new brother-in-law. “I didn’t marry a white knight; I married the evil king.”

  “That’s for damn sure,” Sal agrees.

  “He would’ve saved me if I needed it,” I tell Sal, to reassure him. “I had things under control. Dante’s just threatened by the sides of me that intrigue Mateo. I’m glad he wasn’t boss back when I met the family. He definitely would’ve killed me. I’m sure he has his own issues that make him the way he is, though.”

  Sal shakes his head. “You’re an odd girl, I’ll tell ya that.”

  I flash him a teasing smile. “I’m not a girl, I’m a woman.”

  “I’m married, not dead; I know you’re a woman.”

  I laugh, glancing back over at Mateo and Bella. I expect him to be more relaxed now that I’m not dancing with Dante, but he’s openly scowling instead. “I think my husband is feeling threatened.”

  “Damn right,” Sal says, puffing up. “I’m an intimidating motherfucker.”

  I wink at Mateo, then turn my attention back to my dance partner. “How’s Mark? I haven’t seen him in forever.”

  “He’s doing good.” Sal nods. “We seem to have cured him of his Head-Up-Ass Syndrome now that he’s not hanging around you anymore.”

  I give him an exaggeratedly unapologetic shrug. “Only the mentally strong can hang with me. Sorry, Mark.”

  “Apparently you melt the brain of any man who isn’t a straight sociopath,” Sal agrees, nodding.

  Speaking of people whose brains I have melted, I ask, “Has anyone heard an update on Vince? For obvious reasons, I haven’t wanted to ask Mateo.”

  His gaze automatically drops to my stomach.

  “Eyes up here, buddy,” I state, darting a glance at Mateo. At least now he’s paying attention to Bella. I know the baby is still in my womb, but let’s not bring it up today.

  “He’s still safely tucked away in Connecticut, last I heard.”

  My eyebrows rise. “Connecticut? Is that where he is?”

  “Goddammit. See, they need to give me better details if they want me to come in on this shit, like ‘hey, don’t tell Mia where Vince lives.’”

  I smile faintly. “It’s not a secret, I just haven’t asked. I try not to bring him up to Mateo at all and he hasn’t been pressing the issue too hard lately, so I’m just avoiding the topic altogether in hopes he’ll forget. Every time it comes up, Mateo’s all, ‘hey, have you changed your mind about the value of Vince’s life? Can I murder him today without hurting you? No? Okay, I’ll ask again later.’”

  Sal’s dark eyebrows rise and he shrugs. “For once, I can’t disagree with the guy. I’d have already killed the little asshole. You’re not even my girl, and he’s made my hit list.”

  “I don’t want Vince to die, he just needs to let go of this idea he has of me and move on with his life. He can’t do that if he
’s dead.”

  Unmoved, Sal replies, “Should’ve thought of that before he hurt you.”

  “Wounded people always hurt those who care about them, Sal. Look at Mateo. If he can find a way through it, surely Vince can.”

  Sal snorts. “Mateo is not an example I’d hold up of someone who has moved past hurting people.”

  I don’t bother arguing, I just let it go. It’s not like Mateo wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he’s certainly more careful than he was when I met him. The night Mateo and I talked in his library, the man was an island. He told me—and I still think he meant it—that he had no one. Adrian hated him; now here he is, best man in his wedding. Francesca wasn’t to be trusted any more than the sister who tried to kill him, and he married her off to his rival. His rival, currently dancing with me at our wedding, is no longer a rival.

  The list could go on, but I don’t require evidence. I know there’s good in Mateo. He doesn’t always know how to harness it like normal people, but he does his personal best and that’s all I’d ever ask of him.

  “I know,” Sal says, apparently misinterpreting my silence. “You love the asshole. I wish you loved healthier people, but I’m glad you’re happy. I hope he doesn’t burn you out.”

  I roll his words around in my head, but ultimately reject them. “I wouldn’t want to love anyone else. Mateo and I are a perfect pair. I’ve never fantasized about Prince Charming, Sal. I like a man with an edge.”

  “There’s edge and then there’s controlling, abusive asshole.”

  I give Sal a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Trust me, Sal. I like when he controls me.” I hold his gaze, then add a little more slyly, “I like it a lot.”

  The last strains of the song have barely finished but Mateo apparently doesn’t like me dancing with Sal; he approaches before we even have a chance to separate.

  “Salvatore,” he acknowledges, nodding. His arm moves around my waist and he tugs me close to his side.

  Sal nods back, then immediately rats himself out. “I told her Vince lives in Connecticut. My bad.”

  My jaw drops open. “Goddammit, Sal.”

  Sal shakes his head. “I don’t fuck around with this guy and secrets. Better just to tell him. I thought she knew. Sorry.”

  Mateo’s grip on my hip tightens at the mere mention of Vince’s name. I lean my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him to give him a sideways hug.

  “Anyway, congratulations and all that shit,” Sal adds, before taking off to find Francesca.

  Despite his firm grip, Mateo appears vaguely amused when he moves in front of me and pulls me close as the next song starts. “You’re trying to keep secrets from me now, huh?”

  “No,” I say, one hand on his shoulder, the other playing with his lapel. I can’t look him in the eye as I say this—I’ve kept more secrets from him than I ever wanted to—so I keep my gaze on his broad chest. God, he is a sexy man. “You look so good in white. Like, I would not have expected you in a white tux today, but you sure pull it off.”

  “Nice try,” he remarks, smirking down at me. “If you have questions about Vince, just ask me; don’t try to pry them out of other people. Especially Sal—he’s not even my man, for Christ’s sake. I would’ve expected you to ask Adrian.”

  “Well, I might have, but Elise gave me a firm no on dancing with Adrian; Sal won by default.”

  “Elise is smarter than I used to believe,” he tells me.

  “She rivals me in possessiveness, and that’s saying something,” I agree. Frowning suddenly, I raise my gaze to his. “Speaking of things that make me get possessive, you never did explain the Gremlin ice cream situation.”

  I watch his face attentively for any signs of shade, but come up empty. “There’s not much to explain. I was obviously struggling with what to do about your pregnancy. I already knew your side of things, so I wanted to be alone. Meg interrupted, as she’s wont to do. She offered to lend a friendly ear and I thought perhaps a new person to bounce thoughts off might be a good idea. I only had you and Adrian, and both of you were on your side of the debate.”

  It vaguely irritates me hearing that. “But Meg was on yours?”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head. “Turned out she was on yours, too. She’s less emotional than you and less judgmental than Adrian, so her points were more reassuring.”

  “Oh.” That relaxes me. Ordinarily I would never expect the worst from Meg to begin with, but after what she told me about selling me down the river to Vince, my confidence in her was a bit shaken.

  “So, that was the ice cream situation. The Gremlin situation is that you’re far too young, and apparently we need to have a movie night and educate you.”

  “I’m game,” I tell him.

  “Adrian liked the movie as a kid; he’ll probably come, too.”

  Feigning disappointment, I say, “Oh, no, not Adrian. I hate him.”

  Mateo rolls his eyes. “I’m sure Elise will tag along.”

  “I need to make her like me.”

  “Probably not flirting with her husband would be a good first step.”

  I smile at how lightly he says it. No part of Mateo is threatened, which makes it that much funnier that he was annoyed by Sal dancing with me. “She doesn’t even know I flirt with him, and she disliked me long before that started anyway. She’s looked at me like I’m a weirdo ever since Meg came around.”

  Rocking his head left, then right in consideration, Mateo says, “Well, you made a point of forcing Elise’s eyes open about me, then turned around and lied to Meg about the same thing. I don’t think she understood your motivations.”

  I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “That’s dumb. If I hadn’t, she may have missed out on Adrian altogether to chase after you.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you, just offering a take on her perspective.”

  I carry on with my scenario. “Then Adrian would be single and lonely.”

  “So, your type,” he says, lightly.

  “And then maybe he would’ve decided to save me from my own personal tormentor.”

  Tugging me a little closer, he says, “You don’t want to pit me against Adrian, trust me.”

  “It’s an alternate reality. Obviously in the real world, I love you both. Anyway, while I’m suffering from your delicious brand of Mateo torment—”

  Before I can detail the rest of my fantasy, Mateo shuts me up in the loveliest way—by catching the back of my head in his big, strong hand and pulling me in for a tender kiss.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Mia

  Mateo and I are making the rounds, chatting up friends and relatives I’ve never met before. My feet are killing me, and we’ve only been doing this for two hours. Mateo wasn’t joking when he said Morelli weddings are long. People have already eaten, but I’m pretty sure they’re going be here long enough to eat again. The open bar has people already getting a little rowdy. I’m tired of talking to people; I just want to dance with, talk to, and kiss my brand new husband.

  That’s still weird. The best kind of weird, but definitely something to get used to. Mateo Morelli, my husband.

  His hand tightens around my waist and he leans in. “What are you smiling about?”

  I grin up at him. “We’re married.”

  He smiles and leans down to give me a kiss. It’s cut short, however, when a semi-familiar face approaches.

  The dark-haired PI with the Superman jaw who tried to warn me off all those years ago glances at our guests, then looks to Mateo, his blue eyes serious. “Can I see you for a minute?”

  Mateo’s tone is instantly business-like. “Everything all right?”

  “There’s a potential situation.” He glances at me, like he doesn’t want to say anymore.

  Mateo nods brusquely and lets his arm fall from around my waist. “You stay here,” Mateo says. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait.” I tag along anyway, casting an apologetic smile back at the guests we were talking to and following after
him. “Is it Vince? Sal said—”

  “I don’t know, Mia. Just…” He looks briefly annoyed with me, but he attempts to garner more patience. “Let me find out and I’ll be back.” Instead of leaving though, he looks around. “Go find Adrian.”

  “Adrian’s with us,” Ethan tells him.

  Mateo is looking over my head, I assume just because he’s thinking what to do with me, but then he lifts his hand and beckons someone over.

  A moment later Rafe strides up in a tan suit, his golden hair curling around his collar, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “You rang?”

  “Watch her,” Mateo says. “I have to go check something out. Don’t let her out of your sight. If anything feels off, take her inside the house.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rafe says easily.

  “Really?” I demand as Mateo turns and walks away with Ethan.

  “I’m the one who should be offended,” Rafe tells me, lightly enough. “He knows I’ve had my hands all over you and he’s still not worried.”

  “He’s obnoxiously sure of himself,” I tell Rafe, sighing as I turn around. “Have you talked to Vince? He’s not here, right? I really don’t want him to get murdered at my wedding.”

  As if I haven’t spoken, Rafe puts a hand at the small of my back and ushers me out onto the dance floor.

  “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be guarding me.”

  “Can’t get much closer than this,” Rafe points out, grabbing me around the waist and taking my much smaller hand in his. “How have you been?”

  He’s exasperating. “I’m fabulous. Stop distracting me and tell me what’s going on.”

  “I have no idea what’s going on,” he states, calmly. “I don’t work for your husband, remember? I’m here as a guest.”

  I smile, melting with pleasure. “My husband. That’s nice.”

  “I have to be honest, once I realized he had two of you, I thought you were bullshitting me with that fiancé thing. But here we are, so I guess not.”

  I don’t know if he’s still making an effort to distract me or if this really is just conversation, but whatever his motivation, this does distract me effectively. After Rafe left, Meg told me they had gone out the night Mateo proposed to me. I made a bigger deal of it than she did, apparently, but since Rafe was gone, I never did get his side of things.