Coming Home (Morelli Family, #6)

by Sam Mariano

  Adrian moves toward Ben, but the old man flings his arm off as soon as he touches it. He’s visibly vibrating with rage, his enormous pride wounded and raging. “You’re no fucking boss, Mateo. You don’t know the meaning of the word. The whole lot you, this whole generation, nothing but fucking disappointments. You really are your father’s son, aren’t you? Thinking with your dick and chasing some useless piece of pussy around like some fucking providence. This obsession you and my son have with this stupid little whore is fucking sickening.” Spittle flies out of his mouth as he delivers that last bit, nearly shouts it.

  Adrian’s jaw locks and he takes Ben’s arm again. Two more men steps up to escort Ben out, and Ryder walks around to lead Jessica away. She casts an apologetic look back at us over her shoulder.

  My stomach rocks and rolls. Tears well up in my eyes and I’m not even sure why. Mateo is still so tense and angry beside me, I can feel it rolling off of him. I don’t know what else to do, so I just turn to him, wrap my arms around him, and bury my face in his chest. It takes him just a few more seconds, then he wraps me in the shelter of his arms, lightly kissing me on top of the head.

  “That was horrible,” I mutter against his chest.

  “I know,” he murmurs, lowly. “I’m sorry that happened. I wanted tonight to be perfect for you.”

  “It is perfect,” I assure him, gazing up at him. I bring a hand up to caress his strong jawline, affection for him dulling the sting of what just happened. “I’m sorry he brought up…”

  Mateo shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, Mia. I told you that.”

  I nod, comforted by the memory of how wonderful Mateo was when I came home. I wrap my arms around him for a hug, just soaking up his presence for a moment. “What happens now?” I ask.

  “Now we go back to enjoying what’s left of our wedding.”

  I pull back to look up at him. “I meant with your uncle.”

  “He’s no uncle of mine,” Mateo tells me, faintly shaking his head. “No one who has a problem with you gets to call me family. You’re my family. Ben is an archaic waste of my time.”

  “I don’t want to be the reason you fight with your family, Mateo. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

  “You haven’t caused trouble,” Mateo states, calmly running his fingers along the curve of my shoulder. “He did, when he made the decision to support Vince’s actions against me. He can talk all the shit he wants; I have doubled this empire since pushing my father aside. I have efficient people working for me who know better than to fuck up. I have nothing to prove to that man, and I damn sure don’t owe him any respect after Vegas.”

  “Well, I’ve never liked him based solely on what he did to Maria, so I don’t disagree, I just… I’m worried.”

  Running the back of his hand tenderly across my cheek, he says, “Don’t be. You’re safe.”

  “I know, but I need you to be safe.”

  “I’m going to make sure we’re both safe,” he assures me.

  I don’t like the sound of that. His voice is calm, even tender, as he reassures me, but all it translates to in my head is murder. They can’t interact that way with one another, especially so near the rest of their assembled family, and then pretend it never happened, right?

  “Is there any way we can smooth things over?” I ask.

  Mateo shakes his head calmly. “We’re not going to smooth things over. He insulted me, and he insulted my wife—on our wedding day, no less. You are the greatest person I have ever met; no one hurls insults at you in front of me. He’ll pay for that.”

  “I don’t need him to pay for anything, I just don’t want conflict. I mean, it was incredibly rude, yes, but they’re just words.”

  “It’s not about that.” I can tell by the way he says it he’s done with this topic, but I’m still incredibly nervous. “Don’t concern yourself with these sorts of things. I will take care of business and keep myself alive and you safe. That side of my life isn’t your problem. I know you live to protect people,” he says, with a slight roll of his eyes, “but Ben isn’t worth protecting.”

  “It’s not about protecting him. I couldn’t care less about Ben. I just don’t want you to do something rash and set off a chain of events that might be avoided if cooler heads prevailed.”

  Mateo’s eyes dance with amusement as gazes at me like I’m the most ridiculously amusing person on the planet. “I don’t do rash. Trust me, sweetheart. I have this under control.”

  “I’m just saying. Sticks and stones, you know? He’s not even the first person to call me a whore tonight, just the meanest.”

  “What?” Mateo tugs me back, vaguely glaring. “Who else called you a whore?”

  Since I’d rather play than give him a second target, I nuzzle into him, running my lips across his neck. “I can think of a few times you’ve called me a whore.”

  His hand skates up my back until he catches the back of my neck. He anchors me with his grip, slanting his mouth over mine and claiming my lips in a soft yet forceful kiss. I moan softly against his mouth, clinging to his jacket and holding him close.

  “That’s different,” he finally says, his gaze burning into mine, scorching me with his intensity. “You are my wife now, Mia; my partner, now and forever. Anyone who has a problem with my wife has a problem with me. Anyone who calls you a whore in my presence should know it’s the last insult they’ll ever fling. Calling you my little whore isn’t an insult.” Running his hand through my hair, he gathers it in his hand and makes a tight fist, yanking my head back. “You love to be my little whore.”

  I can’t help smiling as his lips move to my neck, love for this man consuming me like a wild fire. “I always have.”

  “And if I have my way, you always will.”

  I thread my fingers through his hair, guiding his mouth to mine. He eagerly accepts my invitation, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and exploring. Every inch of me belongs to this man. There’s no one I would rather spend the rest of my life with.

  Gazing up at him fondly, I point out, “You are a man accustomed to getting what you want, so I’d say there’s a decent chance.”

  “Decent?” he murmurs, trailing kisses down my jawline so he can tenderly assault my neck again. “That’s not good enough.”

  “Yeah, I was just being coy. You’ve got a money-back guarantee right here,” I assure him.

  Grinning, he kisses his way back up my neck. “I like those odds.”

  “I’m your sure thing.”

  His lips brush mine. “I’ve always wanted a sure thing.”

  “I’ve always wanted you.”

  Mateo catches my hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to my knuckles. “I have always been yours.”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Mia

  My long blonde hair clings to the back of my neck as we ascend the stone staircase alongside the deli where we just picked up a few groceries. Various fruits peek out of the Marc Jacobs bag slung over my shoulder, my pretty new Italy sandals on my feet. I’m wearing the breezy summer dress I envisioned wearing with them, but instead of breezy and cute, I feel sticky and gross because it’s so hot today.

  Mateo walks beside me in street clothes—the absolute weirdest part of vacations. Even his street clothes are classy, but seeing him not wearing a suit and tie is still weird, even after all these years.

  As we trek up the narrow stone staircase, I let my hand brush Mateo’s, then I catch it and lace our fingers together.

  “What’s so important?” I ask, nodding at his cell phone.

  Normally he’s off his phone during vacations, but he’s already been on it more today than he usually is over the course of our whole trip. He turns the screen to flash me a picture of three blobs with lines coming out of various shakily drawn circles. “Rosalie drew a picture of us in Italy.”

  I snort, grinning. “She’s the next Picasso, for sure. What’s the third blob?”

  “The sun?” he suggests. Shrugging,
he uses just the one hand to type something back, then slides the phone into his pocket.

  “We should send her a real picture of us in Italy,” I suggest, indicating at the scenic town all around us.

  “You and your damn pictures,” he remarks.

  “Any excuse to record your overall sexiness is a chance I’ll jump on.”

  Smirking, he lets go of my hand and puts his hand on my hip, tugging me close. “I’ll give you something to jump on.”

  I wink at him. “I’m counting on it.”

  The beach was packed today, so we decided just to get some groceries and head back to our room. We’ll have lunch between rounds, then we’ll head out later for a nice dinner.

  Tomorrow begins Mateo’s long-awaited favorite part of this trip—the Amalfi coast, a yacht, and me in a teeny tiny bikini. I’m a little more self-conscious about the last part now that my waist is filling out with my very own baby Morelli, but when I critiqued myself in the mirror last night, Mateo rolled his eyes like I was being ridiculous and proceeded to show me just how sexy he thinks I am in my bikini, even pregnant.

  “Did you ever bring Beth here?”

  Mateo glances over at me. Surprisingly, just like the last couple times, mentioning Beth doesn’t seem to irritate him. He shakes his head. “No. We were going to come once, but she pouted until I agreed to go to Paris again. Fucking Paris.”

  I smile faintly. “I like Paris, but I’m happy to go wherever you want to go. I can’t really complain about a two week honeymoon in Italy, regardless.”

  “Beth could complain about anything,” he says, dryly.

  “She’s a cow and I hate her.”

  Flashing me a grin, he remarks, “She’s not even worth your hatred. She’s ancient history now and I’m glad.” Giving me a little squeeze, he assures me, “I’ve come to the conclusion that in every regard, you blow Beth right out of the water.”

  I feel like he just handed me all the shoes in the world. I beam at him, then wrap my other arm around his chest and hug him while we walk. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

  I can’t see his face, but his tone is dry as hell. “I hope so, given the vigorous tests I put you through in order to arrive at this conclusion. You deserve some kind of payoff.”

  “Eh, what’s a little mental torture between lovers? Some couples have rough patches, we have explosive mind wars.”

  “It’s not much of a war, I just attack you and you love me anyway.”

  I jab him in the abdomen. “I attack you with my love. I’m just so subtle you don’t even know.”

  “You can attack me with your love anytime; I like it.”

  It’s a hot but peaceful walk back to our room. I put our few groceries on the counter and in the fridge, then go over to join Mateo on the bed. He looks tired. The flight over here is long as hell and we’re both a little jetlagged.

  “We should nap,” I tell him. “That way we’re rested for tomorrow.”

  His head falls to the side and he raises his eyebrow like I’ve just said something unimaginably stupid. “If you think there’s even a chance I’m not going to fuck you senseless before we do any kind of sleeping, I don’t even know who you are.”

  I laugh, lying beside him on the bed and curling up beside him. “Well, obviously you have to fuck me senseless first.” Dragging my hand across his chest, I rub his nipple through the fabric.

  He watches my hand, a look of faint contemplation on his face. Then he meets my gaze, flattening his hand on mine to stop its journey across his chest. I smile because he flattened my hand over his heart, though I’m not sure he intended to.

  “I want to give you your wedding present,” he says, suddenly.

  My eyebrows rise in surprise. “My wedding present? I assumed you were my wedding present. I should warn you, I did not get you anything.”

  His other hand snakes around my waist and he pulls me on top of him. Gazing up at me, he states, “As long as he doesn’t fuck things up again, I won’t kill Vince. I know you don’t want me to.”

  I sigh so hard with relief, my body deflates. “Thank you,” I say, resting my head on his chest and hugging him.

  “That’s not the whole present,” he states.

  I pull back to look at him again, since he sounds so serious. “Okay.”

  Mateo watches me as he tucks a fallen chunk of hair behind my Vince. “I know that Vince and Joey were in on the plot to kill me together. I know Vince told you.”

  I can actually feel the color drain from my face. Fear grabs hold of me and drags down my insides. I go to pull back, though I’m not sure where I think I can go.

  Mateo stops me. “No, I’m not…” He trails off, looking mildly frustrated. “I’ve been holding onto ammunition against you and I’m trying not to do that. I’m not trying to scare you. I just wanted you to know, this way there are no more secrets between us. I don’t like you keeping secrets from me. I know you care about people, but you can’t lie to me to protect them. That doesn’t work. If people make you lie to me, that just makes me angrier.” Lacing his fingers together with mine, he states, “You and I always have to come first.”

  Everything about what he just said makes me feel horrible. Not only because I kept this secret for so many years, or because I know he’s right, but because I’m holding onto another secret he doesn’t know about.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him, quietly. “I tried to manage it on my own. I would’ve told you if he had any plans to try anything again.”

  He nods, not making me explain. “I know. Just don’t do it again.”

  I feel like pulling back, retreating. I know I don’t look adequately relieved, but he probably relates my guilt to Vince’s secret. He doesn’t know I have another one. Here he is, giving up his ammunition against me, and here I am, holding onto a secret to protect someone else.

  That’s not right.

  That’s not loyal.

  That’s not good for us.

  I take a deep breath and let it out.

  Mateo regards me with a narrowed, curious look.

  “What if there’s one more?” I ask, a bit timidly.

  “Another secret?” he asks, his brown eyes sharpening with focus.

  It makes me uncomfortable when he gets all predatory in this scenario, so I ease off him and sit up on the bed beside him. My stomach roils with anxiety—my poor baby is going to come out with an ulcer and a healthy fear of secrets, and it won’t even know why.

  Keeping his tone level, he commands, “Tell me.”

  “Please don’t do anything rash,” I plead, before I do. “I know I can’t always be worried about protecting people at any cost, but I really don’t think—I think it was a mistake, a huge, stupid, horrible mistake. She would never do it again—I really believe that. It was a stupid thing to do and she feels terrible. She wishes she could take it back. She hates that she hurt either one of us.”

  His cool eyes narrow. “What did Meg do?”

  That only makes my stomach sink harder. “And she’s Rosalie’s mother, and she’s having your son, and not because of any emotional connection with you or anything, but I think the kids of this family have lost enough mothers. Let’s not go down that road again.”

  “What. Did. She. Do?”

  I ramble faster. “And I know she’s really sorry, and this is in part why I wanted you to give her a loyalty test. I still think you should, but I think that’s sufficient. I know ordinarily it might require further punishment, but I was just thinking, you know, maybe it’s enough this time because she’s really sorry—”

  “Mia,” he snaps.

  “She told Vince I would be at the bakery that day.”

  His face goes completely blank and terrifies the living fuck out of me.

  I inch forward, shakily grabbing his hand, watching his face for some sign of change. “It was the sister wives thing, she couldn’t take it anymore. We were barely sharing by that point. You spent almost every night with me. Vince came when
we were in the Bahamas and Meg saw him. She didn’t think he would hurt me.”

  Yanking his hand out of mine, he lowly utters, “Bullshit.”

  My heart pounds as he rises off the bed and strides across the room, his jaw clenched. I scurry off the bed to follow him. “Mateo, please. I understand you’re angry, I was angry, too, but—”

  Swinging around, he glares. “Did he tell you, or did she?”

  I take a tiny, cautious step back. “She told me. After we found out…” I trail off, not really wanting to remind him of the pregnancy he didn’t want when he’s clearly pissed off.

  His gaze drops to my stomach anyway.

  I want to flee again, but I stand my ground. There’s nowhere to go, anyway. He’s accepted the pregnancy. I remind myself of that. He was disarming himself before this—he’s not going to go back on his acceptance. I guess he could, but he won’t do that. He’s just mad right now, and that’s perfectly understandable.

  Bringing his fiery gaze back to mine, he shakes his head. “She better be glad you waited until we were halfway across the goddamn world to tell me this.”

  It’s the worst feeling in the world when Mateo’s angry at me. This is not how I wanted to start our honeymoon. I should’ve waited. I don’t see how I could have, though. He gave me the perfect opening. How could I repay his openness, his honesty, with secrets and lies?

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my heart in my throat. “I just, I don’t want to keep secrets from you. When she told me that one, things were still really rough between us and you hadn’t made up your mind about my pregnancy. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

  “I want to rip her fucking throat out.”

  He’s still radiating anger, but it hasn’t crossed the line into violence, so I take a tentative step forward. Catching my movement, his gaze slides to me, but it’s narrowed and cold, not warm. My skin crawls, but I move closer anyway. I feel like I’m about to hug a pissed off lion, but I remind myself this is the same man who loved me intensely five minutes ago.