Last Words (Morelli Family, #7)

by Sam Mariano

  Mateo would obviously hunt him for the rest of his life, but I’m much less confident in who would come out on top if Adrian and Mateo were the ones going up against one another. I have no idea how adept Dante is at planning shit. I’ve never seen Rafe operate. These men aren’t familiar to me, and that’s scary.

  I guess at least if they fail, I’m only dying a few hours sooner than I would anyway—and hey, I’ll be in good company. Rafe, Dante, and me, all wiped out in one fell swoop. Mia wouldn’t even be mad at Mateo, at that point.

  Ugh.

  So much unpleasantness.

  This time tomorrow night, either I’ll be taking a long dirt nap, or a mourning Mia will take up residence in Rafe’s bed as his new pet.

  I hate everything about all of this.

  It’s pretty bad that my post-mob life—serving eggs sunny side up and pouring coffees for $2 tips as a single mom—is starting to look damn good. I hope nothing exciting ever happens to me again. I can be known as the most boring lady in my neighborhood, and no one need ever know about my colorful former life as a mob wife.

  One more horrible day. That’s it. I can survive one more horrible day.

  I have myself pretty adequately distracted until Rafe escorts me to the study. I should be going to the kitchen to help the ladies, but Rafe pushes the door open, putting a hand at the small of my back, and ushers me inside.

  My stomach twists at the familiar sight of Mateo perched at the edge of his desk. Anxiety gathers in my chest until my insides feel so thick, I can scarcely draw a breath. It’s almost overwhelming, this foreign desire to revisit history. To drop to my knees in front of him the way I did the night we first met and beg once more for his mercy.

  Saving my own ass shouldn’t hurt this much.

  I can’t believe I got us into this fucking predicament.

  Stupid Meg. Stupid.

  Mateo’s gaze slides in our direction as we enter. My heart sinks when he meets my gaze. The desire to fold intensifies. Maybe if I pull him aside and tell him now, he’ll forgive me. I did a stupid, horrible, shitty thing, but I want to go back. I want to undo it. I can’t, but I could warn him now. It’s not the first time I’ve wanted to.

  “About time.”

  The deep voice of Dante Morelli distracts me from my thoughts of double-crossing. My gaze jumps to him now as he shakes Rafe’s hand. My whole body heats up. Should they even be talking in front of Mateo? Even a casual hello? Mateo always keeps a careful eye on Dante.

  Alec walks over, smiling faintly, his gaze moving from me to Rafe. “You brought a date. Good call bringing one he’s already fucked. No chance he tries to steal her.”

  I cut Alec a look of annoyance, but he doesn’t respond in kind. He nods at me very slightly, still with a faint smile and a gleam in his eyes.

  In that moment, I know he’s A. He’s telling me. Here we are, all four of us, assembled right under Mateo’s nose. If Dante and Alec are both in on the plan, the only people who need to be removed are Mateo and Adrian. Rafe will step up as Dante’s second, Alec will keep the spot he has now.

  They’re going to pull this off.

  We’re going to pull this off.

  Rafe rolls his eyes, since he’s the only one facing Adrian and Mateo. “Not my choice of dinner date, trust me. Someone had to watch the rat; I drew the short straw.”

  Alec shakes his head and drifts back toward a wing chair. “You’re gonna have to start making my brother pay you. All this charity work is bound to hurt your street cred.”

  “Eh, what happens in Chicago stays in Chicago,” Rafe tosses back.

  The men start to go to their wing chairs. I don’t move to follow. Instead, I point back toward the door. “Should I go help—?”

  Mateo cuts me off with a sharp, “No.”

  I shift my weight, glancing down, then back up. “Okay. So…”

  With the closest thing to a bitter smile I’ve ever seen stretch across Mateo’s handsome face, he sweeps his hand toward the beverage cart. “You might as well go out the way you came in. You can be my maid one last time.”

  “Sure you don’t need someone full-time?” I offer. “I have experience.”

  “Pay’s shit,” he responds.

  “Hey, I’ll work for room and board. Maria seems to dig it.”

  “As much as I would enjoy making you clean my wife’s house, I don’t trust you. Can’t have untrustworthy maids running around.”

  I faintly shake my head, sighing. That he’s trying to hurt me stings. His words themselves don’t. I’m not jealous that he married Mia. I hate that he wants to lash out, though. He’s done everything in his considerable power each time he’s seen me to make me feel as small as possible, and I’ve only ever seen him do that to Vince. I don’t even think he hit it this hard with Vince, and he regularly eye-fucked his girlfriend in front of him, so he did not take it easy on that kid.

  I fix his drink and serve him first. His gaze lingers on mine as he takes the glass. “Good thing you don’t have poison this time, huh?” he murmurs.

  “Who says I don’t?” I ask lightly, winking at him and heading back to the serving cart.

  I pass out drinks to the rest of the guys, but I’m lightly amused to realize Mateo never touches his. It’s obviously very unlikely I could get my hands on poison, and less likely I would tell him if I did, but his paranoia won’t allow him to pour the liquid down his throat and take the chance.

  When drinks are finished, we adjourn to the dining room. Now I’m allowed to go in the kitchen to help the ladies serve.

  Mia looks up as soon as I step foot inside. She looks stricken, like just the sight of me hurts her. Maybe she knows this is the last dinner.

  I wonder how stricken she would look if she knew it was his.

  That thought sours my stomach more than it should, so I break Mia’s gaze and grab salads for myself, Rafe, and Alec. Mia, Colette, and Elise follow behind with the rest of them.

  “No Sal and Francesca tonight, huh?” I ask, smoothing my skirt down as I take a seat. “I figured they’d want to see me off.”

  Mateo smiles faintly. “They had better things to do, apparently.”

  “Can we not…?” Mia trails off, shaking her head.

  “Don’t want to talk about it?” I ask. “Sure. Let’s talk about something else. See any good movies lately?”

  Mia sighs, covering her face with her hands and taking a minute to regroup.

  A couple seats down from me, Dante breaks the awkward silence. “The death of a traitor shouldn’t bother you this much. Suck it up.”

  “No one asked you,” Mateo informs his brother, an edge of warning in the gaze he sends his way.

  I can’t help grimacing at Dante myself. My insider information makes my reaction authentic, but what the fuck, Dante?

  “Sorry, tin man,” Mia snaps. “Some of us aren’t so casual about losing family members.”

  He shakes his head, reaching for his wine glass. “There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Says the sociopath who is all, ‘oh, it’s just a little murder, what are you getting so worked up about?’”

  “It’s not murder,” he says, distinctly. “It’s execution.”

  Mateo speaks firmly enough to silence them both. “Drop it.”

  Given it’s so quiet, we all hear Elise murmur to Adrian, “This is why I said we should play the morning sickness card and skip tonight.”

  Adrian smiles faintly and spears a bite of salad.

  Dinner is a solemn affair after that. A few attempts at conversation are made, but they all die a painful, lingering death. Mia tries to talk to me and can’t. Apparently she’s the only one at the table who cares about my impending death.

  Well, my fake impending death.

  I’m quiet, too. I can’t stop thinking about what tonight will bring. This isn’t how I would spend my last meal, if it would actually be my last meal, but as half the table sits here thinking I’m the dead woman w
alking, I know otherwise. Elise’s morning sickness comment sticks in my head. I didn’t know she was pregnant again. I never even thought about what would happen to Elise. I still don’t really care, if I’m being honest; Elise doesn’t like me anyway. Still, with Adrian and Mateo taken down tonight, they leave behind two pregnant wives. I can’t imagine Rafe and Dante will want to keep Elise around. Will they keep Westley? Rafe never mentioned him when he said he would essentially deal with Mia’s baby.

  There’s a domino effect here. A lot of lives are going to be fucked up just so power can change hands.

  It’s not like that power is transferring into better hands, either. I shudder to think of a Chicago under Dante’s rule. I know it won’t be my problem; I’m going to hightail it as far away from this city as feasibly possible. Still, I hate thinking of him in this house. I hate imagining him looming in the doorway of the bedroom I shared with Mateo and claiming it as his. I hate imagining Colette taking over Mia’s closet.

  I hate picturing Mia, period, because she’s miserable. I saw years ago what life was like for her with Mateo, the other half of her heart, after she thought he killed Vince. Life with Rafe after he kills Mateo? It’s going to make what we all went through before look like paradise.

  Long story short, I do not enjoy my last meal. To make matters worse, the main course is salmon. I’m positive it’s purely out of spite because Mateo knows I hate it.

  By the time dinner is over and it’s time for Dante to leave, I’m a ball of tension. I have no idea how any of this is executed. They only said tonight. What if they mean now? Rafe, Dante, and Alec are all right here. They have the element of surprise.

  A sweat breaks out as Rafe and Dante exchange glances—too telling to be nothing. Fear coils in my gut.

  Before I can work myself up to a full panic, Dante nods at Mateo, puts a hand at the small of Colette’s back, and walks out the front door. No blazing guns, no dramatic scene. I’m relieved, but the relief only lasts a moment.

  Then the doubt sets in.

  What if they’re playing me? I’m not sure I see the benefit in doing such a thing… unless they just want me to go quietly. Obviously it calms me to make me think I’m escaping with my life, but what if that’s the point? Feed me bullshit so that I march to my death, thinking it’s the path to survival. What if this was my last meal, and Mateo just wanted me to think otherwise so I wouldn’t upset Mia more than she already was?

  By the time we get back to Rafe’s bedroom, I have myself quite convinced that I’ve been bamboozled. Not sure enough to say so in front of the cameras, but still sure.

  Rafe closes the door behind us and I head for the bathroom door. “Can you come help me? I can’t reach the zipper on this dress.”

  “Sure,” Rafe murmurs, following me inside the bathroom.

  Once the door is closed, I narrow my eyes and glare at him. “What are you trying to pull?”

  His brow furrows in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “This is all bullshit, isn’t it? You’re telling me you’re going to help me just so I don’t cause a ruckus, just so these last days are peaceful, and it’s all bullshit, isn’t it?”

  “I am helping you. I told you that.”

  “But it’s bullshit.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Dante left. He left. Nothing happened.”

  Rafe’s eyes widen. “What did you expect him to do? It was dinner. You think he’s going to take on Mateo with Colette by his side, right in the line of fire? I don’t think so. Use your head, Meg.”

  “I am using my head, and my head says bullshitting me like this is exactly what Mateo would do to make everything smooth for fucking Mia! She made it through the last dinner; she’s not going to see me again, so you can tell me. Stop lying.”

  Rafe grabs his head, eyes wide with exasperation. “You are obsessed with that fucking girl. Jesus Christ.”

  My eyes bulge. “Says the man who wants her as a pet!”

  “Wanting to fuck someone isn’t being obsessed with them.”

  I scoff. “Boy, are you wrong.”

  “This is stupid,” Rafe announces, turning around and reaching for the door knob.

  “No.” I shove the door closed as he tries to open it.

  “Would you stop?” he asks, glaring at me over his shoulder. “This is going to start looking suspicious.”

  “Not if it’s bullshit,” I fling back, eyebrows rising haughtily.

  “This is the last time I’m going to tell you it’s not bullshit.” He shakes his head. “I don’t need you. I was offering you a lifeline. I was being nice. If you keep being a pain in my ass, I’ll put a bullet in your fucking head myself.”

  I’m still leaning on the door, trying to keep it shut, but my strength is obviously no match for his. He wrenches it open without trouble and abandons me in the bathroom with all my doubts.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mia

  Mateo knows how sad I am, so he gives me the rest of the night off.

  We spend a little bit of cuddle time with Roman after dinner, but come bedtime, Mateo hands him off to Ju instead of putting him to bed in the room next to ours. Mateo does Rosalie’s bedtime story alone and I stay in bed, blankets pulled up over my head, heart heavy with dread and grief.

  Once he returns to the bedroom, he pulls me close, tucks me against his chest, and just holds me. We don’t talk. We don’t make love. I like to believe we’re mourning together, though I don’t know if he actually mourns her. I tell myself he does, but the only remorse I sense in him is remorse over his actions hurting me, not remorse over what he’s going to do.

  Eventually, I drift off to sleep.

  I’m not a light sleeper like my husband, but these past few nights with Roman have me in the habit of listening for a disturbance. When my eyes fly open in response to a burst of noise, I automatically think it’s Roman and bolt upright, moving one leg over the edge of the bed to go get him.

  But it’s not Roman. Roman is with Ju.

  Dante stands in the open door of my bedroom, moonlight streaming in through the window and illuminating his dark features.

  I don’t know what’s going on, but cold fear crawls down my spine. Dante left hours ago, after dinner. As far as I know, he doesn’t have a key to this house; Mateo doesn’t want him having unfettered access.

  I reach beside me to alert Mateo and find the bed empty. My heart plummets and I look at the empty spot where my husband should be. I rub the spot, confused, my mind resisting the reality every sign points to.

  Then, beyond the blood rushing through my veins, I hear the noises that woke me. The struggle. Coming from the floor on Mateo’s side of the bed.

  A low, practically growled, “Get the fuck off me,” and the follow-up smack of a fist hitting flesh. I’m going to be sick. My mind searches desperately for an explanation, one that isn’t catastrophic, but it comes up blank. I peer over the side of the bed and see Mateo flat on his back, struggling to get Rafe off of him.

  At least the motion of me looking over the edge briefly distracts Rafe. He gives me a slow smile, and says, “Hello, little one.”

  It gives Mateo time to land a strong left hook right to his jaw. Launching myself back on the bed, I reach for the phone on my nightstand, but I’ve taken too long to react. Dante’s hand closes roughly around my wrist and he plucks the phone from my fingers, tossing it behind him. The phone hits the wall and drops to the floor while I struggle to get away from him.

  “We should switch,” Dante tells Rafe, casually. “I think you’ll enjoy restraining her far more than I will.”

  He’s obviously not talking to me. I pull back hard, trying to free my wrist. It’s futile, so I try for more leverage, leaning back and shoving my feet, trying to kick him in the stomach.

  He deftly catches my ankle with his other hand and shakes his head at me, annoyed even now. “You are such a stupid little bitch. Now I have your hand and your foot. Now what?”

>   I narrow my eyes, swing my body, and kick him right in the face with my other foot. I feel good about it for a nanosecond, but it only serves to further piss him off. Releasing my ankle, he grabs a fistful of my hair instead and drags me off the bed.

  “No,” I cry, as he locks my arms behind me painfully. My scalp is used to roughness, but not this level of roughness. “Ow! You’re hurting me.”

  “Hey,” Rafe barks from the other side of the bed. “Don’t handle her that way. Let her go.”

  Mateo punches him in the face for his effort, but I understand.

  “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” Dante informs me. “Always have been, right from the moment you came on the scene. I’ll be honest, if I’d known the night he fucked you at the poker game you would be such a resilient pain in the ass, I’d have taken a picture of you dolled up like a little whore, sent it around, and sold your ass, right out from under his nose. Luca could’ve nabbed you on your way home from school—he’d still be alive, which he’s not, again, thanks to you.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about. My voice is unsteady when I ask, “Who is Luca?”

  “He was my friend,” Dante states, simply. “My brother let him die to appease your bullshit do-gooder agenda. The official story is some tale of Salvatore’s vengeance, but I’m no idiot; I know why he handed over one of his top earners and shut down my primary revenue stream.”

  “As villain monologues go, this one isn’t bad.” My gaze snaps to the new voice as Alec strolls into the room. Alec? This one sort of shocks me. Alec has always been nice to me, overall.