Fatal Fraud: A Fatal Series Novel

by Marie Force

  “Are you melting down on the inside?”

  “Not really. I’m in full-on denial mode that this has turned into a much bigger deal than anticipated. Derek also hinted to me that Nelson isn’t happy I owned the news cycle today.”

  “Too bad. When he owns the news cycle, there’s murder and extramarital affairs while his wife is being treated for cancer.”

  “True,” Nick said, pouring her a glass of chardonnay and bringing it to her.

  “Nothing for you?” she asked, taking a bite of the delicious enchiladas.

  “Not tonight. I want to be able to sleep. I’m actually tired.”

  “The decision has been weighing on you, and now that it’s made and set in motion, you can relax. The reaction has nothing to do with you or us. Of course people who like you are disappointed, but that’s not our problem. You don’t owe them anything more than what you’ve already given, which is way more than some people ever give to their country.”

  “I might need some help relaxing.” He punctuated the statement with waggling brows and a wolfish grin. “My nerves are stretched rather tightly.”

  “Are you, by any chance, using this situation to get lucky?”

  “Hell yes, I am, and P.S., my wife is kinda easy that way. I don’t need to resort to trickery to get lucky.”

  “Your wife is so easy, but only with you. No one else in this world thinks she’s easy, and she likes it that way.”

  “Speaking of you being a pain in the ass, how’d you make out with the detail?”

  “Fine. I told them to leave me the hell alone, and they left me the hell alone.”

  His lips quivered with amusement. “Thank you for tolerating them and giving me peace of mind.”

  “I’m tolerating them temporarily this one time.”

  He refilled her wineglass and took a sip from his glass of ice water. “Duly noted, my love.”

  “I officially made a new friend today.”

  His brows lifted. “For real?”

  “Yes, for real.”

  “You hate people. You don’t make new friends.”

  Sam nearly sneezed wine out her nose at how accurately he summed her up. “I’ve made a rare exception for Roni Connolly.”

  “The one whose husband was hit by the stray bullet?”

  She nodded. “That’s the one.”

  “Why her?”

  “You know, I have no idea, but from the minute I met her and had to give her the most devastating news of her life, I’ve felt this strange connection to her and a desire to make sure she’s going to be okay. Somehow. I can’t explain it.”

  “It’s very sweet of you to look out for her.”

  Sam scowled at him. “Call me a bitch if you must, but do not say I’m sweet.”

  “Sweetest bitch I’ve ever known.”

  “Ugh. Next, you’ll be telling me I’m nice.”

  “I’d never insult you that way.”

  God, she loved this man with every fiber of her being.

  “But I am kinda concerned about you making a new friend and deciding to make cupcakes in the same day. Who are you, and what’ve you done with my Samantha?”

  “I haven’t made the cupcakes yet, so don’t get too excited.”

  “If you’re around, I’m excited. That’s just how it goes.”

  Scotty came into the kitchen in time to catch that comment and made a loud groan. “Dear God. Does it ever end? Is there ever a time when you’re not talking about that?”

  “We weren’t actually talking about that, if you must know,” Nick said. “We were actually talking about cupcakes.”

  “Is that, like, a metaphor? We learned about them in English class. It’s when you use one word when you mean something else altogether. And with you two, it’s always about the something else.”

  Sam, who’d been trying to hold it together, lost it laughing. She loved him as much as she loved his father.

  “It’s not funny,” Scotty said. “A man ought to be able to get a bowl of ice cream in his own house without having to put up with this nonsense.”

  Nick bit his lip, clearly trying not to laugh hysterically.

  Scotty made a big production of getting out a bowl, a spoon and the ice cream. “Anyone want some? You could use some cooling off.”

  “I’ll have some,” Sam said.

  “Make it a double,” Nick added.

  Scotty served up cookies-and-cream ice cream to the three of them and sat with them at the table. After his second bite, he glanced at them. “I heard what you did today.”

  “What did we do today?” Sam asked, glancing at Nick. She wanted to hear the details in Scotty’s words.

  “You went to see that reporter who asked the offensive question, and then you gave her an interview about adoption and proper terminology.”

  “Oh,” Nick said. “That.”

  Scotty shot him a withering look. “You knew what I was talking about.” He took a huge bite of ice cream, and, talking with his mouth full, he said, “It was cool that you did that.”

  “It was kind of fun,” Sam said. “You should’ve seen the looks we got when we walked into that newsroom unannounced.”

  “You didn’t tell them you were coming?” Scotty asked.

  “Nope. We just showed up.”

  “Holy crap. Imagine minding your own business at work and the VP and his wife come walking in. That reporter must’ve been shitting a brick.”

  “I’m supposed to tell you not to talk like that,” Sam said.

  He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

  “I’m also supposed to tell you it’s fresh to say ‘whatever’ to your mother.”

  “Whatever,” he said, eyes dancing with glee.

  To Nick, Sam said, “Are we going to look back at this as the moment we lost all control of him?”

  “I think that might’ve happened when you encouraged him to blow off eighth-grade math,” Nick said.

  “That was her finest moment as a mother,” Scotty said, offering her a fist bump.

  Sam gave him the bump. “Thank you. I thought so too.”

  “Where are we with the dog conversation?”

  “About the same place we were this time yesterday,” Sam said.

  “That’s not progress. We need some progress.”

  “Christmas is coming,” Nick said. “Make a list.”

  “Here’s my list: dog. Any questions?”

  “Isn’t it your bedtime?” Sam asked.

  “Not for another ten minutes, which gives us plenty of time to discuss this dog we’re going to get for Christmas. What kind should we get?”

  “If we were to get a dog,” Sam said, “I’d want it to be a rescue.”

  “What does that mean?” Scotty asked. “A rescue?”

  “That’s what they call dogs who are taken in by shelters.”

  “Oh, like foster kids.”

  “Not like that at all, because hello, dogs,” Sam said. “Not children.”

  “You know what I mean. They’re little people in need of a good home, which means I’m down with adopting a rescue. Can I help to pick him out?”

  “If we decide to get a dog, you can help to pick him out,” Nick said.

  “I can’t wait.” He took all three of their bowls to the sink, rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. Then he came to the table and hugged them both. “Thanks again for what you did with that reporter.”

  “Anything for you, kid.” Sam echoed the chief’s words to her earlier. “It’s what family does for family.”

  “I’m glad you’re my family, even if you’re always talking about that.”

  “Not always,” Nick said, grinning.

  “Whatever.” He walked out of the room, letting the kitchen door swing closed behind him.

  “Whatever I did to deserve that kid, I’m going to be eternally thankful for it,” Nick said.

  “Ditto. He’s amazing, even when he’s being a cockblocking ass pain who’s not letting the dog thing go.”
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  “No, he isn’t. We’re gonna have to deliver on this, aren’t we?”

  “I believe we are. But are you sure we’re not setting a horrible precedent by letting him wear us down?”

  “I’m not sure at all, but I want him to have a dog as badly as he does.”

  “Same.”

  They got up, finished the dishes and shut off the lights before heading upstairs.

  “How do we know if we’re setting a bad precedent?” Sam asked after they’d looked in on the twins and then closed their own bedroom door for the night. “Like, what comes next? A car?”

  “He’ll want a car when he’s old enough to drive, and we’ll probably get him one since it’ll be easier for us. Not because he thinks he deserves it. He’s not that kind of kid.”

  “True.”

  “Remember how excited he got when I got him a game console to use when he was visiting us? You’d have thought I’d given him a million dollars, because he’d never had one of his own. He’s not so far gone from that life that he’s forgotten what it was like. I don’t think he’ll ever forget where he came from.”

  “I love him unreasonably. I’m afraid I’d spoil him rotten if you weren’t here to stop me.”

  “Same. If he ever finds out that all he has to do is ask us for anything he wants…”

  Sam laughed. “We suck at this.”

  “Maybe so, but he never doubts how much we love him. We made a rather public statement today to that effect.”

  Sam raised her hand for a fist bump. “We did good work there.”

  He wrapped his hand around hers and gave a gentle pull, bringing her into his arms. “Some of our best work.”

  “You mess with our kids, we’re coming for you,” Sam said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Am I allowed to be silly excited that the whole world knows you’re not going to run and that I get to keep you all to myself forever and ever?”

  “You’re definitely allowed. Feel free to celebrate in any way you see fit.”

  Sam loved the way his eyes went wide and his mouth fell open when she dropped to her knees in front of him and began working on his belt.

  “Always a good choice.”

  She laughed as she worked her way into the navy suit pants, unzipping him over a suddenly huge bulge. “Why, Mr. Vice President, a girl might think you’re happy to see her with this kind of reception.”

  “I’m very happy to see you. Always.”

  “So I see—and feel.”

  “Feel free to do more feeling.”

  Could he be any more adorable or sexy or perfect for her? Nope. Not possible. Just as she was about to take things to the next level, his cell phone rang with the tone he’d programmed for his chief of staff, Terry O’Connor.

  Nick let out a tortured groan. “I have to get that.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam released him and sat back as he fished the phone out of his pocket.

  “What’s up?” he asked in a gruff tone that probably told Terry exactly what he was interrupting.

  Only because she was watching him so closely did she notice shock register on his face. What now?

  “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  His entire body tightened with tension that pissed her off. She’d had him on the way to relaxed.

  To Sam, he said, “Turn on the TV. Channel 26.”

  Sam was almost afraid to do as he asked, but she got up to find the remote. And when she turned on the TV, she had to blink twice in rapid succession to believe what she was seeing. Nick’s estranged mother was giving an interview about his decision not to run for president. What the actual fuck?

  The caption at the bottom of the screen read, “Nicoletta Bernadino, mother of Vice President Nick Cappuano.”

  Nick sat on the bed and put the phone on speaker as he stared at the face of his mother, who’d been told all her life she resembled actress Sophia Loren.

  Sam sat next to him as they listened to Nicoletta talk with authority about the vice president as if she spoke to him regularly.

  She didn’t.

  When Sam looked at her mother-in-law, she didn’t see the serene beauty of Sophia Loren. She saw a shameless user who’d neglected her son all his life and now wanted to capitalize on his success.

  “He very much wants to be president, but just not now,” Nicoletta said.

  “Did you tell her that?” Terry asked.

  “I haven’t talked to her in months, since I threatened her with legal action if she didn’t stay out of my business.”

  “Might be time to take that legal action to shut her up.”

  “It’s apparently overdue,” Nick said, sounding incredulous.

  Sam wished she could get her hands on the woman so she could wring her neck. Hadn’t she hurt him enough during a childhood full of broken promises? Anytime she crawled out from under her rock, she made trouble for Nick, and Sam wasn’t having that.

  “Let’s not watch this train wreck.” Sam shut off the television. “Terry, will you please issue a statement for the vice president?”

  “Of course.”

  “Have it say this: Vice President Cappuano is not in contact with his mother. She has no inside information about his deliberation process and speaks with no authority about or for him. She has been, at best, an occasional walk-on character in his life, which was entirely her choice from the beginning. Anything she says about him, his family or his career should be taken as complete fiction. You got that?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. Issue it immediately.”

  “Will do. I’ll speak to you in the morning, Mr. Vice President.”

  “Thank you, Terry,” Nick said as he ended the call.

  “Now,” Sam said, dropping back to her knees in front of him and placing her hands on his thighs. “Where were we?”

  He twirled lengths of her hair around his fingers and smiled down at her. “Remind me never to cross you.”

  The sadness she saw so plainly in his eyes infuriated her. She’d love five minutes alone with her mother-in-law, but there’d probably be blood and paperwork to contend with afterward. “Is it okay to say I hate your mother?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Can we get back to what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted?”

  “You know I never say no to one of your superdeluxe treatments, but would it be okay if we just did this instead?” He gave a gentle tug to bring her to her feet, then wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his head against her.

  Sam wanted to rage over the way his mother continued to hurt him. She ran her fingers through his hair and held on tight, giving him as much love as she possibly could.

  “That statement you drafted on the fly was perfection,” he said after a long period of quiet.

  “I do what I can for the people.”

  He pulled back to gaze at her. “Thank God I have you and our family.”

  “You’ll always have us. You’re our hero, and we love you more than anything.”

  “Thank you for loving me.”

  She smiled at the reminder of their wedding song. “Easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

  Sam carried the incident with Nick’s mother and his shattered reaction to it with her as she left the house the next morning after having breakfast with him and the kids. He’d put on a good front for the kids. They probably hadn’t noticed the sadness in his eyes, but Sam had seen it and continued to be furious by what his mother could do to him with her selfishness. No doubt the network had paid her to come on and spread her bullshit.

  Sam glanced toward the checkpoint, her eyes bugging at the massive media presence, and then groaned when her detail approached her.

  “Mrs. Cappuano,” Vernon said, “we’d like to drive you today.”

  “That’s not happening. Anything else?”

  He started to say something, seemed to think better of it and then shook his head.

  “Good, now can you please ge
t me out of here? I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  It took her two agents working with six others at the checkpoint to get her through the crowd that shouted questions at her as she drove past them. She picked up bits and pieces of what they were saying: “convince him to run,” “his mother,” “want to be president,” “because of Nelson.”

  Did they think she was going to stop, roll down her window and suddenly get chatty with them about her husband’s career when she’d never said a word about it or him in all the months he’d been in office? Not going to happen in this or any other lifetime. But she was curious about what was being said about them, so she turned on WTOP and caught the broadcast in the midst of covering Nick’s decision and the subsequent fallout.

  “The vice president’s office immediately issued a statement that discredited Ms. Bernadino and referred to the apparent estrangement between Vice President Cappuano and his mother. According to sources close to the vice president, he’s never had a relationship with his mother, who was largely absent from his childhood. Ms. Bernadino has given several interviews since her son became vice president, but each time, the vice president has reaffirmed the fact that he’s not in contact with her. Last night’s statement was the most pointed one yet on the topic of his mother.

  “In other news, after the announcement from the vice president that shook Washington’s halls of power yesterday, the Democratic National Committee finds itself back to square one with the party’s assumed frontrunner out of the race. We’ve got DNC chair Brandon Halliwell with us for an exclusive interview. Mr. Halliwell, when did you find out the vice president had decided not to run in the next election?”

  “A little before the rest of the world heard the news.”

  “Was it a surprise to you?”

  “Not completely. In hindsight, the vice president has been indicating for some time in private meetings and other deliberations that he might not run. I’ll admit that I and others within the party leadership had fervently hoped he’d change his mind. That said, I do respect his reasons for sitting this one out.”