Pay Off: Accidental Marriage Mafia Romance (The Ferrari Family Book 5)

by Hazel Parker

  Megan’s eyes drifted to her wine cabinet. I wouldn’t have held it against her if she had a bottle of their shit.

  “And he paid her off to stay away from his perfect family life. A fucking crock of shit if you ask me. But in asking her why she never said anything, she revealed that Eddie wasn’t my real father. My uncle was.”

  “Jesus…” Megan said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “So. I wasn’t in a great headspace. I feel like my whole life has been one big fucking lie. I don’t know what I’m going to do about my mom, to be honest with you. I’m not going to abandon her but she’s got a lot of fucking explaining to do. And I swear to you, while we’re on the topic, I did not send in the divorce papers or tell my mom to send them in.”

  “What do you want to do about that, Brad?” Megan said, her voice frighteningly soft and quiet. “What do you want this to be? Do you want it to be anything? Or are you still wanting to end it?”

  I locked eyes with her. I knew what type of an effect my gaze could have, but now, I didn’t want to seduce her. I wanted to let her know I cared for her.

  Perhaps, fuck, if I could admit it, loved her.

  “When you kicked me out just now, I went for a walk and thought about what I valued most in this world,” I said. “I thought about the people who had treated me well. And there were two people that came to mind immediately. My father. And you.”

  Megan cooed quietly, and I was beginning to see tears form in her eyes.

  “My father was an honorable man, and I don’t mean the man who contributed to my conception. I mean the man who raised me. Eddie Nimico was a man who had a temper and wasn’t afraid to say harsh things, sometimes to a fault, but he was loving and sincere. I never had to guess where I stood with him, because he always gave it to me straight. And you know who does the same thing? You, Megan. You do the same fucking thing.”

  I knew what I was about to do was risky. But by this point, whatever losing consequence there could be to this failing would pale in comparison to the hurt I’d already felt.

  I stood up, walked over to her, pulled up a chair, and sat across from her. This time, there was no table between us. There was only about six inches of space. I could easily touch her.

  “I don’t expect you to just take me back and pretend the last two weeks didn’t happen,” I said. “But I would ask you to believe that everything I have just told you. And as for you? I want you. I need you. I must have you.”

  I couldn’t quite say I loved her. But I would be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind.

  “And I know we’ve gone past our full minute, but you’ll forgive me for not giving a fuck. I need to make my point.”

  Megan bowed her head. From where I sat, it looked like she closed her eyes and ran through several thoughts.

  “Stand up.”

  I hesitated but did as she commanded. I put my hands in my pockets and waited for the next command. She rose and turned her face to me. I genuinely had no idea what to expect next. Her face was impossible to read.

  And then she collapsed into me and hugged me tightly.

  I let out a breath of relief and squeezed her in my arms. I had no naive expectations that this meant everything was perfect, but at least we were treating each other with love and kindness right now.

  We just stayed there embracing and holding each other, two people that had gone through different versions of hell over the last several days. This wasn’t the time for words.

  “Come on,” she said in a soft voice. “Let’s go lie on the couch.”

  I did as she asked, holding her hand as we walked over. When we collapsed on there, we just cuddled each other. I think at one point, she reached half-heartedly for the remote, but she stopped trying to get it after one attempt.

  And as it was, with as exhausting as everything had been, the thing we needed most wasn’t some mindless TV show. It was just each other’s body against the other.

  Slowly, very slowly, I felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with Megan Adams back in my arms.

  * * *

  When my eyes opened, it was the middle of the night. I didn’t have my phone or a clock anywhere near me.

  But I still had Megan in my arms, and in that regard, even though it was a weeknight, it didn’t matter if it was eight p.m. or three a.m. As long as I had her, as long as I had a chance to make up for everything that had happened, sleep didn’t matter.

  “This all,” she said in a groggy voice. “Everything about this…you’re here, right? I’m not dreaming this, right?”

  I smiled. I hadn’t kissed her yet, and I felt tempted to. But I wanted to do it after a little bit of buildup.

  Like I said, I liked to do things on my terms.

  “You’re not dreaming this,” I said. “I’m as real as it fucking gets.”

  Megan let out a soft laugh, turned around, and looked at me. Her half-shut eyes closed all the way. I did the same, moving in, and I kissed her.

  I kissed her like I never wanted to let go because I would never do so. This, right here, this was bliss.

  “Let’s go to bed,” she said.

  I helped her up, held her hand, and walked her to the bedroom. She grabbed her clothes, changed, and got into bed.

  “You’re staying the night, right?” she said.

  It was the easiest question she had ever asked me.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Chapter 24: Megan

  I opened my eyes to the morning dawn. Physically, I felt the same. My eyes were puffy and swollen, my throat felt dry, and my body felt…

  Wait.

  No, I didn’t feel like I did every other morning.

  Even with that soreness, even with those aches, I felt…good.

  And a lot of that had to do with the arm around my waist.

  I gently moved Brad’s arm and went into the bathroom. After taking care of things, I paused in the doorway and looked. Brad was still asleep, and he looked so good.

  My heart swelled at the sight. I’d been lying to myself all this time. Well, no, I’d been lying to myself about what I would do if the real Brad showed up. I knew that the person that had ghosted me hadn’t been the real Brad, but there was no way I could have known for sure until now.

  He had his own heartache. I had mine. But together, perhaps we could move forward and start to make things better.

  Was this the real Brad?

  I walked to the bed as he started to stir.

  The answer, I realized, wasn’t so black and white. Yes, it was still Brad Nimico, but whatever had happened to him in the last few days had changed him. The old Brad would never have stood outside my apartment, begging for a second chance. He would have had too much pride to do so. He still talked a tough game, and he was still the badass I’d always known him to be, but he was willing to bend to my desires a bit.

  So no, it wasn’t really the same person.

  Neither was I.

  Regardless, I was glad it was Brad Nimico in my bed.

  His eyes popped open, and I smiled.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  He smirked.

  “It damn well is when I open my eyes and see you.”

  My heart skipped a beat and my stomach warmed. I didn’t know how to respond to that, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

  I went over to him, got under the covers, and kissed him.

  “You’re a gift.”

  “Damn fucking right,” he said. “Not as much a gift as you are, though.”

  I leaned forward and kissed him once more.

  But this time, the kiss did not break off. In fact, after a couple of seconds, Brad had rolled over on top of me. I hadn’t kissed him with the intent of starting this, but just as had happened so often on the boat, now that we were moving in that direction, there was nothing that was going to stop us—and I didn’t want anything to.

  Just in case he had any doubts about where this was goi
ng, I reached underneath his boxers, at first just placing my hands on his firm ass and squeezing. He went from kissing me on the lips to moving to my neck. I let out a gentle, quiet moan letting him know I was enjoying it.

  He started to work his way down, pushing up the T-shirt I had on and suckling on my breasts.

  “Oh, Brad, I missed you so much,” I said.

  He looked up at me, tenderness in his eyes. The ferocious man that had taken me in Las Vegas was still there, but that side of him wasn’t here. It wouldn’t have been appropriate, to be frank.

  “I’ll make up for lost time,” he said.

  Oh, yes.

  He moved down my stomach and to my belly button, stopping right at my panties. I’d gone from half-awake and barely cognizant to soaking wet in a matter of seconds, and by the time Brad had gotten there, I was more than ready to take this to the next level.

  He grabbed the sides of my panties, yanked them down, and went right to work, smothering his tongue on my clit.

  “Close your eyes,” he said. “And let me please you.”

  Some commands of his, I was more than happy to obey. I did just that, keeping them shut as the tension slowly rose within me. I wanted to look down at him, at his enthusiasm for sucking and licking me, but I knew doing so would get him to stop. I smiled and kept murmuring his name, a gentle sound that got louder and louder as he moved me closer and closer to climax.

  And then, almost without warning, as if by magic, he did something—it felt like he was darting his tongue on my clit—that just pushed me right over the edge. I grabbed the bedsheets and clenched my fists shut and squeezed my legs tight together in tension as Brad brought me to climax.

  “Yes, Brad…” I said breathlessly, barely able to get the words out.

  I had to grab his hair and gently push him back—I didn’t have the energy to push back too hard—to get him to stop. And when he did and he came up for a kiss, I didn’t mind it in the slightest. It felt like he was simply giving me a taste of his work, and I loved it.

  “Now that’s a good morning,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I said in between kisses. “You didn’t even get off.”

  “But you did.”

  Why did this Brad have to disappear for two weeks?

  “Well, I can’t be the only one to orgasm here. Come on, get on your back.”

  “I have a better idea,” he said as he slid his boxers off. I reached down and stroked him, but that didn’t stop him from making his point. “Let’s make this a mutual pleasure, shall we? My wife?”

  God, for a topic that was so damn complex and so fucking confusing, he had a way of making it sound so hot and so damn perfect. I nodded as I lunged in to kiss him once more. I felt his cock brush against my still-swollen clit. Moments later, he had gone deep inside me, pushing as far as he could go.

  “Oh, fuck, I missed this,” I said.

  He buried his head into my shoulder, picked up the pace, and had me now saying his name just a little bit louder.

  God, he was so good. No one else had ever made me feel like this. No one. Part of it was the physical perks, sure, but most of it was that there really was no one I’d rather have as my husband.

  And now I had him. I finally had him back.

  And when he came just a short while later—I guess he hadn’t had release in a while—I looked into his eyes with something that I hesitated to say to myself and certainly wouldn’t say to him, but it was nevertheless a certain feeling I felt, something strong deep inside of me.

  Just don’t say it out loud and scare him off.

  “Holy hell,” I said when he pulled out.

  Brad just laughed. He was left speechless, knocked out by the passionate sex we’d just had.

  It was a pretty good way to start a day like today. I didn’t think there would be much else about today to really look forward to.

  Chapter 25: Brad

  That just happened.

  And now we have to go to a funeral.

  The whirlwind of emotions was never-ending, but at least this time, it felt like we had some sort of odd awareness about the whirlwind that we were in. We knew we were in for a rough day, but we knew we could tackle it together.

  And that, right there, was probably ninety-five percent of the reason why I felt like we could handle it. If anything, I was holding back how I actually felt about her—there were so many strong, maybe too strong, things I wanted to express.

  “I suppose we should get ready,” Megan said with a sigh. “And that means you’ll have to go home and get ready.”

  “I know,” I said, biting my tongue from making a joke. “I promise I’ll be there.”

  “You’re sure?” she said.

  I wanted to say of course, but she had good reason for questioning that. Recent actions past last night suggested otherwise.

  “I promise, more than anything else, that I will be there,” I said. “You will not be alone. That’s my fucking promise to you.”

  Megan came up to me, planted a loving kiss on my lips, and hugged me close.

  “Thank you.”

  * * *

  I hurried back to my place to get ready. Going through the preparation to get ready was something that I hadn’t done in nearly ten years, but now that it was here, it brought me back to the last funeral that I had attended.

  My father’s.

  I remembered every single detail of it, from the song that they played at the start to the final words of the priest, “And none of us shall ever forget the spirit Edward Nimico gave to all of us.”

  But I do remember that the whole thing unfolded with a certain sense of detachment for me. My mother had told me it was up to me to step up as a father figure in the house, something I dreaded the moment it was given to me. That role had long-lasting effects on me.

  I didn’t think I was going to fucking crumble like a freshly baked cookie at this event, but I knew I had to keep it together for Megan.

  I also had to keep it together for a very specific reason, one that had only come to mind in the last hour or so but one that, the instant that I thought, I knew it to be true.

  I loved Megan Adams.

  And I would tell her that.

  Of course, I was going to remain aware of the situation. I wasn’t going to drop a bombshell phrase like that on her two seconds after her father had been laid six feet under. There was being aggressive and assertive, and then there was just being dense. I prided myself on knowing the difference.

  But it was happening. It wasn’t a matter of if. It was a matter of when.

  * * *

  The funeral was hosted at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City, which is a beautifully ornate building. Megan had clearly spared no expense in making sure Mario got the proper send-off that he deserved.

  It was odd, though, that there were maybe only twenty people in total, probably a good dozen-plus whom I recognized either from Megan’s company or my own.

  Megan saw me and waved me to the front. Someone who looked vaguely like Mario sat on the other end of the pew with her, perhaps the one other family member who had shown up. Otherwise, it was just him, Megan, and people who knew him from work.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, squeezing my arm once we’d sat down.

  “Of course, I said I would be here.”

  She smiled at me gently.

  “You did, but...”

  Someone gestured for Megan to stand up, and she approached the lectern, prepared to give a speech.

  “Good morning,” she said. “All of you know Mario Adams, so I’m not going to tell you what you already know. What I am going to tell you is how it is never too late to love.”

  She wasn’t looking at me, but I could feel her words directed toward me.

  “My father and I, it will come as no surprise, can be two very stubborn people,” she said, drawing polite chuckles from the crowd. “For much of our adult life, especially after my mother had passed, we fought and butted heads. Bu
t perhaps a week before he died, my father and I had reached a certain peace. He didn’t fight me anymore. And even though we only had a few days left, I felt a strong sense of comfort and peace in knowing that when he’d died, he had done so without hatred or annoyance or disdain for anything I had done.”

  Including our marriage. How about that?

  “Living in this city, having the jobs that we have, personalities and egos can get involved and make life difficult. I am here to tell you that that is not necessary. We can compete as businessmen and women and still love our neighbor and our families. We can still be good humans. We can follow Mario Adams’ lead and do that.”

  She gulped. So far, she’d maintained remarkable composure, but I couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t crack at some point. That wasn’t said in judgment of her but of the situation—who didn’t crack and cry when a loved one died?

  “So on this day, let us celebrate the life of Mario Adams. But let us also celebrate the fact that, indeed, all is well that ends well. My father and I cannot get back the time that we wasted fighting, but we also will forever have the times that we loved each other. Far better for us to find forgiveness and love after a hard struggle than to give it up because it feels too small. That was what my father taught me, and that is what I hope he teaches all of you.”

  * * *

  When the funeral ended and it was time to walk to the graveyard, I rose and turned to hold Megan’s hand as we walked out. But when I did, I saw something that nearly made me forget where I was.

  I saw my mother standing at the back of the church. At least she’d had the fucking courtesy not to make her presence known, but that was about the only nice thing I could say. She wasn’t looking at me with any particular sort of expression, but her concern was undeniable. I was pissed. I asked for space, and here she fucking was!