Submitting in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 3)

Apparently that means if I want to make Laurel happy, I’m going to have to deal with her sister and my asshole little cousin for the rest of my damned days.

Kids. They change every-fucking-thing.

I straighten the sleeve of my black cashmere sweater, waiting for someone to answer the damned door. I’m standing on Sin’s doorstep with a bagful of presents, waiting like an asshole. In a house as small as this one, I don’t see how it could take so long to get to the door.

Finally, the locks start disengaging one at a time, and then the doorknob turns. I don’t know who I’m gonna get. I’m hoping for—expecting—Sin, but the wrong dark-haired, dark-eyed asshole is standing on the other side. This one, I’m related to.

“Vince,” I say, nodding once in acknowledgement.

He doesn’t say a word, just opens the door wider and takes a step back to let me in.

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“About time someone answered,” I offer congenially. “Thought I was going to freeze to death out here.”

He stares at me as I step inside, then cocks an eyebrow. “It’s fifty fuckin’ degrees outside.”

“Like I said.”

Shaking his head at me, Vince says, “You wouldn’t like Connecticut.”

“Nobody likes Connecticut,” I inform him.

He rolls his eyes before shutting the door and locking all the locks again. I don’t bother waiting for him. I know he doesn’t like me, so we don’t have to go through the motions of pretending it’s good to see one another.

I put down the bag of gifts I brought with me when I get to the top of the stairs. I don’t know why I expected Laurel to be immobile on the couch with an IV drip or something, but she is up moving around, a bundled up Nicholas on her shoulder.

“Hey,” she says brightly, coming over to half-hug me.

“How are you feeling, kitten?” I ask, brushing a kiss against her cheek.

“Festive,” she answers, her blue eyes dancing with pleasure. “Thank you for letting Vince and Carly come for Christmas.”

Vince walks up the stairs behind me, and he can’t help muttering dryly, “Yeah, you’re a real swell guy.”

The funny thing about that is, according to our family’s policies concerning the passing on of power, this city should be his, not mine. That’s not why he’s pissy, though. By all accounts, he really is content to live his life with Carly in the godforsaken New England suburbs instead of having power in the Vegas underworld. He’s only mad at me because I fucked his ex-girlfriend. The way I see it, at least I waited until she was his ex.

In the interest of fairness, maybe I don’t deserve credit for that. I can probably only say that because I didn’t meet her until she was his ex. I did mess around with her when the little bastard was holding her captive in an ill-fated attempt to make her love him again, so he probably considers that foul play.

Eh, whatever. He’s married to someone else; the kid should really be over it by now.

Ignoring Vince’s petulance, I step around Laurel so I can look at Nicholas. He’s so fucking tiny, I can’t get over it. “How are you doing, little guy?”

He makes a little noise and looks up at me as Laurel lovingly rubs his back and murmurs, “Nicholas, can you say merry Christmas?”

I notice she doesn’t call me daddy. I’m not offended—or really even surprised—but I wonder what he’ll call me. I know Sin is the one raising him, I know he’ll be better at it than I would anyway, but logistically, I would feel better if I knew what to call myself. There’s always a hint of awkwardness in any situation where you don’t know your own position.

“Want a cookie?”

I look up, not bothering to hide my surprise, when Laurel’s sister holds out a snowman tray full of chocolate chip cookies. “Are they poisoned?” I inquire, given her cheerfulness.

Carly Morelli likes me even less than her husband. I fucked his ex, but I fucked her little sister—and I knocked her up. Suffice it to say, I didn’t earn any points with her for being half responsible for producing a cute nephew, just all the “you ruined my sister’s life, asshole” grief that accompanied him.

Her blue eyes dim with annoyance. “No, they aren’t poisoned. They’re yummy. Have one.” I wait, so she goes on, even more exasperated. “Laurel said I had to be nice to you.”

That explains it.

“We are going to have a nice family Christmas,” Laurel says firmly, eyeing both of us. “You two are going to play nicely, Vince is going to limit his sulking despite your presence, and we are all going to give Nicholas the first Christmas he deserves.”