Submitting in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 3)

Vince looks over at me and smirks. “If your hold on your man card is so delicate that it’s threatened by watching shitty shows with the girls, you probably shouldn’t have one in the first place.”

Uncharacteristically agreeing with his brother-in-law, Sin nods his head. “It’s not such a big deal. The blow jobs we’ll get later will more than make up for it. If the kids are in bed, you might even get one during. I love Smallville.”

Laurel smirks and leans into Sin’s side. “Damn right you do.”

My eyebrows rise with interest and I look at Virginia. “Does a viewing of Frozen come with a blow job? I might be willing to change my stance under those circumstances.”

“Not from me. I don’t see Sin letting Laurel give you one, and Carly might bite your dick off. Neither guy rolls that way, so I think you’re out of luck,” she concludes with a grimace.

“I like her,” Carly decides.

I like her, too, but instead of saying that, I shake my head. “See, that’s what’s missing for me. No pay-off.”

“Poor Rafe,” Virginia says, patting my thigh.

I gave her the perfect opening, so I wait for her to make a dig about the other night. Maybe tell me I should ask Galina for a blow job if I’m so hard up. It never comes, though. I know it’s not because she hasn’t thought of it; Virginia has a quick wit, so if she wanted to throw a jab, she wouldn’t struggle to find the material. Apparently, she doesn’t. The moment passes and she turns her attention back to the TV.

After Smallville, we watch A Christmas Carol. While the movie is on, Laurel lets Sin take the slumbering 7lb bundle that is Nicholas and put him in his crib. She follows him

and comes back with an armful of wrapped presents. Carly hops off the couch and follows, then Laurel, Sin, and Carly come back with even more presents. Carly arranges them around the Christmas tree so Laurel doesn’t have to get down on the floor. Laurel supervises the project and Sin stands by her side, apparently surprised by how much thought and care goes into gift arrangement. I know when everyone brought gifts to Ellie’s birthday, we just stacked them wherever they fit on a picnic table with a pink plastic table cover thrown over it. Laurel and Carly seem to be orchestrating a complex set-up worthy of LEGO that should come with a manual, accordingly.

I’ll give it to them, though, when they’re finished, there’s not a single empty patch beneath that tree. I tell myself this is just because it’s their first Christmas with a baby, but I have a feeling it isn’t. Carly is a mama bear who doesn’t do anything half-assed, including present arrangement, so I bet this is Vince’s life. Once he and Carly reproduce, every Christmas Eve thereafter, assembling presents around the tree will be like getting a box of LEGO bricks without instructions. Poor little bastard. At least she’s hot, I guess.

Vince remains on the floor in front of the couch, but he doesn’t care about the movie and he is not as fascinated by Carly’s present arrangement skills as I am, so he’s on his iPhone. When Carly finishes with the gifts, she sits on the couch behind him and glances down at the screen of his phone. She frowns faintly, as if slightly worried, then leans down and wraps her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“He looks adorable,” she comments.

Vince nods his agreement. “He thinks he’s being sneaky, eating Santa’s cookies.”

“A little scamp after my own heart,” Carly says, lightly. “I like his PJs.”

“I bet he’s excited,” Vince mumbles, clearly feeling left out. Judging by his tone and their comments, I assume Mia must have sent him a Christmas Eve picture of her son, Dom.

“I’m sure he is,” Carly says, injecting a little more pleasure into her tone to subtly guide him. “He’s going to have a great day with all his siblings tomorrow. Can you even imagine how many presents are going to be stashed under that ginormous tree tonight? I bet it’s little kid heaven.”

“Yeah, Mateo always made sure there were a lot of presents under the tree for us,” Vince mutters, like it kills him to give Mateo credit for anything. Probably does. This kid needs to learn to let shit go. “Now that he has 86 kids, I’m sure it’s like a toy store wasteland,” he adds.

I can’t help smirking at his snide comment. I also think Mateo has too many kids, but that’s just because kids aren’t my thing. If anyone can afford to take care of a horde of tiny spawn, it’s my cousin, Mateo. If I had his wife and his vehement disinterest in condoms, I’d probably have a bunch of Morelli babies running around, too. Vince doesn’t disapprove for the same reasons, though. He’s just jealous.

His wife clearly has the patience of a fucking saint, because she knows that, and she still drops down onto the floor beside him, rests her head on his shoulder, and watches as he peruses pictures of the rape baby that nearly ruined Mia’s life.

I have no intention of sticking my nose in his pity party, I really fucking don’t, but then he mutters, “I should be there with him. It’s not fair.”

Letting my head fall back as I roll my eyes, I mutter, “Jesus Christ.”

Vince’s head snaps up, his brown eyes narrowing at me. He’s already spoiling for a fight after looking at these pictures—he wants to fight Mateo, not me, but since I once had my dick inside his golden girl, too, I’m the next best thing—so of course he calls me on it. “You wanna say something, asshole?”

“No, please continue feeling sorry for yourself, I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” I tell him.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it,” he says, jabbing a finger in the direction of the tree. “You get to be here with your son on Christmas Eve, you get to see him as much as you want to, and you don’t even fucking care. Talk to me when you’re stuck on the outside looking in.”

“You should be grateful she lets you look in,” I tell him. “If I were Mia, I wouldn’t even send you the crumbs. You’ve done nothing to deserve them.”

“Fuck off,” Vince tells me.

“No, you fuck off. This is my turf, not yours. If you can’t handle me calling you out on your bullshit, don’t come back.”

Vince shakes his head, but for once, he must think of his wife and how disappointed she would be if they couldn’t spend holidays here with Sin and Laurel, if his temper caused her to miss her little sister’s wedding, because even though I know it must kill him, he bites his tongue. “This isn’t something we’re ever going to agree on, so we should probably just stop talking about it.”