Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Ben’s cold gaze slides to me now. I don’t know whether my having the nerve to speak first, or Jessica’s assertion that I look beautiful did more to bring his attention to me, but now his gaze rakes my body, at once dismissive and degrading. My stomach sinks, feelings from Vegas coming back to me, climbing up my throat and filling me with anxiety. I draw in a breath right around the time his gaze hits my sweetheart neckline and lingers.

I don’t even think, I just bring a hand to my chest, covering myself to the best of my ability.

A cold sneer tugs at Ben’s lips as he meets my gaze. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m not impressed.”

Everything about this man makes me feel dirty.

Mateo’s cold voice cuts through the tension in the air. “If you’re going to speak to my wife, I suggest you do it with much more respect than that.”

Ben’s gaze slides back in Mateo’s direction. He lifts a hand to rub at his jaw in a gesture than can only be mocking, but it lacks any kind of good humor. “Your wife, huh? Funny, last I checked, she was my son’s whore.”

Shame wraps itself around me like a wet blanket, coating me in grimy humiliation. Mateo’s grip on me tightens protectively, his body tensing.

Jessica’s eyes go round and she looks around as the men surrounding us all advance a step.

My stomach rolls over and bile threatens to rise up my throat. I don’t think it’s the baby’s fault, though thinking of the baby in this moment is horrible because I’m just now realizing it descends from this terrible, disgusting man.

I fight the urge to put a protective hand over my abdomen, but I’m a little worried I’m going to toss my cookies. I swallow convulsively, drawing in a breath, but Mateo doesn’t react. I’m terrified he’s going to. I don’t know what happens if he kills Ben, but I’m trying really hard to see how this ends without that happening, and…

Oh, god, my stomach. I can’t handle this stress.

Adrian steps forward. “This was a bad idea. Let’s not do this. This is a pleasant event. Why don’t you two just shake hands and go your separate ways.”

“Shake hands?” Mateo asks, smiling slightly. It’s a weird smile, though—not just tinged with menace, but steeped in it. Menace oozes out of this smile and it turns my stomach even more. “You think I’m going to shake hands with this washed up, sorry excuse of a man? I wouldn’t trouble myself to spit at his feet.”

Ben lights up with rage. I haven’t seen him actually feel anything beyond mild, bored disdain, but now heat suffuses his wrinkled cheeks, his dark eyes gleaming murderously. “You dare speak to me that way?” he asks, quietly. The way he says it, he seems to imply he’s giving Mateo one last chance to change his story.

Mateo doesn’t. “Oh, I dare a lot, old man. Just like you, right? You come to my home, to my wedding.” Mateo waves his hand, indicating the gathering. “You insult me with your presence; you insult my wife by reminding her she ever had a thing to do with your cowardly, sniveling little bitch of a son—who hates you, by the way.” He rears back, as if stunned, and places a hand over his heart. “That’s just fucking rude, now, isn’t it?” Indicating Jessica at Ben’s side, he says, “I don’t laugh about this showgirl you brought with you, pointing out how even with that trashy dress and excellent boob job, you probably can’t get it up. I don’t say a thing about your spineless, shit-for-brains son insulting me, taking what’s mine and hurting her. Hell, I don’t even tell one of the hired guns who stopped you on your way to my house to just put a bullet through your useless fucking skull and end your lonely, miserable existence. There are a lot of things I could’ve said to you, Ben. But all I have to say to you is this: get the fuck out of my city.”

Adrian moves toward Ben, but the old man flings his arm off as soon as he touches it. He’s visibly vibrating with rage, his enormous pride wounded and raging. “You’re no fucking boss, Mateo. You don’t know the meaning of the word. The whole lot you, this whole generation, nothing but fucking disappointments. You really are your father’s son, aren’t you? Thinking with your dick and chasing some useless piece of pussy around like some fucking providence. This obsession you and my son have with this stupid little whore is fucking sickening.” Spittle flies out of his mouth as he delivers that last bit, nearly shouts it.

Adrian’s jaw locks and he takes Ben’s arm again. Two more men steps up to escort Ben out, and Ryder walks around to lead Jessica away. She casts an apologetic look back at us over her shoulder.