Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

My stomach rocks and rolls. Tears well up in my eyes and I’m not even sure why. Mateo is still so tense and angry beside me, I can feel it rolling off of him. I don’t know what else to do, so I just turn to him, wrap my arms around him, and bury my face in his chest. It takes him just a few more seconds, then he wraps me in the shelter of his arms, lightly kissing me on top of the head.

“That was horrible,” I mutter against his chest.

“I know,” he murmurs, lowly. “I’m sorry that happened. I wanted tonight to be perfect for you.”

“It is perfect,” I assure him, gazing up at him. I bring a hand up to caress his strong jawline, affection for him dulling the sting of what just happened. “I’m sorry he brought up…”

Mateo shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, Mia. I told you that.”

I nod, comforted by the memory of how wonderful Mateo was when I came home. I wrap my arms around him for a hug, just soaking up his presence for a moment. “What happens now?” I ask.

“Now we go back to enjoying what’s left of our wedding.”

I pull back to look up at him. “I meant with your uncle.”

“He’s no uncle of mine,” Mateo tells me, faintly shaking his head. “No one who has a problem with you gets to call me family. You’re my family. Ben is an archaic waste of my time.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you fight with your family, Mateo. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“You haven’t caused trouble,” Mateo states, calmly running his fingers along the curve of my shoulder. “He did, when he made the decision to support Vince’s actions against me. He can talk all the shit he wants; I have doubled this empire since pushing my father aside. I have efficient people working for me who know better than to fuck up. I have nothing to prove to that man, and I damn sure don’t owe him any respect after Vegas.”

“Well, I’ve never liked him based solely on what he did to Maria, so I don’t disagree, I just… I’m worried.”

Running the back of his hand tenderly across my cheek, he says, “Don’t be. You’re safe.”

“I know, but I need you to be safe.”

“I’m going to make sure we’re both safe,” he assures me.

I don’t like the sound of that. His voice is calm, even tender, as he reassures me, but all it translates to in my head is murder. They can’t interact that way with one another, especially so near the rest of their assembled family, and then pretend it never happened, right?

“Is there any way we can smooth things over?” I ask.

Mateo shakes his head calmly. “We’re not going to smooth things over. He insulted me, and he insulted my wife—on our wedding day, no less. You are the greatest person I have ever met; no one hurls insults at you in front of me. He’ll pay for that.”

“I don’t need him to pay for anything, I just don’t want conflict. I mean, it was incredibly rude, yes, but they’re just words.”

“It’s not about that.” I can tell by the way he says it he’s done with this topic, but I’m still incredibly nervous. “Don’t concern yourself with these sorts of things. I will take care of business and keep myself alive and you safe. That side of my life isn’t your problem. I know you live to protect people,” he says, with a slight roll of his eyes, “but Ben isn’t worth protecting.”

“It’s not about protecting him. I couldn’t care less about Ben. I just don’t want you to do something rash and set off a chain of events that might be avoided if cooler heads prevailed.”

Mateo’s eyes dance with amusement as gazes at me like I’m the most ridiculously amusing person on the planet. “I don’t do rash. Trust me, sweetheart. I have this under control.”

“I’m just saying. Sticks and stones, you know? He’s not even the first person to call me a whore tonight, just the meanest.”

“What?” Mateo tugs me back, vaguely glaring. “Who else called you a whore?”

Since I’d rather play than give him a second target, I nuzzle into him, running my lips across his neck. “I can think of a few times you’ve called me a whore.”

His hand skates up my back until he catches the back of my neck. He anchors me with his grip, slanting his mouth over mine and claiming my lips in a soft yet forceful kiss. I moan softly against his mouth, clinging to his jacket and holding him close.

“That’s different,” he finally says, his gaze burning into mine, scorching me with his intensity. “You are my wife now, Mia; my partner, now and forever. Anyone who has a problem with my wife has a problem with me. Anyone who calls you a whore in my presence should know it’s the last insult they’ll ever fling. Calling you my little whore isn’t an insult.” Running his hand through my hair, he gathers it in his hand and makes a tight fist, yanking my head back. “You love to be my little whore.”