Accidental Witness (Morelli Family 1)

“Will Vince be there?”

“No.”

I hesitate, not wanting him to take my next statement as any sort of challenge. “He won’t want me to go.”

Mateo rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

I really don’t want to put Vince through this. I mean, I don’t want to do it to begin with, but I certainly don’t want to leave him all night to wonder if Mateo’s doing… Mateo things.

I don’t know how to say any of this. There would be no point. It’s nothing he doesn’t already know; he just doesn’t care. What I don’t want to do is make him feel he has a point to prove about my obedience.

I wish I could make him promise me I’ll be safe, but he doesn’t have to. He wasn’t requesting my presence, he was telling me where I would be going. Finally, I nod. “All right.”

This pleases him, and he gives me another agreeable smile. My stomach turns over, because for some sick reason, it brings me relief to have pleased him.

“Is that all?” I ask, wanting to get out of here.

“Yes,” he says, easily. “Cherie will get you ready. I believe Maria already brought something up for you to wear.” Barely pausing a second, he adds, “I’ll give Vince something to keep him occupied. Tell him where you’ll be or don’t.”

A shiver goes down my spine at that, at the secrecy implied. I don’t want to have secrets with this man, especially not secrets from Vince.

Ignoring that temptation, knowing it would just blow up in my face later, I say, “No. I’ll tell him.”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “Suit yourself.”

Our business complete, he allows me to leave. On the other side, I lean heavily against the wall, my mind racing a million different ways. I was dreading seeing him again, being alone with him—have been, since Sunday night. It feels bizarrely comforting, despite his casual threats, that everything was… fairly normal. He didn’t seem angry at me. He didn’t seem resentful or put out. His reaction is nothing like Vince’s—and I feel so relieved. It doesn’t make sense, but I don’t dread the next time I’ll see him as much.

But that distresses me. Relief distresses me, because I shouldn’t be relieved. I hate him. He’s a terrible human being who manipulates and controls everyone around him—and I’m damn sure no exception.

There’s something… addictive about him though. Something that leaves me craving the approval of a man I hate.

How fucked up is that?

More unsettled than I had been when I knew I was coming to meet him, I head for the dining room to get ready for dinner.

—

Vince sits on the edge of the bed, watching Cherie curl my hair.

Nobody speaks. Well, occasionally Cherie, when she has to tell me to tilt or not move my head, but Vince and I are both silent.

Finally finished, she grabs hair spray and coats my hair.

“Is that necessary? She’s not going to the fucking prom,” Vince says, understandably aggravated.

I’m sort of regretting not taking Mateo up on his offer to keep Vince busy. Maybe I should have asked him to, even though I was telling Vince. It’s not helping anyone to have him sitting here, watching Cherie doll me up on orders from Mateo, none of us knowing exactly what I’m walking into, but all of us aware of what could happen.

Cherie understands, so she doesn’t say anything in response.

“Let’s grab the outfit. Where’d you put it?”

“It’s still in the bag,” I tell her. “I put it in the closet after dinner last night.”

A few minutes later, the outfit is out of the bag and I am horrified. Vince’s temper, thus far controlled, seems like it’s going to explode any second.

“That’s what you’re supposed to wear,” he says, each word angrier than the last.

I understand why. Unlike the classy dresses he bought me for dinner, this outfit is just plain trash. The fire engine red corset top is… well, a corset. There’s a skimpy black skirt that may not even cover my ass, and a pair of thigh-high, fishnet stockings to finish off the “$25 for a blow job, $100 for an hour” look I’m apparently going for.

“He’s just goading you, probably,” I tell him.

“They’re just clothes,” Cherie adds, trying to help.

Vince is unimpressed by our attempts.

I’m not at all looking forward to putting this on, so I take it in the bathroom, wanting to see the damage first. It’s not good. I do what I can to loosen the corset and take the attention off my boobs, but it’s ineffective. Even a gay man would have to look right at them on sight.

Why is he doing this?

Giving up on the impossible, I open the bathroom door and march out to the firing squad.

Vince’s eyes get the lusty look I recognize, but it’s struggling with his short fuse, and the short fuse is winning.