Once Burned (Morelli Family 3)

When we get home, it’s too early for bed, so Elise changes into her pajamas and goes in the bedroom, cracking open her literature book to read some Jane Eyre.

I don’t think I’m invited until she starts reading aloud, even though I’m still in the living room.

I duck my head in and she pauses, glancing up at me. “Want me to start over?”

I shake my head, since I already know what I missed. “Go ahead.”

She nods and picks up where she left off, reading as I peel off this goddamn suit and pull on a more comfortable T-shirt instead. It’s still hot as hell in this apartment for some reason, but I pull on sleep pants and climb in beside her.

When she gets to the end of the chapter, she puts her hand between the pages and closes the book, looking over at me. “Don’t you own shorts?”

I smile slightly. “I have a pair, but I don’t wear them.”

“It’s really warm in here tonight; you’re going to burn up.”

The burn scars creep down my hip, down my leg, but she’s never seen me out of pants, so she doesn’t know that. I just shrug, nodding toward the book. “Come on, don’t keep me in suspense.”

She cracks a smile, opening the book up. The sound of her voice relaxes me, melting away my troubles, making me forget about the stress of the day.

—

I don’t do a damn thing for Mateo on Monday.

I planned to, after Elise finished reading last night and curled up in our bed, her long blonde hair spread out across the pillow. Because I don’t want to fight him. I don’t know if I can win, and I have a hell of a lot more to lose now than I used to.

But then I dreamed about them all night. When I closed my eyes, Mateo’s hands were roaming every inch of her perfect body, his mouth on her neck, her eyes closed in rapturous pleasure. Him, with his goddamn Disney prince face, with his pretty gifts and his unmarred body, with his power and his wealth and his disregard for what’s right—he had no problem pouncing on Elise’s attraction to authority, I’ll tell you that.

When I woke up, I couldn’t stomach helping him. Sure, maybe another day where I don’t ferret out the rats in his own circle could bring him another day closer to his own demise, but you know what, the bastard dug his own grave. If someone else puts him in it while I take a personal day, that’s just too damn bad.

I’m calm by the time I head home. I’ve prowled the city all day, doing not a damn thing, and it was nice. My aggression has largely melted away. At a certain point I even thought about answering some of the calls I’m ignoring, because this isn’t a great time for it. With the Castellanos thing coming up Thursday, I should be focused, not scattered, not rebelling.

I walk through the door, expecting Elise to probably be making dinner. I put on a suit today even though I didn’t need to, and that reminds me I need to go to the dry cleaner.

As soon as I walk in, Elise lights up like a Christmas tree. She comes over and throws her arms around me, so close to my face I think she might kiss me, and my heart nearly gives out. She doesn’t, she just grins at me, but like I’m a goddamn prince.

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“Thank you,” she says, a huge grin lighting up her beautiful face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I don’t know why I’m being thanked. I try to remember if I did anything worth any measure of gratitude before I left this morning, let alone this level, but I come up blank.

She lets go of me and steps back, all but skipping to the counter. My heart stutters then sinks when she leans down and smells a huge bouquet of pink and lavender roses. They’re in a cube vase, tinted purple, and I can see the card sticking out of it.

The white card, with the gold edges.

Mateo’s cards.

I go to it like a magnet to a refrigerator door, plucking it from the flower arrangement and reading it.

“That dress. Oh, my god. I’ve never seen a prettier dress in my whole life.”

She keeps talking, but the sound of her voice is drowned out by the tidal wave of rage crashing through my veins.

“I didn’t even know Aladdin was playing,” she gushes, clutching an envelope, still grinning at me, still not catching on that I have no idea what the hell any of this is.

Well, I do.

Of course I do.

But she doesn’t. She apparently thinks all of this is from me. Because she doesn’t recognize his card.

I’m going to meet him at the gym tomorrow. Take him up on that open invitation. Because I’m going to beat the living fuck out of him.