Once Burned (Morelli Family 3)

“Joey. Suppose he can thank you for that.”

Matt shakes his head, taking a sip of the beer. “Joey was always weak. Like his mother.”

Joey’s mother had been the youngest of Matt’s toys—to my knowledge, anyway. Only 17 when he locked her up in the basement, torturing and impregnating the poor girl. Most women lasted a few years with him, but Stacie barely made it through her pregnancy. She wanted nothing to do with Joey at birth, and she was dead before he turned four months old.

“Does Mateo know?” Matt asks.

“Nope,” I say, before taking a swig of my beer. “Mateo doesn’t know shit, and he’s never going to. I don’t think he’d give a damn at this point—he certainly doesn’t give a damn about you—but just on the off chance, I wouldn’t let you hurt him one more time.”

Matt shakes his head, his lips curving up again. He always has this one smile, the kind that’s meant to fuck with you, to make you think he knows more than you do. “Your mother ruined you,” he states.

I chuckle, shaking my head. Of course now he wants to talk about my mom.

“She was so kind. Too kind. Protective. Such a good friend. Just like you.”

“We must have different definitions of ruination,” I state. “Most people aspire to teach their kids qualities like kindness and loyalty. I wouldn’t expect you to know that.”

“Kindness and loyalty are for followers, not leaders. You could’ve been a leader. Feared. Respected.”

I don’t bother telling him I’m already both of those things. I have nothing to prove to this man.

“You have the look of a man who’s walked through hell, thrown off every demon that dared come at him, and emerged stronger for it. People revere that.”

“Okay,” I say, already growing tired of whatever little game he’s playing. “We both know you don’t like me, so whatever you’re up to, you can stop.”

“I don’t dislike you, Adrian. I’m just disappointed you never met your full potential.”

“I’m sure you can imagine how deeply that wounds me,” I tell him flatly.

“You should have embraced your darkness,” he tells me, the excitement brewing in his eyes telling me we’re approaching his point. His grand finale. I’ll let him get it out, then I’m shoving that cake down his throat. “You’ve worked so hard over the years for Mateo, haven’t you? Cleaning up his messes. Building his empire. Ensuring that he keeps everything I left him. Giving him more power, more wealth—building him up and up and up, and what’s he done for you?”

Turning me on Mateo? Really? That’s his play?

I have to smile. “You’ve lost your touch, old man.”

“Do you remember what your father did for a living, Adrian? Before I killed him?”

I don’t feel pain, but I still feel anger. My smile melts right off, twisting into something less pleasant. Something more like his.

“He was a banker,” he tells me, nodding. “A banker.”

“I’ll make a note in my scrapbook,” I reply.

“Do you feel like a banker’s son, Adrian?”

Suddenly uncomfortable, I take another sip of my beer.

“Your mother and Belle, they became good friends, you remember? And your mother, your protective, sweet mother… sometimes she’d try to intervene when my temper got the best of me. To protect Belle. To… divert my attention.”

My heart beats a little faster, but I keep my face expressionless. He’s not going where I think he’s going with this. I’ll jam that fork down his fucking throat.

“You’re not a banker’s son, Adrian.” The words slide off his tongue, sick pleasure dancing in his eyes. “You’re mine.”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying. He has to be lying, because there isn’t a lot that bothers me, but that? That would gut me.

There’s nothing in the whole world I want less than to be a Morelli.

But he knows that, I remind myself. He knows that. I’m not his secret son. Matt’s just a liar, and maybe he’s trying one last ditch effort to save his own skin, or maybe he just wants to make one last splash before he dies. His motive doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I don’t let him get to me—because he’s just a rotten liar. That’s all.

His brown eyes practically glow as he awaits my response. So I grin, cocking my head at him. “That’s the best you got, huh? You think we’re in Star Wars now?” I snort, shaking my head and doing my best Darth Vader impression, “’Luke, I am your father.’”

He hates being made fun of. The excitement in his eyes only moments ago has turned to pure loathing, and at least that I can deal with.

I smile, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Matt. I’m sorry. I should’ve just let you have that one. Let’s have a do-over.” I wipe my face clear, launching forward, dramatically ducking my head and staring at the coffee table like my whole life’s just been undone. “You’re… you’re my real father? Everything I’ve known is a lie? I… I’m two months older than Mateo—everything that’s his should be mine? I’m the eldest son of Matt Morelli?” I clasp my heart, falling back against the couch.