Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

There are white gift boxes on the bed. Five of them.

“What are those?”

Vince shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Take a look.”

I approach the bed like there might be rattlesnakes inside the boxes. I don’t even want to sit there—like somehow that will make it mine. Like I’ll be cheating on my bed in my own room at Mateo’s house. So I remain standing and lift the lid off one of the smaller boxes.

It’s a pink lacy bra and panties set. That makes me a lot less excited to open the next ones, but I do. There are five boxes in all—three bra and panty sets, one skimpy bikini, and a coral babydoll nightie with sheer panels and a fancy thong.

Lifting my chin, I stare at the items and refuse to speak. Mostly because I want to scream at him. I want to hurl angry, vicious words at him. Normally presents make me feel appreciated, but these make me feel degraded. These bestow the weight of expectations I cannot meet, even if I wanted to—which I also don’t. But that’s frankly beside the point. I would anyway, if I belonged to no one and it would get me the fuck out of here. But I belong to someone, and not just anyone—Mateo Morelli.

The last woman who cheated on Mateo died for it.

And I would frankly rather die than break Mateo’s heart.

I can’t let Vince touch me. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I know Mateo loves me, but Meg and I are both aware of who he is. We both know his rules and limitations. Life is good right now because we respect those rules.

I don’t know what Mateo’s rules are in this scenario. Strangely enough, we never discussed how I should conduct myself, should I ever be kidnapped by a man who wanted to revenge fuck me.

I know how Vince would react. I remember that very clearly.

I also know Mateo will come for me eventually, so I’ll have to answer for whatever happens here. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but I know he’ll come rescue me. He always does. Usually Mateo is the one who puts me in the perilous scenario I need to be saved from, but he always comes for me.

Finally I say, “Kind of thought there might be clothes in there.”

“You don’t like them?”

“They’re… pretty, but they’re underwear. I didn’t exactly have time to pack,” I point out, indicating the jeans and striped long-sleeve shirt I’m currently wearing. “This is literally all I have with me. What am I supposed to wear?”

Now he smiles—well, he doesn’t smile, exactly, because it’s too mean to be a smile, and not mischievous enough to be a smirk. I don’t know what the fuck to call the look on his face, but it makes anxiety crawl down my spine. “These,” he says, simply.

“And what am I supposed to wear over these?”

“Nothing.”

My gaze drops to the marble floor. “So, you brought me here to humiliate me?”

He moves closer, his eyes moving over my body like I’m wearing one of the new lingerie sets instead of casual clothing. “Don’t you like being humiliated?”

My eyes narrow with rebellion “Not by you,” I fling back.

That pisses him off. I figured it would, but I don’t care. I want to piss him off. He’s pissing me off.

“What is your end game here?” I demand. “You want to punish me? Do you hate me that much? Why not just move on if you hate me so much? Why can’t you ever just let anything go? Why do you have to dwell and hold onto shit that can only hurt you? You never had to see me again. I was gone from your life—completely gone. You could have started over with someone new. I could’ve been a fucking ghost. Why this? Why, Vince?”

He doesn’t like my questions and he doesn’t like my reaction to his gifts, so he sweeps his arm across the bed and knocks half of them onto the floor. The other two he picks up and hurls against the wall.

“Nothing I do is ever fucking good enough for you, is it, Mia?”

“I don’t want you, Vince. Don’t you understand? It isn’t about you not being good enough, we just aren’t right for each other. We aren’t good together. We bring out the worst in each other.”

“Bullshit,” he flings back, glaring at me. “We were good together until he came along.”

“That may be true,” I allow, nodding. “But then he came along. And he changed everything between us, and we were never good again. And we never will be again, because now I’ve met him, and he’s right for me. I love him. I don’t just love the things he does, I don’t love the fancy house or the expensive gifts—I would live in a tool shed with him and wear clothing from a fucking thrift store, Vince. It’s Mateo I love, not his stuff.”