Last Words (Morelli Family 7)

Meg still hasn’t made it to the kitchen when it’s time to get the salads ready and plate the food, so I leave them to do that while I go check with Mateo.

The study door is cracked, so I don’t bother knocking; I just push the door open. Inside the study, I hear the deep voices of two different men—one I recognize as my husband, one that I don’t recognize at all until I have a visual match.

Mateo has already turned his attention to me, but now the man standing across from him turns to investigate the interruption. Unexpectedly, the handsome visage of Rafe Morelli looks back at me.

My gaze jumps from him to Mateo. They’re both smirking at me. I realize it’s probably because my jaw is hanging open—he’s the last person I expected to see tonight. He’s supposed to be in Vegas; what the hell is he doing in Mateo’s study?

With a conspiring wink at me, Rafe intones to Mateo, “At least she seems happy to see me.”

I let go of the door and drift forward, still a little uncertain. “Hey.” I glance to Mateo for explanation, but he offers none, so I look back at Rafe. “I had no idea you were in town.”

Rafe shrugs. “Well, you talked up those Sunday night dinners so much I just had to come see for myself what was so great about them.”

“Hopefully I didn’t oversell the experience,” I toss back, glancing past them at Dante. He lingers by the window, a menacing shadow, away from the other men. As if he can feel my eyes on him, his gaze snaps to mine.

I avert my gaze and look back at Mateo, moving closer to him by instinct. He wraps a protective arm around my waist and tugs me against his side. “Rafe’s in town for a couple weeks. I told him he could stay here with us.”

“Okay, cool.” I smile mildly. “You didn’t mention it to me.”

“I thought it would be a fun surprise.”

“Yes, you’re always full of fun surprises.” I nod my head, but he only looks more amused. “Well, I was just popping in to let everyone know dinner is ready, so you can all make your way to the dining room and we’ll be serving you momentarily.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Rafe says lightly.

That reminds me why I came. I doubt Rafe knows Meg is in the dungeon though, and I don’t want to mention it in front of him if he doesn’t. I’m still trying to convince Mateo to move Rafe here so he can sweep Meg right off her feet (assuming Mateo doesn’t kill her, so I’m not saying there are no obstacles to this plan) but he might be less inclined to pursue her if he knows what she did. So, I bide my time and wait politely at Mateo’s side while they wrap up their boring conversation. Once Rafe is gone, I turn to Mateo and run my fingers down the front of his snowy white dress shirt.

“I have a question for my sexy husband.”

With a knowing smirk, he watches me. “What’s that?”

“Is there already a seat for Rafe at the table? I was thinking maybe we could pull up a chair for him next to Meg.”

Mateo rolls his eyes at my blatant transparency. “Give it up. Rafe and Meg are not happening.”

“But they could if you let them.”

“I don’t think he’s into necrophilia.”

At that, I scowl. “That’s not funny.”

“Who’s joking?” he murmurs back, leaning in to drop a kiss on my forehead. “Let’s not worry about Meg’s love life right now, okay? It’s the least of her concerns.”

“But she likes him, I can tell. And wouldn’t it benefit you to have Meg with someone like Rafe anyway? He could keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t do anything outlandish.”

“No,” he says, mildly. “It would benefit me to eliminate people who might do outlandish things and save myself a lot of money and effort managing them.”

I can’t really argue that. “Well, okay, but wouldn’t this be a good second best option?”

Mateo sighs, beginning to lose patience with my campaign. “Stop worrying about Meg. I assure you, Meg does not worry about you.”

I can’t argue with that either. I hate trying to win arguments with him. It’s like trying to lift a house with my pinky fingers. “But she’s my friend,” I remind him.

“Not anymore. She’s a shitty friend,” he returns, immovably. “You don’t need shitty friends. Be friends with Adrian—I can personally guarantee that if he ever found out someone planned to kidnap you, he would murder them without having to think about it. That’s your new standard for friendship. Nothing less will do.”

“That seems like a high standard,” I point out. “I’ll never have any friends if they all have to be willing to kill for me.”