Chapter Twenty Six
Vince holds me for the rest of the night. I half expect someone to come summon at least one of us, but it never happens. I fall asleep sometime before the sun rises, but I’m still exhausted when I hear Vince’s alarm.
I wait for him to turn it off, but after a minute, I roll over and see he isn’t there. I reach over to turn the damn thing off myself, rubbing my temple as my head throbs. It’s going to be a long day.
Elise brings me breakfast, which she normally doesn’t, so I figure one of them must have told her to. I don’t ask which one. I don’t care.
I can’t feel anything again today. Maybe I’ll snap out of it once I wake up, but right now? Nope.
I don’t seek anyone out for a ride to school. There’s enough time to walk and I could use the fresh air.
I’m halfway to school when I hear the car behind me, slowing to a stop. No stop sign in sight, so my stomach sinks with dread, expecting to look over and see Mateo, or at the very least, Adrian.
When I look, however, there are two men I don’t recognize. My heartbeat skitters, wondering if these are Morelli flunkies, here to finish me off.
There are two men in the sleek white car, one in a black leather jacket and a complexion a shade or so darker than Cherie’s with a bushy black mustache and pudgy apple cheeks. The other man has ruddy cheeks and wears a black leather jacket, his gut hanging over a pair of extremely unfashionable blue jeans.
“Mia Mitchell?” Potbelly says.
I cut a look in their direction, clutching my phone in my pocket.
“Ma’am, are you Mia Mitchell?”
“No,” I reply.
Pressing his lips together, he says, “Ma’am, we know you are.”
“Then why ask?” I respond, picking up the pace.
The other man speaks up, “Miss Mitchell, we just need to ask you a few questions.”
I finally stop, stomach dropping as Potbelly holds up a badge for me to see. “Now, please.”
“Why?” I ask, even though I can guess.
“We have a few questions, ma’am, just a few questions. It’ll only take a few moments of your time.”
Swallowing, casting a gaze over my shoulder, I tell him, “I’ll be late to school.”
“Hop on in, we’ll give you a ride.”
My eyes widen in horror. “No! No, not… I can’t.”
“Let me make it easy for you, Miss Mitchell. You can get in the car with us now and answer a few questions, then be on your way to school, or we can take you down to the station for questioning instead. Whichever’s easiest for you.”
I remain on the sidewalk, my eyes searching the road behind me, making sure Mateo didn’t send anyone to follow me. Fear pierces the veil of numbness, ripping a hole down the middle and shedding it.
“I can’t talk to you. I don’t know anything.”
Throwing the car in park, Apple Cheeks waits while Potbelly opens the car door. “All right, down to the station it is.”
“No,” I say quickly, heart hammering. “No, I’ll get in the car.”
I look one last time before I open the back door and climb inside. Shifting my backpack in my lap, I try to calm my racing heart, afraid they’ll be able to see how nervous I am.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say.
“No, we didn’t think you did, Miss Mitchell. Thing is, it’s come to our attention you’ve been spending time with the Morelli family lately.”
“Is that a crime?” I ask.
Potbelly chooses his words carefully. “Well, no. But it might not surprise you to hear they’re being investigated for several cases of wrongdoing. We looked into you, Miss Mitchell, and it just happens that you live right next door to one of those investigations.”
Fear ties my stomach into knots, thinking of Vince. Thinking of the night of the fire, then the night he broke in to threaten me. God, what I’d give to go back to that being the scariest part of my day.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I tell them.
He reads off the address to the house next door to mine. “There’s nothing you could tell us about the fire that happened at that address?”
“It was tragic,” I say, unhelpfully. “I heard they were doing drugs or something.”
“Actually, they were drug dealers. For a, I guess what you’d call a ‘rival’ family. Odd coincidence, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know anything,” I state, hugging my backpack against my chest. “I didn’t know my neighbors well and I had no idea they were any kind of rivals or whatever to… anyone, so I’m afraid I can’t be much help.”
“What’s your relationship to Vince Morelli?” Apple Cheeks asks.
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“And as your boyfriend, I can see how you might feel badly talking to us about him, but this is important, Miss Mitchell. If you don’t want to help us, things could get bad for you.”
“I did nothing wrong. You can’t threaten me.”
“That’s true,” Potbelly drawls. “However, turns out your mom came into some money pretty unexpectedly, and… well, as much as I’d hate to have to involve her, it might be worth looking into.”
Narrowing my eyes, I reiterate, “I don’t know anything about the fire.”
“That’s too bad. What about anything else? Even if you don’t know about the fire, maybe you know something else that could help us? Why don’t you think real hard? Anything.”
Apple Cheeks chimes in, a little softer. “We can keep you safe, Mia. If your concern is that there would be retaliation, we can guarantee you that won’t happen.”
Shaking my head, I say, “You can’t guarantee that.”
“We can. There are programs in place to protect people like you, Miss Mitchell. We could keep you safe all the way up to testifying, and forever after. With your help, we could put Mateo Morelli behind bars, and you and your family would never be in a lick of danger for it.”
Easing back in the seat, I mull over those words. What if that’s true? There’s witness protection, right? What if I really could give them dirt on Mateo, and just like that, he’d be out of my life?
Vince would probably go down with him, though. Even after last night, I don’t want that.
But Mateo…. Mateo would deserve it.
They’d probably go easier on Vince than him anyway—Vince is small potatoes. Mateo’s the one they want. Maybe they would even work with me to spare Vince in exchange for giving them Mateo. And I probably could—with what Adrian said in front of me. I could tie Mateo himself directly to it.
“I know you’re angry right now, hurt, scared, but you should know this doesn’t change anything. Like me or hate me, you will remain loyal to me. You speak a word about anything you shouldn’t, and I will end you.”
The memory of Mateo’s threat—uttered mere moments after violating me—causes gooseflesh to rise on my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say, lowly. “I don’t know a single thing that could be of use to you.”
“Ma’am, your mother—”
“Investigate her if you have to,” I interrupt, shoving open the door. “I can’t help you.”
I hope it’s over once I’m outside of the car, but Potbelly holds out a business card for me to take. “Well, why don’t you take this, just in case you remember anything? Maybe you’ll hear something we can use in the future.”
I stare at the card, but I know I can’t take it. Forget the possibility of somebody finding it—if I have that in my possession and Mateo assaults me again, I might be tempted to call.
Swallowing, I shake my head and walk away.
---
Don’t go to the bakery after school. Taking you to dinner. Wear whatever you want.
I get the text from Vince at lunch.
My initial response is uncertainty—it’s already been a hell of a day, and I haven’t even left school yet. I don’t really want to face Mateo though, particularly after last night, so I don’t reject his offer.
Cherie takes me home after school, and since I know I’m doing dinner with Vince, I go to our room to do my homework.
A little after four, Vince shows up.
“You ready to go?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, flipping my textbook closed. When I stand and turn to face him, however, I’m caught off guard. Vince’s eye appears to be swollen, and his lip is split. Rushing over to him, I reach out a hand to touch him, but stop short, figuring it might hurt. “Oh, my God, Vince. What happened?”
He shakes his head like it doesn’t matter. “I’m fine.”
“Did someone hit you?”
“I’m fine. It was nothing.”
“Who did this?” My first thought, honestly, is Adrian. He seems to be the only decent one around here, and even he isn’t decent enough to stop any of it. Then again, I don’t know if he’d actually hit Vince. He doesn’t tread carefully around the Morelli men like everyone else, but that may be taking things too far.
“It was just sparring,” he says dismissively.
“Sparring?” I ask, quirking a skeptical eyebrow.
“I think Mateo just really wanted to punch me in the face. It was at the gym. It’s fine.”
I’m surprised to hear it was Mateo, though I guess maybe it’s payback for his little scene at the table yesterday. If so, it’s a light enough retaliation. I guess that’s why Vince doesn’t care.
“I feel like for future reference, not sparring with him would be a good idea,” I advise.
Rolling his eyes, he says, “He’d still punch me if he wanted to. Mateo does what he wants, Mia. Don’t worry about it. At worst, it may get ugly in a couple days.” Nodding toward the door, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”
Grabbing my purse from the floor, I follow him out. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he tells me, surprising me by reaching down and taking my hand.
I offer a tentative smile when he looks over at me, but I’m confused. We haven’t been out on an actual date since I moved in, and obviously last night he was not in the mood to wine and dine me.
I think he feels guilty. Which… well, I guess he should.
I watch out the window as he drives, trying to guess where we might be going, but I have no idea. When he finally pulls into a parking area, it’s outside an apartment complex.
“This is where we’re eating?” I ask, confused.
Instead of answering me, he takes me by the hand again and leads me inside.
I’m surprised again when he pauses outside room 602 and uses a key.
Then he opens the door and gestures for me to go inside. Thoroughly confused, I look around. It’s sparsely furnished, but as soon as I spot the kitchen, I see pots and cans of food, a bag of flour, spices, and some kind of silver machine with a crank handle. Across the kitchen in the corner there’s a small round table with two chairs, an unlit candle at the center, already set for two.
A smile spreading across my face, I ask, “What is this?”
“I asked Joey if I could borrow his apartment for the evening. I seem to remember we’re way overdue for a spaghetti dinner.”
Recalling the time he bought my groceries and then I asked him to leave, I nod my head. “I guess we are.”
“And I know you just use the readymade stuff, but I can’t eat spaghetti sauce from a jar. It just isn’t right.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Don’t be a spaghetti snob; it’s good!”
“Well, I’m going to show you how to make your own spaghetti sauce, and we’re making our own pasta. We’ll see which one’s better.”
“This is nice,” I tell him, feeling lighter than I have in a while.
Taking my hand, he lifts it and places a light kiss to my knuckles. “Good. After dinner, we’ve got the living room to ourselves—any movie you want. At least, any movie that Joey has that you want.”
“I’m sure I’ll be overwhelmed by the selection,” I assure him.
“I hope you like Jason Statham.”
Snorting, I respond, “Who doesn’t?”
A few minutes later, washed up and ingredients sorted, Vince and I start dinner.
“I’ve never cooked with a guy before,” I tell him, mincing garlic.
“Weird, me neither.”
I roll my eyes at him. “That’s because in your family only women cook.”
Lifting an eyebrow as if to admit his inability to argue that, he says, “Well, this is my mom’s recipe, so I know it’s good.”
“You never told me about your mom.”
His demeanor dims a little, and I feel him want to retreat. To his credit, he doesn’t. “Like most Morelli women, she got trapped into a relationship with one of us bastards and couldn’t get out.”
“Ah,” I murmur, nodding. “How did she die?”
“Pills. Killed herself.”
My head snaps up. “Oh, Jesus. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”
He dumps a can of diced tomatoes into the pot. “I always told myself I wouldn’t be like him. Swore it. I didn’t want to become someone I hated.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking about Mateo or his father, but I really don’t want to bring up the former if he’s not talking about him, so I guess, “Your dad?”
He nods. “I’d never let him meet you. He’s garbage.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re not like him, then,” I say easily, lifting the chopping board and taking it over to the pot, scraping the garlic in.
“I was last night,” he states, quietly.
Putting the cutting board and knife down on the counter, I wrap an arm around him and give him a squeeze. “No.”
“Yes. Eighteen years ago, he did to Maria what I did to you, and every day I see Cherie it’s a reminder of the kind of man I don’t want to be.”
That stuns me. Mateo had filled me in on their relation, but he certainly hadn’t indicated it had been non-consensual. I just figured he had an affair with the maid—typical.
“Your dad and Maria weren’t…?”
“She hated him,” Vince states. “He wanted her anyway. Morelli men take what they want.”
I don’t know what to say to that. It’s not like I haven’t seen proof of precisely that since joining their fucked up family.
“I don’t want to be like that, Mia.”
“Then don’t,” I say simply.
“I’m so sorry for last night,” he says, meeting my gaze.
“I know. It’s okay. We don’t have to… It’s over. I forgive you. We’re okay. I just want us to get past everything. I don’t want to dwell.”
“No matter what happens, nothing like that will ever happen to you again at my hands.”
Offering a supportive smile, I nod. “I know.”
“And you were right about what you said, too. Mateo can’t get between us unless we let him. I’m not gonna let him anymore.”
“Neither am I,” I state.
Leaning in to touch his forehead against mine, Vince asks, “Can I kiss you?”
Smiling slightly, I tell him, “Always.”