Chapter Twenty Four
Vince
After dinner, I hang around talking to Alec for a few minutes until Mia and Mateo separate. He heads off with Adrian and Mia goes alone into the kitchen.
I wait until I can get away by myself, then I slip inside. Tonight she stands in front of the sink, dressed up in a white and gold glittery dress with red-soled heels on her feet, scrubbing a pan until it’s clean. This is how she looked that first night I snuck into her house, though without any of the wealth back then. The sight of her now strikes a bittersweet chord. Why is she even helping clean up? There are people to do that here.
Despite being one of the wealthiest women in Chicago, Mia grabs a sponge off the edge of the sink and scrubs a dirty pot.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
Her head snaps up in surprise. Wariness briefly flits across her pretty features, but then she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I know. I’m just helping so it gets done faster and everyone can relax.”
I shake my head at her. “You never change, do you?”
Her smile slips. “I’ve changed. We’ve all changed.” She looks down into the sink and her hair falls forward in her face. Without giving it much thought, I reach out and catch the chunk of hair, tucking it behind her ear.
The tenderness catches her off guard. She looks over at me and her eyes shine again. I smile faintly. “Now why are you sad?”
“I’m not sad,” she says, shaking her head and blinking the moisture away. “I am pregnant again, and my hormones are slightly out of whack, but… not sad.”
I did not know that. The knowledge almost amuses me. “He had something to prove, huh?”
“Apparently,” she says, smothering a smile and reaching forward to turn off the faucet. “I’m so glad you found Carly. You seem really happy with her.”
“I am happy with her.”
“That’s what I wanted for you. Desperately. After Vegas, I wasn’t sure…. I felt so horrible. I felt like I’d broken you.”
I shake my head, crossing my arms and looking down at the Tuscan tile. “Only you would worry about that after what I did to you. I hurt you, and you worry about hurting my feelings. Same old Mia, just dressed up in more expensive clothing.”
“And better shoes.”
I reach for her wrist, turning her around and dragging her into my arms. She hesitates for a split second, but then she melts against my chest, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me back. I lean in near her ear. I know there are fucking cameras in this room, and this moment is mine, so I murmur quietly, “I’m so sorry, Mia.”
She nods her head against my chest, but doesn’t speak. I take her silence to mean she’s probably all teary again. I hear her sniffling, confirming my suspicions. “I’m gonna ruin your shirt,” she murmurs.
I chuckle, rubbing her back. “That’s all right. I’ve ruined more than a shirt in my time.”
She clings a little harder, sniffling again, and the stab I expected earlier finally reaches me. There’s no drug more addictive than the feeling of Mia needing you, and even though I’m clean now, even though I know this isn’t real, just a sentimental reaction to this moment, I still feel the hit. I know I’m gonna miss her, even if I’m happier without her. I know she’ll think of me sometimes when she looks at Dom, even if she happily raises him with Mateo.
Some people get clean breaks, but we never could have; we’re too messy.
I wish we’d spent our time together better. I wish I’d been less of an asshole. I wish Mateo had left us alone. I wish we had more good memories instead of so many bad ones. More milkshakes and movies, less resentment and fighting. I loved her so fucking much, and I don’t know if I ever showed her. She told me last year she thought I’d died thinking she didn’t love me, and this is the first time I’ve ever understood what that probably felt like.
The longer I hold her, the less focused I am on how everything happened for a reason and the more tempted I am to sink into regret. The past that I thought would be the death of me threatens to suck me back in.
I hate to, but I let go of Mia, moving my hands to her shoulders so I can pull her back. For someone so small and loving, she sure has a black hole of utter destruction inside of her. I always make the mistake of thinking I can bask in her love, but it destroys me every time.
I guess it’s good Mateo’s capable of harnessing her since she can’t harness it herself. Not that he’s someone who should be responsible for more power. He could use Mia to destroy people, if he really wanted to.
I resist the urge to care about this shit. I pull back and take a breath while Mia brushes away tears.
“Well, shit.”
I smirk. “Pretty much.”
“Every time you hug me I fall to pieces,” she states, smiling faintly. “I don’t think we’re allowed to hug anymore.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules anyway.”
Mia turns back to the counter, bracing her weight on the edge. “I should finish these dishes.”
“Or you could let the maids do it, but sure, whatever.”
She grabs the sponge again like she’s going to ignore my practical advice and wash dishes anyway. It reminds me of when we lived together. It makes me think of another version of life, a life where things had been done differently in some way or other. A life where I stood in the kitchen with her while she cleaned up after dinner, but it wasn’t in this mansion and our son wasn’t in the other room, probably being looked after by a nanny. This isn’t a stolen moment. This life is ours. I played smarter. I beat Mateo. I got Mia. We’re raising our son together. We’ll spend this and every Easter together because we’re a family.
Fuck.
Since she can’t read my thoughts, Mia is not on this track. She’s in the present. So I know she means no harm when she suddenly drops the sponge and spins around, leaning back against the counter and says, “Since we’re breaking the rules tonight, you want to break one more?”
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, tentatively.
“Well… Dom doesn’t have to go to bed for a couple more hours and Mateo and Adrian have some work to do. If you wanted to, we could probably take him to the playroom for a little bit before he has to go to sleep. Totally up to you.”
God, that is tempting.
On one hand, I only have a few days to see my son—ever. I should take advantage of every second that I can see him while I’m here.
On the other, I’m already struggling and I’ve been in this kitchen with her for not quite five minutes. It’s hard to hate her and it’s hard not to. Being around Mia is just hard.
“I really, really wish I could do that, but I need to… I just, I need a breather tonight. I have a relationship I’m trying not to fuck up, and…”
Mia nods quickly. “Oh, sure. Yeah, I get it. Sorry, I was just trying—”
“No, I know. It’s not you, it’s… I mean, it is, but it’s not your fault. I need to leave you to do your dishes or whatever.”
Mia nods again, with less enthusiasm. “Sorry.”
“But hey, if you still feel like breaking some rules tomorrow, count me in.”
She smiles. “Okay. I’ll let you know.”
I flee the kitchen for the safety of the Mia-free dining room. Carly is leaning against the table, playing on her phone while she waits for me. Seeing her feels like seeing a beacon of light, like I’m a ship caught up in a storm, feeling lost for a moment, like I’ll never find home—and then I see her, and I can see again. The path to safety is clear, and it’s giving me my favorite sultry little smile.
“All done?” she asks, pushing off the table.
I nod, but I don’t stop until I have my arms around her waist. I pull her close and kiss her. She’s faintly surprised, but she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back.
“Uh oh, is this the shampoo situation all over again?” she asks, lightly.
I roll my eyes. “No. I’m just happy to see you.”
“Mm hmm.” She doesn’t seem to believe me, but she reaches down and takes my hand anyway. “I think we should go out on the town. I think a break away from Morelli manor would do you some good.”
“Agreed.”
Carly nods and pulls her phone back out. Since we don’t have a car here, we have to call for one. “So, what did you two talk about? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I just felt like I needed to apologize to her.”
Carly shoots me a smile. “I’m so proud of you.”
---
Carly is hitting the vodka and cranberry hard tonight.
I might have noticed earlier, but I am similarly attacking the whiskey like I’ll get a prize if I finish the bottle myself.
“Alcohol is the fucking best,” Carly informs me, dipping down with a giggle to retrieve her glass and tip it back.
“It really is,” I agree, staring at the amber liquid like it’s my soul mate. “I swear to God, I wouldn’t have survived without it. I would’ve gone on a rage bender years ago.”
“I’m glad you’re not usually an angry drunk,” she informs me. “Angry drunks are the worst.”
“I’ve been an angry drunk before, but I think I was just angry, period.”
She tips back her glass, draining the rest of it. Standing up, she pushes her boobs up and leans over the bar. “Hey, sweetie. When you get a minute, I’m gonna need another.”
I grin stupidly. “Sweetie? You call people sweetie?”
“Drunk Carly calls men sweetie. Drunk Carly usually doesn’t pay for her own drinks either, but whatever.”
“You don’t have to buy your drinks. I’ll buy your drinks. I’ve got a stupid fucking inheritance coming.”
“I know. I sort of hate that. Is that weird?”
“Probably. Why do you hate it?”
The bartender comes over to bring Carly her drink, and she orders me one while he’s over here. Then she sits back down and turns her attention back to me. “Because money makes everything fucking complicated. If you like a guy who’s dead broke, no one questions you. But if you like a guy who comes with money, you’re a gold-digging floozy. Even if his money has nothing to do with it, even if you’d like him regardless, once money is involved, it’s automatically about money—even if it isn’t.”
I crack a smile. “You liked me when you thought I was a terrible burglar who couldn’t afford to heat his apartment. And you better more than like me,” I tell her, grabbing her wrist and yanking her into my lap. She twists until she’s straddling me, leaning her forehead against mine.
“I have so many regrets,” she murmurs.
“You can’t have regrets,” I tell her, keeping her close. “You’re the one who says everything happens for a reason.”
“Sober Carly says that. Drunk Carly has regrets,” she announces.
“What are your regrets?”
“Can’t tell you,” she mutters, reaching back for her drink and taking a sip. She manages to put it back down without spilling any, then she turns her attention back to me, wiggling her hips and grinding against me. “We could do more fun things than talk.”
My hands slide down to cup her ass, pulling her against me. “We could. Probably not right here in front of all these people, though.”
“Let’s get drunk. Or, wait, we’re already drunk. Let’s finish our alcohol and get a hotel room. Let’s not go back to that house tonight. We can go back tomorrow.”
“I don’t know if we’re allowed,” I tell her.
“Fuck that,” she says, suddenly spirited. “Mateo isn’t our keeper! We’re getting a hotel room,” she decides, climbing gracelessly off my lap and grabbing her drink. The bartender is still over here, so she takes a break from gulping her drink to say, “We need to close our tab, please.”
I’ve had enough alcohol to agree this is a great idea. We should break all the rules.
Nope, thinking about that brings me back to Mia. A burst of anger pierces the alcohol fog, but I don’t know why I’m angry.
“People can have leftover feelings, right?” I ask Carly.
“Huh?”
The music in here is really loud and she’s waiting at the counter for the bill. I lean forward to wait with her so she can hear me better. “Leftover feelings. You’re good at all that psychobabble bullshit. Can people have leftover feelings that don’t mean anything?”
Carly grimaces, grabbing her cup and taking another gulp. Once she swallows it, she nods. “They can, but you don’t have leftover feelings. You have an addiction. Mia’s not a person to you, she’s… something else. A substance. An idea. A feeling. You love to chase her, but you’ll always be disappointed when you catch her. It’s not her you love. It’s just an idea.”
“I don’t love her, I love you.”
“Another idea,” she mutters.
I scowl at her. “Hey. No. You’re not an idea. It’s not the same with you. We’re happy together.”
“Yes, we’re approaching blackout drunk in a city neither one of us should be in so we don’t have to go back to Hell house, where your ex-obsession is probably cuddling your rape baby right now. This is what happiness looks like, ladies and gents. Take a picture so you can post it somewhere with the goals hashtag!”
“Whoa, that’s a whole lot of… I don’t feel like dealing with any of that right now,” I inform her honestly, taking a drink of my whiskey.
“Can I be honest? I love that you’re a mess. It doesn’t even bother me. It makes me feel better about being a mess. Sometimes. Other times it makes me feel like an asshole and a fraud.”
“You’re the realest person I’ve ever known,” I inform her.
“That’s because you were raised in a bubble of toxicity. That I’m normal to you is sad.”
I shake my head, finishing my drink and pulling out my wallet. “Man, drunk Carly does not hold back.”
“I love being with you, but I hate the feeling that I’m taking advantage of you. I hate the certainty that there are things you could find out that would just… they’d make you walk away.”
“Nah. I’m not walking away. I know this week is hard, I’m sorry about that, but nothing has changed between us. Not for me, anyway. I hope not for you.” I blink a few times to focus on the bill, second guess how big a number that is, then grab enough money to pay it anyway. Oh well. Fuck it. Mateo pays thousands of dollars for a single bottle of alcohol, I can blow a few hundred on drinks.
We better get some water on the way to the hotel so we don’t die.
“We had a lot to drink,” I inform Carly.
She nods, pleased. “He took ‘keep ‘em coming’ very literally and I love that in a bartender and a boyfriend.”
“How come Laurel couldn’t come out?” I ask, realizing she was supposed to call her or text her when we first got here.
“I didn’t ask her to. I felt like my lips were going to be loose tonight and Laurel doesn’t know I was a whore for a minute, so I didn’t want to accidentally tell her.”
I slide my hand around her waist, tugging her close. “Hey, no calling yourself a whore in a mean way. I’m only allowed to be an asshole about it when I’m fucking you. You’re not allowed.”
“Mm.” She snuggles into my side. “How about you go treat me like your little whore right now?”
“Yeah?” I ask, warmly.
“Oh yeah. I need your dick like I need my next breath.”
We drift around the empty city streets for a little while, completely fucking unprepared. I’m too drunk to pay attention to where I’m at so I assume she knows, but we might just be wandering around aimlessly.
We finally stumble upon a hotel, but Carly stands in front of it, glaring up at it like it offends her. “Not this one.”
“Does it have beds? Then I vote for this one,” I inform her.
“This one’s expensive.”
“Remember how we just talked about that inheritance I’m getting? I don’t care.”
“I miss our apartment,” she states. “I miss our cold, small, stupid apartment.”
I smile faintly, taking her hand and dragging her inside the hotel lobby. Once I’ve rented out a room for the night, I try to focus on following the directions to get to said room. It takes a while, we linger longer in the elevator than we need to, but eventually we make it to our room. Nothing too fancy, but it has a bed, and that’s all we need. Right now I just want to fall face-down into the white sheets and pass out.
Carly has different ideas. Her hands are on the button, then my zipper, then my pants are coming down and she’s dropping to her knees, rubbing my cock until it’s hard.
“Fuck,” I murmur, letting my head fall back.
“I want to please you,” she tells me, looking up at me, gripping the base with her hand.
“You’re well on your way.”
She smiles, then drags her tongue along my length. “I love your cock.”
“You can be president of its fan club,” I assure her.
She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m the only member. I kicked all the other bitches out.”
I can’t help smiling. “Drunk Carly has gone savage.”
With a little wink, she further proves my point, swallowing my cock and sending me to Heaven. I watch her blonde head move back and forth over my cock, the walls of her throat and her skilled little tongue doing beautiful work. Carly gives the best head. I wasn’t initially in love with the idea of a girlfriend who had sex for money at one point, but damn, if there aren’t perks.
Before she can work her magic to completion, though, I reach down a grab a fistful of hair, dragging her off my cock. She must be in the mood for roughness because she makes me drag her ass up off the ground by her hair. I toss her on the bed and she crawls back to make room for me. I shove her dress up around her waist, yanking her black lace thong down and flinging it.
I slide my hands up her thighs, spreading her legs and diving between them. She sighs in anticipation just before I latch onto her. I love feasting on her cunt. I love the way she squirms for me, the way her hips twist and buck, the desperate way she reaches for the pillow, clutches the sheet.
I love the way she cries out, arching her body off the bed, eyes closed in ecstasy. Her perfect breasts move as she does. Fuck, I need to touch them. I move my hand up, anchoring her hips as she does her best to wiggle away from my mouth. I hold her little ass still so I can toy with her clit.
“Vince,” she cries, clutching the pillow. Her legs shake and I hold tighter, licking along her beautiful pussy until she’s good and blissed out.
My cock throbs. I want to do too many things to her, but also to sleep. Fuck, I am tired. I kiss along her abdomen, then worship one breast with my mouth while my hand takes care of the other one.
Carly rakes her fingers through my hair, smiling down at me. “Fuck me, baby. Give me all your rage.”
I growl against her breast, biting down on her nipple before releasing it and lifting my body. I turn her over on her stomach and give her ass a light smack. “Up on your knees.”
“Yes, sir,” she replies, assuming the position.
I get on my knees behind her, clutching one hip to hold her in place, and thrust into her hard. She moans, dropping to her forearms on the bed and pushing her ass out slightly higher.
“Good girl,” I tell her, running a hand down the curve of her back.
I love when she tells me to vent my rage. I don’t always like to let loose on her, but when she issues an invite, it’s a relief to tap into the well of anger that always seems to be brewing beneath the surface. As much as I love her, I still savor the way she whimpers with every fierce thrust of my hips, the way she hisses as my fingers dig into her hips too hard, the sound of her skin as I slam into her.
I vent my rage, she comes hard, and then I do; we all win.
Afterward she curls up in my arms, snuggling close, both of us more peaceful than when we started.
“I love you,” I tell her, pushing her hair behind her ear and leaning in to brush my lips across her soft, sweet mouth.
Carly smiles up at me. “I love you, too.”