There Are No Words (The Morelli Sisters #3)

Chapter Eleven

Allegra

I didn’t know a classier way to describe what I was feeling, so I was just going to say it. My stomach felt as uneasy as one might expect having eaten expired yogurt. I hadn’t, by the way, eaten expired yogurt, or any expired food for that matter.

I would have loved to blame it on Emilia and her nauseating demands—Maria wasn’t kidding about those demands—but I couldn’t. I opened the bag of saltines I was carrying around like an extra appendage these days and took one out.

Just as I was about to put it in my mouth, Emilia summoned, “Allie.”

I closed my eyes briefly before reopening them and wished that would be all it took for her to go away. It was wishful thinking, though, because when I turned around, she was there.

She pursed her way-too-plump-to-be-natural lips and barked, “I said I wanted to document every second of this cover shoot. My fans and followers deserve to see it, don’t you think?”

Honestly, I couldn’t care any less if I tried. Especially not when I wanted to be sick on her shoes. “We can do that if you’d like, but I was under the impression I was only here for a live on social.”

“Oh, no!” she practically shrieked as though it was common knowledge that I would follow her around all morning like a puppy dog. I wished I had known that before I came. If there was ever a day to not come into work, it was today. “This is a big moment for me and who knows when it will happen again.” If she kept acting like this, my guess was never. At least never again with us.

I put the cracker in my mouth, hoping it would work miracles for the queasiness I was feeling. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

I nodded. “Sure, just give me one second.”

“Are you sick or something?” Emilia asked pointedly, her nose scrunched, and eyes narrowed like she’d just smelled shit. “Because I can’t afford to catch anything. My career is on an upward slope, and I have way too many appointments to get sick from some woman who works social.” She said that last part like it was an insult, but that was exactly what I did, so she could take her disgusted tone and shove it.

I was a professional, though, so I gave her a fake smile. “I’m pregnant. Last I checked, you can’t catch that.”

“Oh,” she replied softly, “that’s cute.”

Cute? That was one way to look at it, I supposed.

Before I could respond, Maria walked up to us, her gray heels clacking on the ground as she did. She was dressed to the nines in an all-gray pantsuit with bell-bottom pants. “What is going on?” Maria asked. “My team is ready to start the photoshoot.” Her eyes darted from Emilia to me and back again.

I cleared my throat. “Emilia was just telling me how she wants me to get footage of everything. Basically, be her content creator.”

Maria’s brows met in the middle forming a V. “That won’t do.” Thank you, Maria. This was her project, so she should be the one calling the shots. “Allie is here to interview you, as per your request. And that’s after the photoshoot is done.”

Emilia rolled her eyes dramatically and heaved a sigh, as though the thought actually pained her. Yeah, well, you know what pained me? My butt cheek. And the pain in it was dedicated to her, because she was a sincere nuisance. “If that’s the case, then I wish I would have known so I could have had you bring a content creator. This will be a lot less influential now.”

“No,” Maria responded with power in her voice. “This cover will be influential because you’re on it and the name Bellissima is above your head. Everything else would just be a bonus, one that we never discussed, and you don’t need.”

Emilia went to open her mouth and say something, but snapped it shut.

Maria’s eyes roamed over her body. “You better be ready underneath that robe.”

I hitched a brow and waited. Forget crackers, I needed popcorn.

Emilia shook her head. “I’ll go get dressed now. Sorry for holding up the shoot.”

“I’ll apologize to the team for you,” Maria said, watching as Emilia walked away with her tail between her legs.

I ate another cracker. “Told you”—I wagged a finger in the air—“you’re a badass.”

Maria chuckled and pointed to two stools nearby. “Want to sit? I’ve been on my feet all day and can use the break.”

I nodded. “This is the first time all day the room isn’t spinning, but with my stomach the way it is, I wouldn’t be opposed to sitting.”

We sat simultaneously, and Maria grabbed my hand in hers. “I’m sorry about the nausea,” she said, squeezing my hand before releasing it.

I brushed her off, licking my lips. “Me, too. But I happen to remember you having wicked morning sickness.” I set my snack bag in my lap. “And it wasn’t just in the morning, either. If I recall correctly, you had it all hours of the day.”

Maria blew bubbles, looking skyward as she clearly reminisced on days she probably wished she could have forgotten. “Dom practically lived at the grocery store while I lived on crackers and ginger ale. I saw the inside of the toilet more than anything.”

“I remember.” I chuckled as the memories flooded my mind. It wasn’t funny to see Maria sick, but the way Dom took care of her. . . now that was nice. There was a time when Dom had bought Maria so many ginger ales, I imagined he’d bought all the ones the store had. Anything for Maria, though. “Oof, he was so upset you didn’t feel good.”

She widened her eyes, a smile playing at her lips. “He would insist on staying over just to watch me sleep.”

I laughed. “Little creepy, if you ask me.” But it was very Dom. He could be. . . intense, especially when it came to Maria. That was a level of friendship none of us had achieved with any friends we had, but then again, none of them were Dom Deluca.

Maria nudged my arm, and I swayed a bit to the side. She laughed. “It was sweet.”

“Seems like you have something on your mind,” I hedged. Whenever Maria got nostalgic like this, she got a look in her eye like the one she had now—it wasn’t a sparkle so much as a glimmer of hope, or longing, I wasn’t sure.

Maria rolled her lips. “Nah, just work and this shoot. You know me.”

“Yeah, I know you,” I agreed. Then I nudged her. “Which is why I know there’s something more behind that look.”

Maria wasn’t secretive, she just didn’t like to burden people with her problems—her words, not mine.

“Things with Pedro are going really well. We have another date tonight.”

Pedro. She would never hear this from me, not unless I felt like she was ready to hear it, but I didn’t see Pedro being her forever. Maybe I was wrong, but that was how I felt. It didn’t change the fact that she was my sister, and for whatever reason, she liked him, so I’d be supportive. Even cheer them on. “Nice. Where’s he taking you?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s a surprise.”

I gasped, placing a hand on my chest. “You hate surprises.” Detested was more like it. Structure, organization, routine, now those were things Maria loved.

“I’m trying something new.”

Seemed like a horrible idea. “Does he know you hate surprises?” I questioned, arching a brow.

“No,” she answered simply.

“Dom knows you hate them.”

“Maybe, but that’s not relevant because Dom and I aren’t going out tonight or any night.”

I shrugged. “Yet.” I’d said I’d support her with Pedro, and I would. I just so happened to also be rooting for her and Dom. There was no way I was alone in this. Even Dad agreed that Maria and Dom were going to happen. Knowing Maria, she wasn’t going to make it an easy road, though.

Then she threw me for a loop, turning the tables on me. “Like you and Brady.”

Brady and I were. . . well, we were what we were. I frowned. “That’s not fair,” I finally said.

“You two are having a baby together,” Maria pointed out the obvious.

“And that’s all,” I practically screamed, widening my eyes and staring at her as though to say let this go . I didn’t need any more agita .

In a sing-song voice, Maria replied, “Okay.”

* * *

“Allie?” I could recognize my sisters’ voices in my sleep. It was Perla, coming to check on me in the bathroom. Probably because I ran out of a trends report meeting to become better acquainted with the toilet on our floor in the building. It seemed horrible nausea ran in the family. First Maria and now me. Remind me to inflict pain on Brady the next time I saw him.

I didn’t get a chance to respond to Perla and tell her I was, in fact, here because another bout of nausea rolled through me. I clutched either side of the toilet and rolled forward on the balls of my feet (thank heavens I’d worn flats today) and heaved. I’d been doing nothing more than dry heaving, but I felt better knowing a toilet was in front of me in case it turned into something more. Truth be told, if it would get rid of this nausea, then I wished it would be more than dry heaving.

“The meeting’s over, and I called Brady,” Perla said, her voice filled with hesitation. For good reason, too, because I never asked her to do that.

I pulled back and decided this position was killing my legs, so I stood up. “You did what?” I yelled, opening the stall and coming eye-to-eye with her.

Perla crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy, sis. You don’t feel well, and he should know what you’re going through.”

I rolled my eyes and walked to the sink, where I turned it on and started washing my hands. “Oh, yeah, it’s super useful for him to know I’m dry heaving. What’s he supposed to do about it?” I was in no mood to see him or be treated like an invalid. “Wait, I got it. Maybe he can stick his hand up my vagina and pull the sperm out. Yeah, that’s plausible.” I knew every word I’d said was dripping with sarcasm. I went to retrieve a paper towel to dry my hands and swallowed. “Sorry,” I proceeded to tell Perla. “You don’t deserve that.”

“I know it’s the hormones talking and not you,” Perla replied, a hand on her hip. “And I called Brady because it was the right thing to do. If I hadn’t done it, Maria would have.” Then she angled her head. “If Bibi was here, you know she wouldn’t have hesitated in doing it, either.”

“True.” We both laughed. “All right, well, what did he say?”

“Oh, nothing.” She shrugged. “It went to voicemail.”

“Good. Maybe he won’t get it.” I tossed the paper towel in the garbage and walked out with Perla. “Because he’s been a little intense since finding out. Like he doesn’t miss a trick.”

She giggled. “Really? I think that’s nice.”

I shook my head. “It would be if you were pregnant and Frankie—your husband—was that way, but for Brady to be acting that way, it’s weird.”

* * *

Brady

I had to go into work this morning because of an early shipment, and Jack couldn’t be there, so I didn’t know about Allegra’s sickness. Had I known, I would have insisted she take the day off. Not that she would have listened.

So here I was at the Bellissima office in the city, and I couldn’t get off the damn elevator fast enough. Thankfully, I’d already been in the city, meeting with a new supplier, so it saved me a boatload of time on the road. But then again, who knew, because my anger had propelled me this far.

How come I had to hear about how sick she was from Perla and not Allegra herself? Heaven forbid she admitted she wasn’t feeling well. Or possibly needed something. This woman was going to be the death of me.

Once the doors opened, I turned the corner and walked down the hall. This was my first time at the Bellissima headquarters, so I stopped at a receptionists’ desk when I realized I hadn’t a clue where I was going. “Excuse me,” I said, strumming my hands on the desk as a way to expel all my pent-up energy. “Can you please tell me where I can find Allegra Morelli? I was told she’s on this floor.”

One woman pointed down the hallway, her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. “Do you have an appointment?” She peered down at her computer.

Why did my life have to be so difficult? I shook my head. “I’m her boyfriend, and it’s a surprise.” Yeah, that felt like a good way to classify this visit. I mean, the boyfriend part was completely false, but what was I supposed to say? I’m the father of her unborn child. Oh, and if that’s not enough, I’m her roommate, too.

“Third door on the right. You can’t miss it. Her name is on it.” Of course it was. “She was in a meeting, but they should be out by now.”

“Thank you,” I replied, knowing there was no way she was in any meeting unless it was with a toilet.

I continued walking—more like speed-walking—to her office. I didn’t even need to get there to find her, though, because she was walking straight toward me, Perla beside her.

Allegra didn’t see me at first, looking at her sister as she pulled her hair back in some high twist on her head. But then she did. Her eyes met mine, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Yeah, she hadn’t expected to see me. I didn’t know why, though. What the hell did she think I was going to do when I found out she wasn’t feeling well?

“Brady,” Allegra said, her tone breathy. Her lips looked paler than usual and her skin clean—not a bit of makeup. She’d never looked more gorgeous.

That didn’t change the fact that I was here for a reason—to take her home. I narrowed my eyes. “Allegra, get your shit. We’re going home.”

“Aw, he said we ,” Perla gushed, earning her a stop-that-right-this-instant look from Allegra, causing Perla to divert her eyes elsewhere.

Looking at me, Allegra scrunched her nose and crossed her arms, obviously being defiant. Figures she won’t listen to me. “Try that again because clearly you have a screw loose if you think I’m going to allow you to bark orders at me.”

Perla cleared her throat. “I’m just going to let you two. . . .” She nodded her head toward me. “Brady, nice to see you again.”

I tried to keep my eyes focused on Allegra, to see what was going on in that head of hers, but looked away for a split second to respond to Perla—“You, too, and thank you for calling me.”

“Of course,” she said before ducking out.

Allegra rolled her eyes and walked right past me, heading toward her office. Hopefully to get her shit, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t be the case. Regardless, I tried—“Good, so you’re going to listen to me.”

“No,” Allegra threw back. “I’m doing no such thing. I’m going to my office because I have work to do. It’s a workday, and I’m pregnant, not dying.”

Even if she were dying, something told me she’d dig her heels in and insist on staying. I was hot on her trail, my nose inhaling her wildflower scent as we went. I grabbed her by the elbow and spun her to face me. With a deep tone, I said, “You need to take it easy, and you spending most of your day in a bathroom isn’t going to do much for this magazine. You would get more work done at home anyway. We can stop on the way and pick you up some lemonade. I heard that helps with the nausea.”

She looked down at my grip on her and tried to get out of it, but I was stronger. “Heard?” She gave me sass, her eyes burning with a fire that could level an entire campsite. “Or read about in your precious book?”

I grimaced. “Smartass.” I released my hold on her—begrudgingly—and walked into her office with her. “Why can’t you just come home with me?”

She turned on her heel and rolled her lips. “Because I feel fine.”

“Interesting. Because your sister suggested differently.” I crossed my arms and waited for her to answer.

Not a second later, she extended a hand to reach for her desk, but it was too far away, and she looked like she was about to collapse like a ton of bricks. Her face going sheet white. So I moved with speed and closed the gap between us. I grabbed her and held her against me. Her eyes were fixed on the floor until she finally looked up and nodded slowly. Her breaths were coming in ragged.

“Okay. I’ll admit, I did just get a little lightheaded.”

And that scared her. I could tell by the way the color had drained from her face. Her lips were hardly pink, the lightest shade I’d ever seen, that was for sure.

“Has that been happening often?” I asked, hoping she’d be honest with me.

“Not really, but when it does, I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don’t. Come on”—my eyes found her purse to the side of her desk, and I took it—“we’re getting out of here.”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder like I was claiming my girl and wanted the whole world to know she was mine. She wasn’t, of course. Not technically, anyway. But then again, I never did care much for technicalities.

She looked at my hand draped over her shoulder, resting slightly on her chest, and gazed my way, arching a brow. “You going to try to cop a feel and squeeze my boob like we’re in junior high?”

I grinned. “If you need someone to give attention to one or both of them, then I’d gladly volunteer for the job.”

I pressed the button on the elevator, and we waited for it to open. “No, thanks,” she returned. “I’d much rather match with a fuck buddy on one of those stupid apps.” She pursed her lips, clearly feeling more like herself again, and breathed in my ear before whispering, “They have the most skilled men on there.”

She knew just how to get under my skin, and she loved every single tortuous second of doing it. She could spew all the ridiculous shit about skilled men all she wanted, but we both knew I was as skilled as they came. I had the stamina of a jaguar and could play her body like a fiddle if she’d let me.

Once we got in the elevator and the doors closed, we were the only two in there, so I turned around and cornered her, placing my hands on either side of her. She didn’t look afraid, more curious about what my next move would be. “You know I never did care to have telepathy,” I told her.

She swallowed and parted her lips slightly, her breath escaping in a hitched manner. “And why’s that?”

I let my eyes wash over her face, taking in all of her features. Her brown eyes looked like pools of chocolate, and I wanted to drown in them. Her lips were full, her bottom lip so full, I wanted to place my thumb there, pull down on it, and revel in her warm breath. Her cheeks were turning red, which meant she was starting to get turned on. Maybe it was because of the way I was staring at her with intensity and longing in my eyes. Let’s be real, I wouldn’t have had a one-night stand with my roommate if I didn’t want to lick every inch of her and watch her eyes roll back in her head as she cried out in pleasure. And I wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

Before we hit the lobby, I answered her—“Because I find most people’s eyes are so expressive, they give them away, anyway. But you, your cheeks are your biggest tell.”

Her chest was rising and falling, and with every breath, her tits brushed my chest, her nipples perkier than ever. I dropped my gaze to see if I was right and sure as hell I was—they were pushing up against the fabric of her blouse, probably uncomfortably so.

She watched my eyes and didn’t seem bothered in the least that I wasn’t even hiding the fact that I was staring. “What am I thinking right now?” she questioned.

“You’re thinking how you want me to take one of your nipples in my mouth and suck on it so hard it hurts, then lick the hurt away.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I turned around and left Allegra breathing hard in the back, her hands still holding onto the railing, wide-eyed. I walked out as two women walked in, my gaze connecting with Allegra’s. “Are you coming?”

Trying to compose herself, she nodded and cleared her throat before finally walking out. As she passed me, she threw over her shoulder, “Since you want to know everything about this pregnancy, you should know my nipples are tingling. A lot.”

Fuck if I didn’t meet my match.