Chapter 8 – Vanessa #2
“I agree, but I will reach out to your father tomorrow,” Moretti says, as if the matter is now closed.
“But—” It’s the only word I get out before Moretti cuts me off.
“If that conversation isn’t fruitful, I’ll negotiate directly with Vance and Victor.” He offers what I think is supposed to be a placating smile, but it comes off as condescending.
Everything in me wants to argue my point, but I’ve lived with men like Moretti for my entire life. No matter what I say, it won’t change his mind. If anything, it’s more likely to piss him off.
Moretti’s mansion is even more grandiose than the house I grew up in. It’s all dark wood and cream walls, but I’m not about to judge his decorative tastes.
It’s warm, and it smells nice.
Everyone describes my scent as tart green apples with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. Strangely, the house smells like apple cobbler. If he had his chef prepare one to welcome me to the family, I wouldn’t turn down dessert before bed.
I’m actually starving.
I skipped dinner before the party because I was too depressed and anxious to eat, and I’m now regretting that choice. My stomach growls ridiculously loudly as I follow Moretti down a long hallway.
Hawk tracks behind the two of us, and his smoky, campfire scent somehow manages to drift to me even though he’s behind me. My nostrils flare as I breathe in deeply, and I’m fond of the way Moretti’s electric, stormy scent blends with Hawk’s smoky smell. That could end up being a problem.
I have no idea how Moretti plans to run this sham of a marriage, but I’m going to have a heat…probably sooner rather than later, since I no longer have access to my suppressants.
Doctors warned my father that the medication isn’t meant to be used for longer than two years in a row without a year-long break between. Unsurprisingly, my father didn’t care. I’ve been on suppressants for nearly six years straight, and I’m sure my first heat is going to be rough.
My husband tosses open a door, holding it as he nods for me to step inside.
I do, and Hawk follows.
It’s an office with the same cream-colored walls and dark wooden flooring as the rest of the house.
There are expansive bookcases that take up the left and right walls.
They’re framed in the same color as the floor, and it smells exactly like Moretti.
While the wall behind his desk boasts a set of doors, I can’t see where they lead, as they have no windows.
A quick survey of the room proves the same is true for the entire space. His office is completely windowless, which I suppose is smart from a security standpoint. He has an entry and exit point, but doors are much sturdier than glass.
“You may have a seat.” He gestures to the club chairs on this side of the large brown desk.
Hawk doesn’t hesitate to get comfortable in the one on the right, and I follow his lead, sitting in the other chair.
Moretti strides to his desk, leaning against the edge. He spins and grabs a black gift bag. Reaching inside, he pulls out a black box a little bigger than the flat of a man’s outstretched hand. He leans over, offering it to me.
I take it, noting how light it is as I drop it on my thigh. By the time I’m done, Moretti has another package held out. It’s significantly heavier as I take it from his hand, and I recognize the name of the cell phone company’s logo on the front of the box.
“If there are any phone numbers that you don’t know by heart, you’ll need to swap them over.
” Moretti nods at the second box that I’m still holding.
“Go ahead and handle that. Once you’re done, place your old phone in the first box.
It’ll be checked over by my tech guy and returned to you once it’s deemed safe.
” I blink repeatedly, obviously taking too long to act.
He goes on, saying, “Now, if you would. I have no desire to be listened to by your family, and I have no doubt they’re tracking your every move with that thing. ”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to make a joke, asking if the necklace and bracelet have a listening device or only a tracking device, but I’m exhausted. I don’t have it in me to bicker with Moretti right now.
I follow his instructions, turning on the new phone and adding important numbers before turning off my old phone and placing it in the black box.
I hand it off to Moretti, who stands, goes over to a filing cabinet, and drops it into one of the drawers.
Once he’s back, he reaches into the bag, pulling out an envelope.
He offers it to me, shaking it obnoxiously.
“These are your cards. The black card is for emergencies. You may also use it for necessities, but if you add them to the list, they’ll be purchased for you with the rest of the household shopping.
That is done every Tuesday and Friday. You’ll also find a new bank card.
The pin can be found on the sticky note attached to the front.
Your January payment has already been made.
You’ll receive a deposit of ten thousand dollars on the first of every subsequent month.
That is your spending money. You may choose to save it, if you’d like. It’s yours to do with as you please.”
I flip open the envelope, and the two cards he mentioned are inside. “Thank you.”
He nods as my eyes meet his. “You’ve been caged in your family’s home for the last twenty-five years.
I have no desire to be your next jailer.
You’ll need round-the-clock security, but you’re free to live your life.
Take up yoga. Join a painting class. Learn a new language.
Whatever you’d like to fill your time with, you’re free to do so. ”
“You want me to stay out of your way as much as possible?” I ask, trying to guess what he means without setting him off. With my father, I got one shot. After that, he’d just get angrier and angrier.
“I didn’t say that.” Moretti’s eyes narrow as his head tilts.
“This is your home as much as it is mine. I would ask that you have discretion with any romantic relationships you might take on. The other families will be looking for anything they can use against us—at least for a while. With that being said, I’m not unreasonable.
We can discuss children in a year or two.
We’ll eventually need an heir. There’s no rush for that, though. ”
My lips roll together as I process what he just said.
I’m guessing he has a girlfriend or fuck buddy that he’s not quite willing to give up.
It’s not exactly shocking, but I am annoyed.
It’s just another way I’ll look like a fool when it comes to the Boston families.
Still, it’s a cushy setup compared to what I was expecting to get with Grigoryan, so I’ll take it.
“That sounds reasonable to me.” I offer him a cutting smile.
“There’s more we need to go over, but it’s late. We can tackle that in the morning,” Moretti says, holding his tie to his chest as he stands. “Hawk will be your full-time bodyguard until we can find a permanent team that I trust to keep you safe.”
My gaze moves to the massive bodyguard. His energy doesn’t seem pleased with this turn of events. I can go easy on him until my husband finds that new team he mentioned.
As far as Moretti goes, I haven’t decided if I’m going to torment him or peacefully assimilate into his household. It’ll be a surprise for both of us, I suppose.