Chapter 10 – Vanessa
Chapter Ten
Vanessa
Iwake up warm and well-rested. I’m safe, comfortable, and covered in Hawk’s scent.
I’m pretty sure he had just put the T-shirt on before going to bed, but somehow, I could still smell him like he was cuddled up behind me as I fell back to sleep.
It settled my frazzled nerves, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
My bodyguard is missing when I make my way into the sitting room.
I’m not about to stay trapped in here all day, so I head downstairs.
The layout of the house isn’t complicated, and once I’m on the bottom floor, I use a combination of basic remembrance of what I saw on the way in and my nose to follow the smell of breakfast.
I was starving before I went to sleep, and my stomach is about three seconds away from eating itself.
Moretti made a point to say this house is now my home as much as it is his. He shouldn’t have said it if he didn’t want me to believe it.
It takes a fair amount of confidence to walk into the kitchen knowing I’m only clad in Hawk’s T-shirt. Hell, I don’t even have a bra on, since the dress last night made wearing one impossible.
I come to a stop, and my head tilts.
There’s a woman at the table, tits out, with a baby in the crook of her arm.
Okay, so…
Who the hell is she?
I wonder if she’s one of the things Moretti planned to talk to me about today.
Is that his baby?
If so, I’m going to punch him in the throat for her.
Maybe a little bit for me too.
I mean, why else would she be here?
Moretti doesn’t have any brothers or sisters, so that’s out.
“Oh, shit,” she says, popping one breast back into her bra as she moves the baby to latch on to the other. She hits her feet while I’m still stuck blinking like an idiot. “Hey, sorry about that. I’m Angel, and yes, I was hanging out down here, hoping I ran into you. This place is a dickfest.”
Under normal circumstances, I would laugh, but I’m hungry and confused.
Angel is pretty, with long wavy blonde hair, brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She’s cute in that girl-next-door way that men go crazy for.
Damn.
Her boobs are the size of the baby’s head. Wow. This is when I realize that I’ve been staring for an uncomfortable amount of time.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Vanessa.” I nod, eyeing the platters of food on the counter. “Is it okay if I dig into that food?”
“It’s your house.” She laughs. “So, yeah, I’d say you can have whatever you want.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, beelining toward the island. “Do you happen to know where the plates are?”
Or Hawk?
Hell, I’d even settle for my husband.
I have so many questions, and a few choice words for that man.
“There should be a stack somewhere over near the sink,” she says, and all I can seem to focus on is how awkward this must be for her.
It’s not my ideal start to a morning, but it’s also not as bad as my life could have been if I was waking up at Grigoryan’s house. So, I’m not going to complain. If I were her, I sure as fuck would have an earful for Moretti.
I find the plates and silverware, then proceed to pile French toast, bacon, and hash browns onto the plate. There are even pitchers of juice and what I assume is coffee.
I’m not a coffee person, at least not in the morning.
I’d much rather have a crisp Dr Pepper, or Coke if that’s not available. “Do you know if there’s soda around here somewhere?”
“Moretti is kind of a health nut. The man doesn’t drink soda.” She laughs, bouncing the baby as it eats. “Check the fridge at the back of the pantry. The guys keep it stocked.”
I give her an appreciative smile. If I have to live with my husband’s girlfriend, I’d like to, at the very least, maintain a civil relationship.
Oh. My. God.
I wonder if I have a sister wife.
I find a crisp Coke where Angel said they would be, and I swear my entire outlook on life changes as it hits my taste buds. Moving on, I shovel an unhealthy amount of hash browns into my mouth.
Ketchup would be nice, but someone left out fancy maple syrup, and the hint of sweetness contrasts the salty hash browns.
“You can come sit at the table,” Angel says. “I’ll run and grab a blanket if it makes you uncomfortable.”
I mentally try to reset my expression.
I’m not evil, but my resting bitch face occasionally makes it seem like I am.
“Don’t do that. The baby needs fresh air while it eats.” I grab my plate and the can of soda. “Sorry, I don’t know if it’s a boy or girl. I didn’t mean to call your kid an it.”
Damn.
I’m going to have to get my shit together if I’m going to be a parent one day very far down the line.
“She’s a girl.” She laughs. “But you’re right, you can’t tell by her outfit today. I’ve just been too lazy to do laundry.”
I get everything set down on the table and slide into the chair. “I’m sure Moretti has someone who can handle that for you. If not, he can definitely afford to hire a team.”
“That man threatens to kick us out on a weekly basis. I really shouldn’t push my luck.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, wondering if Moretti thought things through well enough to falsify a prenup.
Even if he didn’t, it’s not like he couldn’t just forge my signature once again, but I’d still do my best to make his life a living hell if he wanted to play games like threatening to kick me out if I did something he didn’t like.
“You should raise hell. You have a baby.”
“We’ve been looking for a place, but Anson and Ziggy work so much…” She shrugs. “Moretti might whine about having us here, but he’s not a bad guy. He didn’t fire me, even though it goes against his policy of not allowing his men to hook up with his dancers.”
My head tilts.
Moretti owns a variety of strip clubs and bars. I had no idea about that policy, but it makes sense if he wants to keep any messy relationship drama away from his businesses.
“He let me move in a month before I gave birth, just so I could live in one place with my guys,” Angel says.
“My roommates complained every time I had Ziggy and Anson over, but I’m sure we could have found somewhere.
” She shrugs. “I don’t think Moretti was prepared to give up having two of his enforcers here on the property, so he gripes just enough to make it seem like it’s a hassle to have us here. ”
I spin that over in my head.
Huh.
Maybe that’s not Moretti’s kid.
“What’s her name?” I ask, nodding to the baby.
“Kassie.” She smiles down at the baby. “She’s five weeks old…” She goes on, chattering a bunch of information that I don’t actually listen to, but people like to talk about their kids, right?
Hopefully.
I need more time to mull over what she just said.
Does it make me an asshole to always assume the worst about everyone?
Maybe, but I haven’t been pleasantly surprised a whole lot in my life. It would be a nice change to not have to keep my guard up at all times, but I didn’t even know I was coming here until twelve hours ago.
A flash of Magnum’s easy smile fills my mind, and my stomach aches. I hate that he probably waited around for me for hours before finally giving up and leaving. Or maybe he never showed up at all.
Either way, I’ll never know.
Angel leaves to change Kassie’s diaper, and Hawk and Moretti still haven’t popped up.
Once I’m done eating, I go searching. Moretti’s office is my target, and luckily, the house’s straightforward layout makes it easy enough to find. The door is cracked open about six inches, but I knock, which pushes it open at least a foot or two.
Moretti is at his desk, and he nods, waving a hand. “Come in, Vanessa.”
I make my way into the room, spotting the woman in the club chair on the opposite side of his desk.
She’s beautiful, with straight reddish-brown hair and a slender face. She’s wearing a cream dress with gray piping. It accentuates her tits and makes her waist seem ridiculously tiny.
I try not to let myself be intimidated by anyone, but I hate her without even knowing for sure who she is. Everything in me says this must be Francesca, and I bet she’s enjoying seeing me in nothing but a T-shirt.
Spending time with Angel and Kassie and having a full stomach did wonders for my mood, but the cocky little smirk on that woman’s face pisses me right off.
If she keeps that up, I’m going to have to teach her a lesson about where I came from. It might not be classy, but I grew up in the lifestyle. One thing my father didn’t skimp on was my self-defense training.
Not that it helped much when Blade’s guys kidnapped you.
Moretti waves me around the desk and stands as I come to a stop at his side.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, planting his hand on my ass at the same time he leans down to kiss the side of my head. “Mmm, you smell good.”
He’s really hamming it up.
After spending the better part of ten minutes thinking he had a girlfriend and his kid living here, I like that he’s being affectionate in front of this woman.
“Vanessa, this is Francesca,” he says, palming my backside. “Francesca, this is my wife.”
“That’s the shitty personal shopper?” I ask, playing dumb as I bat my eyelashes.
“I’m a personal stylist,” Francesca says, and even the sound of her voice grates on my nerves.
“Right,” I say, and I’m sure my tone conveys how bad I think she is at her job.
Hell, maybe I’m unfounded, and she’s a perfectly nice person, but I don’t need a reason to dislike her on sight. Not that she didn’t give me a strong reason with the garbage that she pulled.
My mom always told me to trust my gut, and my gut thinks Francesca needs to go.
Some people just give off bad vibes.
I have no interest in seeing what she’ll try to mess up next. If she brought me a dress that I couldn’t zip myself into for something important like a syndicate party, we’d have a real problem on our hands.
“Francesca brought over an entirely new selection of items,” Moretti says. “Hawk is bringing them upstairs as we speak.”
He moves to sit once more. This time, he tugs me with him, using his hand on my ass. Even though his desk chair is rather spacious, it’s not easy to kneel over him, and I’m sure Francesca gets a nice glimpse of my ass as I get settled.
My eyes stare into Moretti’s blue orbs, waiting to see what he’s going to do next. She didn’t even try to fake platitudes, like it’s nice to meet you or apologize for the sizing mix-up.
If I had walked in and her energy was different, I probably would have admitted that I was stressed last night and overreacted.
Despite what people love to say about me, I’m not unreasonable. I match a person’s vibes. If they’re genuine, I am too, but if someone is an asshole to me, I echo it right back.
Moretti quirks an eyebrow.
He’s asking something.
I’m just not sure what.
My head shakes minutely, and his lips tip up at the edges.
“I have other clients to see today,” Francesca says from behind me. “I’m leaving, but I’ll bring you suit samples next week—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Moretti looks at her over my shoulder.
“Your services will no longer be required. Your final payment will be made within twenty-four hours. I wouldn’t expect a reference.
If anyone calls, I’ll be directing them to speak with my wife.
Close the door on your way out.” He reaches around me, swipes his phone off his desk, and it feels like he types out a text.
I can’t see it, but I’m jostled around again as he tosses his phone back down.
“Sorry about that. I needed to ensure someone would be around to escort her off the premises and revoke her gate access.” He leans back in his chair, studying my face.
“Did you enjoy your breakfast? You smell like syrup.” He brushes his thumb over my lower lip, and I get whacked with his electric scent.
“It was great.” I jab a finger at his chest. “You should have warned me about Angel. I thought that baby was your kid.”
He chuckles. “No, I can assure you, I have no children.”
“Well, with the money you’re saving from letting Francesca go, you should hire someone to help out with everyone’s laundry. Angel mentioned being too tired to get to it.” I plant my hands on the arms of the chair, moving to climb off his lap before I do something stupid.
His scent is too potent, and my system is way more sensitive to smells without the suppressants.
Moretti’s hands move to my hips, and he leans forward in the chair, making it easier for me to get settled on my feet.
“Thank you.” I step around his desk, putting more space between my nose and his stormy scent. “Did you talk to my family about my things?”
“I did. Once you find something suitable to wear, Hawk will accompany you to your family’s home. I would go with you, but your father isn’t very pleased with me at the moment.” He shrugs. “He’ll get over it. He can’t hate his son-in-law forever.”
I snort.
We both know he’s delusional.
“Thanks, Moretti. It means a lot that you didn’t go back on your word.”
“Don’t get sentimental on me now, darling.” His blue eyes sparkle, and my heart skips a beat.
I wish he would flat-out clarify what he wants our relationship to be.
I don’t think he would lie about us being married.
I’m sure the first thing my father did this morning was order someone to verify that it’s real.
Even being legally bound together, I have no idea how he wants things to play out between us.
“Ahh, by the way, I meant to ask. Would you like me to have my physician stop by over the next few days?” Moretti asks. “Or do you plan to retrieve your suppressants today?”
“No.” My eyes narrow, and my head shakes before I fully think it through.
“I’m going to take a break from the suppressants.
They’re not supposed to be taken for longer than two years, and I’ve been on them for a long time.
There’s no telling what kind of health consequences there could be if I keep taking them. ”
A look crosses his face that makes me wish I could telepathically pluck his thoughts from his head.
He’s very touchy-feely, or he has been since last night.
It’s not how I thought he would be, and I want additional touches and maybe some cuddling.
That’s a bad sign, considering how vague he’s been about where we stand.
“If you stop taking the suppressants, you’ll go into heat,” he says simply.
“Yeah, probably.” I actually have no idea when that might happen, but there is a high likelihood that it will be soon.
“Do you have a plan for that?”
“I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” I shrug, spin around, and head for the door. “Hawk’s scent was soothing last night. Maybe I’ll try my luck by asking him. He has a perfectly good knot at the ready…”
A low growl fills the air as I make my way out into the hallway, and a smile tips at my lips. If he wants to be confusing, we’ll just have to see how long it takes him to break.