Chapter 13 – Vanessa
Chapter Thirteen
Vanessa
Moretti pours us both a drink. I spend a little too long studying the tattoos on his hand and fingers as he offers me my glass, and it keeps him in my orbit long enough for his stormy scent to flood the air.
He backs away before I can do something stupid, but the urge to chuck myself at him is strong.
Then I’d climb him and bury my nose in his throat.
Wow.
It’s going to take some time to get used to how strong my instincts are without the suppressants around to buffer.
He’s dressed more casually than I’ve seen him yet, in dark-wash, low-slung jeans and a Henley.
It’s such a simple outfit, but he always looks good. He’s not bulky, and somehow the material still shows off his lithe muscles.
Moretti takes a swig from his glass, places it on the bookshelf close to the door, and grabs a cigarette from the pack he must keep stored there. He holds the unlit cigarette between his teeth as he steps over and tosses open one of the French doors.
A gust of biting wind spills inside the room, and I shiver. They keep the house nice and toasty, so I took off my coat and leggings before dinner, and I’m regretting that choice.
My nerves are frazzled, and not knowing what he wants to discuss is only making my anxiety worse.
I take a sip from the tumbler he handed me. It’s strong, but it goes down smoother than I expected it to. I’m guessing that means it’s something expensive, though I wouldn’t know. I normally prefer white wine.
“I’m no longer allowed to smoke in my own home.
Fucking ridiculous.” Moretti mutters the last part under his breath before lighting his cigarette.
He waits until it’s lit to step out onto the patio, and I can’t tell if that move was out of spite or if it would have been more difficult to light if he were out in the wind.
“Angel and Kassie never come anywhere close to this wing of the house. It’s tantamount to the landlord being told by a tenant that they can’t smoke when the tenant lives three buildings over.
Each wing has its own separate air conditioning and heating unit. ”
Angel was right.
He does love to complain just enough to make it seem like he hates having them here. Whether that’s the case or not is still to be determined, but he’s the boss. No one could really stop him from smoking all throughout the house if he wanted to.
“My father would do as he pleased and tell anyone who didn’t like it to get fucked,” I say, shrugging.
“Or that’s what he did with his cigars. Not that I’m trying to give you any ideas.
Angel seemed nervous you were going to kick her out.
That’s shitty. The woman just had a baby.
She deserves to have help from the guys who created the kid. ”
He steps over, reaches inside, and grabs his drink off the shelf just inside the door. “Perhaps you’re right, but they’re adults. Not everything is my problem to solve.”
Striding around his desk, I come to a stop just in front of the open door. “Do you regret intervening with Grigoryan?”
Another gust of wind cuts through the air, and the dress I’m wearing offers little protection. I cross my arms over my chest, fighting the urge to shiver.
“Not yet.” Moretti chuckles a low, throaty sound, and smoke spills from his nose. “Though, only time will tell how much of a pain in the ass you intend to be.”
Does he expect me to fall to my knees and weep with joy that he married me without so much as asking if I was interested?
I’m grateful not to be tied to Grigoryan, but I’m also not going to shut up and look pretty out of gratitude for being financially supported.
I smile around the glass as I take another sip of alcohol. It’s not bad. Hopefully it’ll warm me from the inside out. “You provided me with this drink. Are you no longer under the delusion that I might be carrying your heir?”
“You’re smart enough to understand why that display was necessary.
” He takes a long drag of his cigarette, and I’m strangely jealous that it gets to touch his lips.
He exhales a large cloud of smoke, turning to me.
“I considered having our claiming ceremony last night, but there were too many pieces in play that I had no control over. Spreading the word that you could be carrying my heir was strategic. You technically won’t be off-limits until we complete our ceremony, but they’ll all think twice about whether they want to risk the level of hell I would unleash if someone harmed my pregnant wife. ”
“Right.” I nod, taking another swig from the nearly empty tumbler.
That is logical.
In the moment, it felt like he was dead set on embarrassing me, but that makes more sense.
He chuckles darkly. “I also wanted to squash any hopes your father had of seeking an annulment.”
“I wouldn’t have agreed to it, even if he had,” I assure him.
“Yes, well, you didn’t agree to marry me either.” Moretti steps farther out onto the patio and puts his cigarette out in an ashtray on the coffee table. “See a pattern, darling?”
I open my mouth to tell him I would have agreed if he had asked, but I don’t like the implication. I’m well aware that I’ve had almost no agency in my own life.
Moretti grabs the door, pulling it closed as he steps back inside.
I move out of the way and circle around his desk to put some space between us. Before taking a seat in one of the club chairs, I place my glass down on the edge of his desk.
“You’ve been told what to do for your entire life, but I’ve also seen you fight back at every turn.” Moretti follows me over, taking a seat in the other chair. “Are you on your best behavior as you plan how to murder me in my sleep so you can take over my empire?”
“As a completely unrelated side question…” I lick my lips, crossing one leg over the other.
I lean on the arm of the chair, making sure the hem of my dress rides up my thighs.
Hell, with as far as I’m leaning, I’m sure he could see my entire right ass cheek if he was looking.
“Did you falsify a prenup when you forged my signature for the marriage license?”
“I did not.” Moretti doesn’t fall for the bait as he barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“I’m confused why you saved me from Grigoryan at all.”
His head tilts, and I get a full view of the dragon tattoo that weaves down his skull to his neck. It has a grenade in its talons. The blues, greens, purples, and reds are surprisingly vibrant for showing through the buzzed hair. “Would you have preferred that I didn’t?”
“Would it kill you to tell me what you want from me?” I ask, my annoyance rising.
“I want you to settle in and find your place here without any pressure from me.” He rolls his thick lower lip through his teeth and shrugs as he stretches back in his chair.
No one should be as devastatingly handsome as he is.
It’s unnatural.
Still, I’m not going to beg for scraps of attention. He’ll either express interest in making this a real marriage or he won’t.
“I can certainly make myself at home.” I roll my eyes, raising my hand and wiggling my fingers. “I guess I’m just confused. I don’t even have a ring on my finger.”
“Will a ring help make things feel official?” His eyes sparkle. “I’ve already paid for your engagement and wedding rings. They needed to be sized, but I’ll be able to pick them up in the next few days.”
“How do you know my ring size?”
“It was in your contract with the O’Connors,” he says simply. “Have you heard the story of how my family pack came together?”
I shake my head no, but it’s untrue. I have heard the very basics. Apparently, I’m just nosy.
“My mother’s family ran the Italians,” Moretti says.
“The Russians could never get a solid foothold in Boston, and her family made a deal for her to marry my father to consolidate the two factions. Only, she was already head over heels in love with her favorite guard—my other father.” He glances away, and the air in the room gets heavier.
“Arkadiy quickly saw how miserable my mother would be if he attempted to force her to leave her lover behind, and the three of them formed a small pack.”
“I remember now,” I say softly. “Once your family pack came out to the Boston families, several others followed in quick succession.”
Those included Wilder Pierce’s parents, the O’Connors, and even my family pack.
Before that, most mafia families were run by a single couple pairing, even if an omega was involved.
It proved many of them had been part of packs for quite some time, but they didn’t advertise it since it wasn’t widely accepted.
It started a chain reaction, and now, thirty years later, packs running mafia families aren’t looked down upon or considered strange.
“My mother followed a similar pattern to yours, marrying one man for love and another to honor a deal,” I say softly.
“My mother loved both fiercely. They provided different things that she needed to be happy,” he says, his eyes meeting mine once more.
I’m not sure what to add to that. He already knows that didn’t work out so well for my mother.
“I’m the sole heir to both families.” Moretti studies my face, and I wish I knew what he was looking for.
“I have no interest in being part of a legal pack. Whatever arrangements you make, make sure they understand that.” He pushes himself up from his seat and comes over to linger in front of my chair.
“A time will come when you and I will need an heir. Once that time comes, I won’t be inclined to share. ”
So, what?
I’m allowed to have a boyfriend until he’s ready to make time for me, but when that happens, I’d better be ready to break things off?
If so, I hate that plan.
“Can you just speak plainly?”
He chuckles, bending down and cupping my jaw in his tattooed hand.