Page 22 of A Love Most Brutal (Morelli Family #2)

MAXIM

Usually I don’t operate on a whole lot of sleep, but my wife, it seems, goes on even less. Nadia used to go on and on about how women need more sleep than men when I told my sisters to wake up before ten, but if this is true, Marianna does not feel so inclined.

This, I’ve learned, is common for her.

It’s been two weeks since we returned from our honeymoon, if one can even call it that.

Two weeks of her sleeping in our bed, showering where I shower, sleeping in little more than T-shirts and underwear, and we have fallen into somewhat of a routine.

There has been no more sex. First because she started her period and said no use having sex if we can’t make a baby, right?

I think she was testing me, she had that teasing lilt in her eye just asking for me to deny this and admit I crave her desperately. But my heart can only take so much.

“Whatever you wish,” I said. Fool. She licked her lips and I think she took that as a challenge, waiting for me to approach her again, because two weeks later, we don’t so much as touch unless she’s brushing past me for sugar in the kitchen.

It’s no use thinking about it. She knows the importance of trying to make a baby, and so do I. I’ll bring it up tonight and will be completely composed, no inkling of the number of times I’ve had to fuck my hand to avoid touching her or just smelling her hair, anything to be closer to her.

I climb out of bed, dressing quickly for a run and peer around the house as I make my way downstairs. No sign of her in the bathroom, office, living room, or kitchen, and the security system is still set, so I know she hasn’t left yet.

After pulling a bottle of pressed juice from the fridge, I finally find Marianna on a mat in the gym, pieces of her curly hair stuck to her forehead and neck from sweat.

She wears a bra and shorts, and I know I’ve seen her naked on multiple occasions now, but her body all flexed and sweaty is a different vision than her splayed out on a bed.

My workout will not be productive if I keep my eyes on her body, though, so I shuffle around the perimeter of the room toward the cardio equipment.

“Morning,” I say, and she nods, only speaking once she’s finished her set of twists. Moody music I don’t recognize plays from the sound system in the room.

“Hi,” she takes a sip of water from the bottle next to her. It’s one of the reusable ones from the kitchen, and it pleases me to know she’s already started to make herself comfortable. “Am I in your way?”

“Not at all.” The only person who’s ever worked out in here at the same time as me is Sasha, who I have not ever had an issue with being distracted by, unless he’s yammering on about something or other. The man loves to talk.

Come to think of it, he and Nate really would get along if they had the chance. Marianna and Sasha already get along much easier than she and I do; Sasha has always been better at jokes and friendly conversation than me.

Mary reaches for a pair of wireless headphones. “It’s okay,” I say. “I don’t mind the music.”

She takes another drink of water and resumes her workout as if I’m not here watching her from the corner of my eyes and through the wall mirrors, even when I try not to.

If someone asked me what I thought Marianna Morelli listened to, I might have said club music exclusively. That’s the only thing I’ve heard her listening to, and she dances to it so well, so I’m surprised that her playlist is a mix of R&B, old rock, and songs that move from moody to screaming.

When I reach two miles, I slow the machine down and wait until she drops from a plank to speak again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what do you like to eat?”

Marianna’s eyebrows pinch together. “I’m easy. All of the places we’ve gone are great.”

“Yes, but our chef Elise is back from her vacation and wants to know how she can adapt the menu for you.” I’m not entirely used to saying our anything, not after so long of everything being mine alone.

Elise didn’t ask for Marianna’s food preferences exactly, though she did ask me if my bride had any allergies she should be aware of. She’s been making the same meals for me for the last five years, but I’m ready to shuffle the entire menu if need be.

“Oh.” Marianna stretches her arm across her chest, then behind her head. Her chest glistens with a sheen of sweat. “The usual stuff, what you like is fine.”

I raise my eyebrows and wait for her to give more information, and after one song rolls into the next without budging, she presses her lips together and thinks about it. “Chicken parm,” she pauses, “fish, eggplant dishes. Thai food—curries of all kinds. Soups.”

I retrieve my phone and jot the items into a text message.

“What kinds of soups?”

“Brothy ones with beans. Ones with kale. Zuppa toscana. Normal stuff like pizza, enchiladas, pasta. Salmon and quinoa. Like I said, I’m easy.”

I type the rest of the items into the list then send them off to Elise to incorporate into the upcoming schedules.

“Elise comes Thursday and Sunday and leaves meals for the rest of the days. I’ll let her know what you prefer.”

“Oh, we eat at my sister’s house on Mondays,” she says. “Well, I do. If you’re busy, you don’t have to. But Nate will bother you about it if you’re not there for his pizza dip or whatever abomination he’s testing that week.”

“He always cooks?”

“No, thank God,” she mutters, smirking. “I’m not one to talk though, I’m worse than him. Be glad you didn’t request cooking in this arrangement of ours.”

Marianna’s phone rings, and she picks it up without looking at who’s calling.

“Yeah,” she says. I can’t hear who’s on the other side, but what I can hear is decidedly feminine. One of her sisters, if I had to guess and be nosy about it. “How many?” she asks. “Yeah, be there soon.”

She hangs up and looks up at where I’m staring on my unmoving treadmill. Very cool. Casual.

“Work already?” I ask, because I am nosy.

“It’s always something, I’m sure you know how it is. Plus we’re down a man with Sean out with the baby.”

“I’ll go with you,” I say before I can think better of it. My assistant might develop a permanent eye-twitch when I tell him to move my meetings, but I’m deeply curious about what keeps Marianna busy when we go our separate ways during the day.

“Don’t you have a job?” she asks. “Like, work to do?”

“Sure, but it’s early. Most of my meetings today start after the typical workday ends,” I lie. I have an extremely busy schedule this morning, but Marianna does not need to know that.

“It might get. . .messy.”

I try not to look fazed as I step toward her. “Messy how?”

Marianna squints at me, debating her response if I had to guess. Fine with whatever she sees apparently, she shrugs. “I hope you actually have a strong stomach.”

An hour later, we’ve picked up a box of donuts at the bakery down the street and are driving through morning traffic to the Morelli estate.

Sasha drives us, he and Marianna going beat for beat debating about some movie I’ve never seen.

After the shooting, Sasha started attending every outing, keeping close watch of our surroundings and looking all-around menacing.

Because Marianna is an enigma and he loves to make friends, my half-brother never bothered to keep from asking her lots of questions until she’d finally acquiesce and tell us something new about herself.

He and Marianna like a lot of the same things—they get along.

Talking for them is much easier than it is for me, maybe because Sasha is closer to her in age and more social, at large.

The guy loves to gossip, which is one reason he’s so good at his job, and even though Marianna doesn’t know about half the people he talks about, she listens intently and says all the right things to egg him on.

“You’re full of shit, the Oceans movies clear those by a mile,” she says, leaning forward in her seat, eyes lit up with amusement.

“I didn’t say they weren’t better, I said they were less fun , less charming.”

“You are insane for that.”

“Brother, you hear this? She’s calling me names, even though I’m right,” Sasha says. “Control her?”

Marianna laughs and raises her eyebrows at me. “Well, Maxim? What punishments will you dole out to your rude wife?”

“She can be as rude as she wants,” I say. “Especially if it’s to you.”

“Man,” Sasha says, but he’s laughing too as he pulls through the gates to the Morelli home.

Marianna climbs out of the car first, forgetting the box of donuts that sit between us, so I grab it and follow after her into her sister’s home.

“Yo,” Marianna calls when we get through the door. Vanessa calls out from down the hall a response that I don’t make out, but we follow the sound into Vanessa’s office where Vanessa and Leo sit across from each other at the table.

Vanessa looks surprised to see me and Sasha trailing behind her sister.

“Bring Your Guy to Work Day?” Leo asks.

“Morning, Orlov,” Vanessa says, indicating I take a seat in one of the three chairs across from her.

I do, Marianna dropping into the one next to me after giving her sister and cousin kisses on their cheeks.

I place the box of donuts on the desk and Leo reaches for one.

I don’t know her cousin well, but I know his father was Lorenzo Morelli’s right hand and a widower, so Leo was raised with the rest of them. He’s strong, well respected, and would be as feared as Marianna if he wasn’t seen as her more reasonable counterpart.

“What do you have for me?” Marianna asks.

“Hugh Sullivan,” Leo says, and his expression is grim. “Third strike.”

“What’d he do this time?”

Vanessa clears her throat, her eyes flashing momentarily to mine. “Almost killed an Orlov. Said it’s bad enough Cillian couldn’t take me down, now we had to go merge families again with,” she reads from a paper on the desk in front of her and sighs, “the little psycho girl .”

Marianna whistles before reaching for a donut.

“Why haven’t I heard about this?” I ask. I might have taken him out myself if I heard he’d said that.

“I heard about it,” Sasha says, reaching between Marianna and me for a chocolate sprinkle donut himself. “Dmitri beat the shit out of the man for threatening him and talking shit. Score seemed settled.”

“Maybe for you, but this isn’t his first infraction,” Vanessa says.

“And if he was Cillian’s side like that? Well, that’s just one step too far,” Leo says, and I completely agree. Cillian attempting to force Vanessa into marrying him last year secured his death. He should’ve died sooner, but nobody knew he was responsible for Marianna being shot.

“Sean knows?” Marianna asks.

Vanessa nods as she rubs her pregnant belly absent-mindedly. “He made the final call.”

Marianna sighs and takes the last bite of her donut. Sean’s rise to head of the Donovann family was unexpected, and the weight of the last six months has probably aged him a few years. He’s looked tired since taking over, but wears it well. He’s tough and sharp.

I’m rooting for him, more than I had his traitor of a brother. It’s difficult making decisions like this one—it’s not easy killing someone you thought you could trust, even after said three strikes.

“Alright. I’ll handle it,” Marianna says.

My gaze snaps to my wife. What does she mean she’ll handle this ?

“Handle it how?” I ask. Both Vanessa and Leo look a little uncomfortable at the question.

“I’ll take him out,” Mary says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. I blink, processing this. We are here at nine in the morning because they want Marianna to do a hit ? Like she’s a fucking unmade lackey?

“Why would you have to do that?”

Marianna squints at me. “My job?”

“Christ,” Sasha mutters behind me.

“Why would you ask this of her?” I direct this at Vanessa. She and Leo look at me with some amount of pity, but also like I might be speaking Russian.

“Probably because Sean’s with Willa and the baby? This isn’t some dealer. Hugh Sullivan is a low-level general for the Donovanns,” Marianna says, and Vanessa nods. “You do know that this is my job, don’t you?”

“That’s the problem.” I’ve heard all the rumors, but I didn’t realize that I would feel this way when actually faced with the truth of her actually out on the street as a hired killer. I turn to Vanessa with my indignation. “You’d have your sister do this grunt work? Like some reaper?”

“Oh, boy,” Leo mutters. Suddenly Vanessa and Marianna’s faces ignite like I’ve said the completely incorrect thing by asking something so reasonable.

“It’s what she wants, she asked for this despite countless pleas to do something else. And I respect her decisions. Plus, Mary’s the best at the job,” Vanessa says. “You knew when you married her that she wouldn’t just quit working.”

“Yes, but why this job?”

“What is your problem?” Marianna asks. “Talking about me like I’m not here. You act like I’ve never killed someone.”

“I just don’t understand why you have to be the one taking out hits,” I say.

“Maybe you don’t need to understand everything,” Marianna snips. I close my mouth and meet her stare, a battle of wills that she could win every time.

I take a breath and get my tone in check. “How will you do it?”

Mary looks to her sister before answering. Vanessa looks to Leo and they both shrug.

“Up to her how she does it,” Leo says. “Sean just said it needs to be today.”

“We don’t make this choice lightly, Orlov. We’ve given him more chances than he deserves, more than any of our fathers would have,” Vanessa defends.

“I’m not questioning your decision, but you’d let her do the work?” I ask, my voice’s volume increasing without my intending.

Marianna scoffs next to me. “Don’t talk about me like I’m some kid.”

“That’s not what I meant, Marianna. You shouldn’t have to be out there killing common criminals.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“I think it became my business as soon as we got married.”

“Well what’s not your business is how I run mine,” Vanessa interjects before Marianna can fume hotter.

“Mary knows the moment she wants another job, she has one. She doesn’t have to do this if she doesn’t want to, but, frankly, when we need something done right and done quietly, she’s the best for the job. Now are you done?”

I overstepped, I recognize this, but I still can’t help but feel like when it comes to Marianna, there is no such thing as me overstepping to keep her safe.

“But you want this? You choose this?”

“You’re acting like you’ve never killed before.” Marianna asks. “What, are you learning your wife’s not moral enough for you? Grow up.”

She stands from her chair, the last part spat under her breath like I’m the exasperating one here.

“Where are you going?” I ask, as she retreats from the room.

“To do my job,” she says without turning around.

After a silent moment in the office, I exhale through my nose and follow her out, waving at Sasha to join us.