“Meg got shot.”
“Not your problem,” she reminds me, putting the salt shaker down and stirring.
“Someone’s going to kill him,” I state.
“Without a doubt,” she replies, raising her eyebrows.
“I couldn’t let that happen.”
She shrugs, as if to say without words we’ll have to agree to disagree. I know she’s not Mateo’s biggest fan, but I’m still surprised she’s so ambivalent about his potential demise. Mateo’s never been bad to Cherie, but he’s never been good to her, either. She’s the only person in his life who doesn’t seem to find him charming—even as a kid, she always liked me more.
“It wouldn’t make a difference anyway,” I tell her, though I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her, or myself. “The world wouldn’t really be better off without him.”
“You sure?” she asks.
“Dante wouldn’t be a better head of the family, believe me.”
“Vince would,” she says quietly, almost under her breath.
Dread rolls over me that she would even think that, let alone say it. I ease back, glancing around the room, trying not to look at the cameras. “We shouldn’t talk about this,” I decide, not wanting her to get in trouble.
“You like Vince.”
“Cherie.” I stare at her, lowering my voice. “That’s never gonna happen. And he’s way too young, anyway.”
“Mateo was young when he pushed Matt out.”
I rub the back of my neck, moving away from the counter, pacing a couple feet away. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She merely raises her eyebrows noncommittally and places the spoon down on a dish, turning to face me. “Then what did you want to talk to me about?”
Now I kind of do want to talk to her about this, but not where Mateo could listen in on the conversation if he felt like it. Definitely not mere feet from Meg and Mia, both of whom would report straight back to Mateo if they overheard us. I lean in close, so I can speak lowly. “You can’t say shit like that, Cherie.”
“He’s a jerk,” she whispers back.
“Has Vince mentioned this to you?”
“Of course not,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Vince doesn’t even want to be in the family business, let alone run it.”
That eases a little of the weight on my shoulders, so I ease back, sighing. I’m already running out of juice, but I should say what I came to say. “You need to stay away from McGregor.”
Nodding knowingly, she turns back to the stove. “I knew that’s why you came in here.”
“He’s not a good guy, Cherie.”
“I’m not convinced good guys exist,” she states. “I’ve sure never met one.”
“Even so, he falls too far on the bad end of the spectrum. You don’t want a guy like that. Wait until you start college, you can meet someone normal.”
“Mateo’s sending me to school in Chicago. With Mia. It’s going to be just like high school. As soon as people find out who I’m related to, no one’s going to want to have a relationship with me unless they’re total a weirdo. If he would’ve let me go away, maybe, but Mom didn’t want him to, and he doesn’t care what I want.”
I’m rethinking my newfound desire to have a daughter. Sure, they might have cute pigtails and make muffins with their mom for a time, but then they’ll grow up and want to date assholes. Is it really worth it?
“I could try talking to him, if you really want to go away to school.”
She shakes her head, aggravated. “It won’t matter. Mom has that smug look when we talk about it, so I know she’s already talked to him. He’s not gonna piss Mom off—she might start putting his decorative pillows out of order or something.”
I bite back a smile. She’s not wrong.
Meg drifts over toward me, just seeming to realize I’m in the kitchen. “Are you lost? Drinks are that way,” she says, indicating the door.
I shake my head, glancing down at her abdomen. “Just trying to talk some sense into this one. How are you feeling?”
“I’m much better,” she assures me.
“Where’s your bodyguard?”
Meg smirks, her gaze drifting to Cherie, then back to me. “Having drinks with the boys.”
“Is that what he’s paid for?”
“I’m pretty safe inside these walls,” she points out.
“I wouldn’t say the same for him,” I mutter, glancing back at Cherie before heading for the door. I’ll have to warn him off, since Cherie won’t listen to me.
“No murdering,” Meg calls after me. “Mateo’s orders!”
When I get to the study, that smug, Irish son of a bitch is sitting in my chair. Joey and Vince are across from each other, talking, and Alec is in the other one.
Even though I normally don’t, I decide to go stand by Mateo at his desk.
“All well with the ladies?” he asks.
“I don’t trust McGregor around Cherie,” I state.
“He’s just a harmless flirt,” Mateo says, dismissively.