Entrapment (Morelli Family 7.5)

Maybe I should come up with some excuse for her to leave the house tonight. She needs to be out of the house for the guys to approach her, but if I could send her somewhere after dinner, maybe we could get this all over with tonight. I could hold her tonight and chase away the misery I caused myself, tell her why I had to do it and get things on track a little bit sooner.

That’s maybe too obvious, though. Going to school is a normal part of her routine, she shouldn’t think anything of a cop approaching her that way. If I send her out on some random errand—after days of never allowing her to leave my bedroom—and then two cops showed up asking questions, she might get suspicious.

Probably better to leave it. I pull back my sleeve and check my watch.

Just a little over 12 hours.

I look back at Mia, watching as she chops up a pepper. She pauses and glances straight back at me, like she can feel my gaze on her.

That’s not true, though. If she could feel my gaze on her, she’d feel me all the time.

I catch Francesca’s gaze. Her brown eyes narrow at me like I’m the devil. I nod for her to come join me in the hall and step back out.

She comes out glaring, one hand propped on her hip. “What?”

“She only serves me now,” I inform her, so she can make the necessary arrangements.

Francesca regards me like I just slaughtered an entire cat family, right here before her very eyes. “You’re taking that from him, too?”

I roll my eyes at the thought of that little bastard. I may not deserve Mia, but he sure as hell didn’t. Picking fights with her over insignificant shit—he could sure learn how to pick his battles. Leaving her unattended over night when he knows I live here.

He never appreciated what he had, and Mia should be appreciated.

“I’ve already taken everything else,” I tell her. “Why not?”

Her lip curls up with disgust. “She shouldn’t have to serve you at all after what you’ve done to her. She’s not your woman, she’s just your prey.”

Well, that’s not true. Or, it won’t be soon. By next Sunday, Mia will be my woman; no one will have any questions about that.

Francesca can’t read my mind, so she goes on, still thinking to protect Mia from me. “Just let her serve Vince and I’ll bring you yours.”

“Nope.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” she flings back.

“I know,” I reply, growing bored of this interaction. “Just tell her so she knows—unless you’d rather I go tell her myself?”

Unguarded resentment passes across my sister’s pretty face and she shakes her head at me. “I’ll enforce it if that’s what you want,” she states, but unhappily. “I don’t understand why you made her come to dinner at all.”

“I’ve given her all week to myself,” I state. “Time to get back to normal.”

“Normal is her with Vince.”

I cut her a look of mild annoyance and turn away, tossing over my shoulder, “Not anymore.”

Instead of letting me go to my study, she calls out, “Why are you being so awful to her?”

I pause, giving her a chance to elaborate.

“If you like Mia, this isn’t the way to show it. If you don’t, this is just a horrible thing to do. That girl hasn’t done a damn thing to deserve your wrath.”

Up to this point, my sister is absolutely correct. Mia hasn’t done a damn thing to deserve any of this.

Hopefully, after tomorrow, I can say the same thing. Then I can pursue her with a clear conscience, unworried that she’ll ever harm any of us out of spite—aside from a good neck scrape, perhaps, if I piss her off.

I shouldn’t smile faintly at the memory, but I do anyway. She’s so sweet and loving, but the thought of my cock inside another woman makes her want to literally scratch my face off.

I can’t wait to tell her that was bullshit. I don’t like her thinking I did that—not after she made it so clear it would upset her. It would have been inexcusably dickish; I don’t blame her one bit for wanting to scratch my face off.

I remember Francesca is still standing behind me, waiting for a response, so before I head to my study, I offer back, “We’ll see.”

—

Dinner is served.

Well, the salads, anyway.

Tonight Mia brings out only one—only mine. She stops beside me, a vision in the beautiful dress I bought her, and puts the plate down in front of me. I look up at her to offer her a faint smile in thanks, but she isn’t looking at me. Her gaze is locked on Vince, so I turn my attention to him as well. He looks like he could snap at any moment. His jaw is locked, he grips the edge of the table. I glance down at Adrian and see he’s keeping an eye on the situation, too.