Entrapment (Morelli Family 7.5)

This is miserable.

This bed is fucking lonely.

I’m sorely tempted to storm into Vince’s bedroom, rip Mia out of his bed, and haul her ass back here. I gave her a chance to make the right choice and she made the wrong one. She’s 18; of course she made the wrong one.

Only I can’t get her voice out of my head, begging me to leave her alone.

If Mia wanted to be in this bed with me right now, she would be. She struggled to get used to being in my bed, to let go of Vince even after the incident in the hallway, but she didn’t struggle one bit to leave me at the dining room table.

I’ve already forced one woman who didn’t love me to stay here, and look where that ended up. Maybe it’s good Mia broke away from me now, while she still could. Before I could get attached.

If this is what unattached feels like, anyway.

I lie here longer than I should, lonely in the bed that felt warm just a night before, but my curiosity gets the better of me. My imagination gets away from me, conjures up possibilities. What if she had second thoughts, but Vince wouldn’t let her leave? What if they went back to his room and realized it didn’t feel right?

I’m latching onto frankly ridiculous notions, and the bed is lonely anyway, so I finally go back downstairs to my study. I pour myself a drink and head for the security room. There’s little chance this is going to end with me not being depressed, but I’d almost rather see Mia on the screens, even if she’s with Vince, than go back to my room alone anyway.

At least, that’s what I thought. Until I watch the fucking tape.

I didn’t want him. Doesn’t that count for anything?

I’m so fucking twisted up between the two of you.

He asks her why she stayed with me—he doesn’t realize I had Adrian guarding her, but she doesn’t even tell him. Doesn’t even defend herself. She tells him she didn’t think he wanted her to come back and she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

It only gets worse.

Then I want to go up there and rip one of them out of bed, but it’s not Mia.

Rage vibrates through me, helpless fucking rage. He jerks her dress up, shoves her on the bed. I’m overcome with dread. It’s too late now, but I could have stopped this. Why am I just now watching this footage? Why didn’t I send Adrian after him when he dragged her away from the table? Why didn’t I go myself?

She panics. She cries.

He’s angry. He ignores her pleas to stop.

I bury my face in my hands.

I try to bury the rage that burns in my gut.

I’m going to kill that little bastard. He takes Mia away from me and then treats her like that?

Goddammit.

I don’t want to watch any more, but I have to make sure she’s okay. I throw back the rest of my drink and sit forward, watching Vince emerge from the bathroom and sit on the edge of the bed. I watch him get on the bed behind her and wrap his arms around her. She doesn’t look happy, to say the least, but she lets him hold her the way she let me hold her.

I’m empty. I’ve fucked everything up. All I want is to go back to my bed and find Mia there. All I want is to wrap my arms around her and fall asleep with her in my bed.

Instead, I return my room alone.

I strip off my clothes and lie down alone, my eyes on the depression in the bed that Mia left. Tomorrow morning Maria will come. She’ll change the sheets like she did before Mia. Put the whole bed to rights, tightly tucked corners, a mountain of decorative pillows.

But it will still be emptier than it ever was.

Tomorrow Mia will wake up and leave for school, having been hurt by both of us today.

And she’ll talk. She would have to be crazy not to, at this point.

One more day, I thought.

I was right, in one respect. I only had one more day. I just didn’t realize I only had one more day with Mia.

—

I’ve never felt much for thunderstorms one way or the other—never feared them as a child, never saw the relaxing pleasure of them as an adult. I don’t have time in my schedule to curl up under a blanket with a book or loved one on a rainy day. I probably wouldn’t even if I did.

But now, as I lie in my bed awake, abandoned by the possibility of sleep, I loathe the roar of thunder in the distance. I despise the blue flash that lights up my window as lightning strikes. The rain pelting the side of my house enrages me.