Entrapment (Morelli Family 7.5)

Could be worth the trouble.

We’ll see.

Since there’s nothing more I can do tonight, I lean forward and turn the monitor off, then I stand and head to my own bedroom to fall asleep alone.

ONCE BURNED

Deleted Scene One

This deleted scene would take place in the book after Mateo’s speech at dinner, announcing Joey’s death and his heightened expectation of loyalty.

Mia

The silence is the loudest thing in the house as I drop my purse on the kitchen counter and root around for my misplaced hair clip.

“That was fun,” Vince remarks, dropping onto the stool where our breakfast bar is. I think probably because of family dinners at the mansion, Vince is adamantly disinterested in acquiring a dining room table. The breakfast bar was a nice idea, but it generally just ends up collecting junk mail and my purse.

Vince eyes my purse. “He buy you that one?” he asks, when I ignore him.

“Yep,” I reply, without apology.

Vince nods, drumming his hands on the counter. “Cool.” He misses a beat. “So that was just an act then? You’re still pissed at me?”

“Of course I’m still pissed at you,” I tell him, finding the clip. I tug my hair back, twisting it up, and securing it. The house is humid again. The air’s working, so I don’t know why. Maybe it’s my insides that are hot. “Just not pissed enough to get you killed.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just sits there watching me move around the kitchen. I don’t even have anything to do now, but he’s watching me and I have nervous energy, so I grab a glass from the cupboard and the ice tray from the freezer. Maybe some cold water will cool me down.

“Remember when the idea of defending him was ridiculous to you?” Vince asks, but there’s no heat behind it. His temper isn’t engaged right now, he’s stuck in sad mode, and while part of me still wants to comfort him, the more dominant part is full of “fuck no.”

I don’t answer. The jab doesn’t require a response.

I come back with my own though. “Remember when you put my life at risk telling me about stupid shit I didn’t want to know you did, and then I had to keep a secret from the most dangerous man in our lives?” I look at him with false brightness, eyebrows raised. “Remember that?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, scowling at me. “To be fair, you asked.”

“I asked what was wrong with you,” I specify, wide-eyed. “I didn’t think you were fucking crazy enough for it to be this! I thought you were having a normal bad day. I was trying to be supportive.”

“And I was trying to be honest,” he fires back, his voice rising. “Excuse the fuck out of me for not lying, Mia. Must’ve slipped my mind that’s the only way we communicate with each other anymore.”

“Oh,” I mutter, feeling my face contort with disgust as I turn away, not wanting to look at him.

It’s not that he’s wrong. He’s just not supposed to talk about it.

Behind me, I hear him move off the stool. Everything tenses as I feel him come up behind me, his hand on my hip, turning me back to face him. “Don’t do that, Mia. Don’t hide from me.”

I don’t even want him touching me, so I brush his hand off, but remain facing him.

“I know I shouldn’t have told you,” he states, a tentative openness on his features. “I know that. I’m sorry. You don’t understand what I…” He trails off, looking away from me, shaking his head. “I was literally sick, Mia. I was a mess. All I wanted was to be close to the woman I love. I didn’t want the bullshit between us.”

I sigh, sagging a little. “I understand that. And… if it would’ve been anything else, I could’ve given you that.”

The openness slips away, a guarded pain sliding into its place. “But not when it’s him.”

“I can’t,” I say, staring at the ground, because I can’t look at his face anymore. I can’t see the pain, the betrayal, the disappointment. I’m too tired.

“Because you’re afraid he’ll kill you, or because you’re afraid he’d be disappointed in you?” he asks, his tone lightly scathing.

“I’m not doing this,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I’m not fighting with you about him.”

“Are we fighting?” he asks, his tone deceptively even. “I don’t think we’re fighting.”

“It always turns into a fight,” I say, looking at him just long enough to deliver a glare. “It definitely will now.”

“Not if you get on my side,” he returns.

“I’m not going to.” I didn’t even mean to say it, but it’s out there now, and he looks like I slapped him. I shake my head, unable to find even a scrap of remorse. “Not now. You took it too far. Your jealousy, your anger, your resentment, I’ve been dealing with all that, I’ve been doing my best to… not be on his side, and this is where it ended up.” I hold his gaze, seizing every inch of my ground. “You tried to have him killed, Vince. You tried to murder him. It may have been someone else’s gun, but you were the one who wanted him dead. And I won’t stand for that. You can be pissed at me, you can hate me, you can punish me, but I draw the line there. Going forward, I hope you would never be stupid enough to try something like this again, but I’ll promise you this—if you do, whether you fail or succeed, even if you manage to hang onto your life, you will lose me.”