Entrapment (Morelli Family 7.5)

“You’ll have to excuse me for rejecting my girlfriend’s rapist’s sex advice,” Vince says, doing his best to murder me with his glare.

I could say some pretty shattering shit in response to that, but I’m trying to be nice today, so I refrain. “Getting over that is lesson two. She has, so why haven’t you? At the very least, stop punishing her for it. It wasn’t her fault to begin with, she’s just perilously trusting.”

“I’m not talking about this with you. I’m not talking about any of this with you.”

I take a long sip of my drink. “Well, think it over. This is the last chance you’ll get to do right by her, so I would take it under advisement. If you choose not to, that’s on you.”

“Mia isn’t going anywhere.”

Cocky little shit. I could give him the keys to the kingdom, but I can’t make him turn the key in the lock.

“Okay,” I say, pushing off the desk and retrieving his empty glass. “Well, that’s all, then.”

He stands and I deposit both glasses on the edge of my desk, crossing my arms and watching as he walks toward the door. I feel bad for him, to be honest. He’s letting his anger and pride get the best of him, and he’ll end up paying a steep price for it. Mia’s a lot to lose.

He slows to a stop about halfway to the door. Without looking back at me, he asks, “Did she say something to you?”

“Yes.”

It’s as if a physical weight is suddenly added to his shoulders. “Of course she did,” he mutters.

“You have Ben’s temper,” I remark.

Turning back to look at me coldly, he corrects me. “I have Matt’s temper.”

I regard him for a moment, wondering not for the first time if I’ve underestimated him in the great scheme of things. There’s a darkness in Vince, a sleeper cell, and I don’t especially want to wake it up.

Because if that happens, I’ll have no choice but to kill him.

Then I’ll have to deal with Mia’s hysterics. Meg would probably be pissed at me. Francesca would be distraught. Adrian might disapprove. It would be a hassle, overall.

But my father was dangerous, and Vince has it in him to be, too.

“If you hurt her again, I’ll do more than punch you this time,” I warn him.

He glares. “You’re the one who hurts her, not me.”

Instead of engaging in some bullshit pissing contest like he seems inclined toward at the moment, I meet his gaze and tell him very simply, “I will not warn you again, Vince. When you walk out that door, when you go home to Mia tonight, do yourself a favor and leave the weight of this grudge behind. She’s sorry for whatever you need her to be sorry for. Accept it and move on.”

“Why warn me at all?” Vince asks.

“Because I love Mia,” I tell him, watching his face freeze, nearly feeling bad for it, but I don’t pause. “And Mia still loves you. But if you kill what’s left of that love, if you chase her back into my arms, I will never let her go again.”

As if he’s turned to stone, Vince just stands there fuming, waiting for more.

I have nothing more to say, so I take a seat at my desk, dismissing him as I draw out my phone and shoot a text to Adrian. I keep an ear on Vince, but I’d like him to leave now, so I don’t pay him any more attention.

I wonder if he’s tempted to shoot me again.

I’m sure he is.

That makes me smile.

Because of course he won’t. He’d love to, but he knows better. He has more to fear than my wrath, should I survive. Than Adrian’s retribution, supposing I didn’t.

At the core of it, it’s the same reason I don’t kill him.

Mia would never forgive him, either.

“I hate you,” Vince states.

“I know,” I reply, casually.

Finally, he turns and storms out of my study.

Between

RESISTING MATEO

and WINTER BLUES

Movie night

Pre-Winter Blues

Meg

“I think it’s the yellow one.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and staring at the three pronged nightmare in my hand. “I already tried the yellow one in the middle.”

“You’ve tried all of them in the middle,” Mia points out, sprawled in the floor next to me, flipping through a little white paper manual. “None of them have worked. It defies logic.”

“If you think you can do better, by my guest,” I state, sourly, as I glare at the cords keeping us all from family movie night. “This is all your fault, you know. You just had to buy a new one. The old one played all our movies just fine, but no, you had to ‘improve’ things.”

Wrinkling up her nose at my criticism, she complains, “This one was more energy efficient. I’m sorry I care about the planet.”

“Please.” I jam the yellow prong into the top hole. “We live in a McMansion on steroids; we’re not doing the planet any favors.”