Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Suddenly we’re approached on our other side and Sal’s voice joins the fray. “What the hell, is there a private party over here? How come we weren’t invited? I’m about to be offended.”

“For the love of God,” Dante says, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think my dear brother is enjoying the party, Sal. Maybe you should cut in,” Francesca suggests.

Sal lightly smacks himself in the head. “Why didn’t I think of that? See why I married her. Those Morelli smarts.”

Francesca grins, leaning in and giving him a kiss before breaking away. She winks at me as she grabs Dante’s arm and hauls him to a more remote corner of the dance floor.

“Bastard just can’t play nice, can he?” Sal remarks, putting a hand around my waist and taking the other one. Glancing at Adrian, who remains right where he is, Sal raises an eyebrow. “I think we got this under control now.”

“Yeah, too many white knights and only one princess,” Elise states, raising her eyebrows at Adrian.

He doesn’t look cowed, but he does drift away to his own spot on the dance floor.

“I couldn’t help noticing none of the knights riding to your rescue were your asshole husband,” Sal points out.

I grin, meeting the warm gray eyes of my nicer new brother-in-law. “I didn’t marry a white knight; I married the evil king.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Sal agrees.

“He would’ve saved me if I needed it,” I tell Sal, to reassure him. “I had things under control. Dante’s just threatened by the sides of me that intrigue Mateo. I’m glad he wasn’t boss back when I met the family. He definitely would’ve killed me. I’m sure he has his own issues that make him the way he is, though.”

Sal shakes his head. “You’re an odd girl, I’ll tell ya that.”

I flash him a teasing smile. “I’m not a girl, I’m a woman.”

“I’m married, not dead; I know you’re a woman.”

I laugh, glancing back over at Mateo and Bella. I expect him to be more relaxed now that I’m not dancing with Dante, but he’s openly scowling instead. “I think my husband is feeling threatened.”

“Damn right,” Sal says, puffing up. “I’m an intimidating motherfucker.”

I wink at Mateo, then turn my attention back to my dance partner. “How’s Mark? I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“He’s doing good.” Sal nods. “We seem to have cured him of his Head-Up-Ass Syndrome now that he’s not hanging around you anymore.”

I give him an exaggeratedly unapologetic shrug. “Only the mentally strong can hang with me. Sorry, Mark.”

“Apparently you melt the brain of any man who isn’t a straight sociopath,” Sal agrees, nodding.

Speaking of people whose brains I have melted, I ask, “Has anyone heard an update on Vince? For obvious reasons, I haven’t wanted to ask Mateo.”

His gaze automatically drops to my stomach.

“Eyes up here, buddy,” I state, darting a glance at Mateo. At least now he’s paying attention to Bella. I know the baby is still in my womb, but let’s not bring it up today.

“He’s still safely tucked away in Connecticut, last I heard.”

My eyebrows rise. “Connecticut? Is that where he is?”

“Goddammit. See, they need to give me better details if they want me to come in on this shit, like ‘hey, don’t tell Mia where Vince lives.’”

I smile faintly. “It’s not a secret, I just haven’t asked. I try not to bring him up to Mateo at all and he hasn’t been pressing the issue too hard lately, so I’m just avoiding the topic altogether in hopes he’ll forget. Every time it comes up, Mateo’s all, ‘hey, have you changed your mind about the value of Vince’s life? Can I murder him today without hurting you? No? Okay, I’ll ask again later.’”

Sal’s dark eyebrows rise and he shrugs. “For once, I can’t disagree with the guy. I’d have already killed the little asshole. You’re not even my girl, and he’s made my hit list.”

“I don’t want Vince to die, he just needs to let go of this idea he has of me and move on with his life. He can’t do that if he’s dead.”

Unmoved, Sal replies, “Should’ve thought of that before he hurt you.”

“Wounded people always hurt those who care about them, Sal. Look at Mateo. If he can find a way through it, surely Vince can.”

Sal snorts. “Mateo is not an example I’d hold up of someone who has moved past hurting people.”

I don’t bother arguing, I just let it go. It’s not like Mateo wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he’s certainly more careful than he was when I met him. The night Mateo and I talked in his library, the man was an island. He told me—and I still think he meant it—that he had no one. Adrian hated him; now here he is, best man in his wedding. Francesca wasn’t to be trusted any more than the sister who tried to kill him, and he married her off to his rival. His rival, currently dancing with me at our wedding, is no longer a rival.