Family Ties (Morelli Family 4)

“Your brother knew what this fuck did, how he used you, and he kept him on his fucking payroll?”

“He makes my brother a lot of money.” The way she says this, it’s like she knows this is bullshit, but does she know? Does she know how incredibly fucked up that is?

“He still works for him?”

I don’t remember the last time I felt rage like this. I don’t remember the last time I felt this angry, and simultaneously this helpless to do a goddamn thing about it.

She nods her head, resting back against the pillows. “Yep. It’s more important to be useful than to be a good person in my family. So, that’s the story of my first love. I loved a black hole, and I never got my heart or my trust back.”

“What’s his name?”

Smiling slightly, she cuts a glance my way and shakes her head.

“So I’d know his name?”

“I imagine you would,” she says, nodding. “It doesn’t matter. What good would it do?”

“Well, he just moved up a spot on my hit list, so I think it might do a lot of good. Who the fuck is this asshole? I have to know.”

“I won’t tell you that. It would do no good to tell you. You can’t do anything to him. That my brother would respond to.”

“He’s a useless fuck.”

Cracking a smile, she asks, “My brother, or my first love?”

“Both,” I mutter. “What kind of fucking brother sees some asshole mistreating his sister and says, oh, hey, I should hire this stupid fuck?”

“The kind I have,” she answers.

“Well, fuck your brother. Fuck your whole family. They’re a dysfunctional band of fucking assholes.”

Smiling, she moves over closer to me, lying down so her head’s in my lap. “They’re not the greatest,” she agrees.

“It’s not funny,” I tell her, hating that she’s smiling, trying to put a brave face on this bullshit. “It’s not funny at all. They’re your family. And they’re fucking powerful—I know the power they have. There’s no excuse for this. If you were my family, if someone ever did that to you or anyone I loved, I would use every fucking resource I have to bury them. I would destroy that fucking asshole. You don’t reward shit like that. That’s fucked up.”

After a moment, she says, “When you first came into the bakery, I thought of that. But your eyes weren’t empty like his. I didn’t see it in the beginning, since I wasn’t looking for it, but I realized afterward, maybe I should’ve been able to pick up on that. His eyes were just… empty. Not even empty like Mateo’s can be sometimes, like constantly vacant. And there were little things, times he should’ve wondered if I was okay and he didn’t. Like, the first time we had sex, he hurt me, and I remember not wanting him to feel bad, and wanting to reassure him, but he didn’t need it. He didn’t ask if I was okay, he didn’t care. And I just thought he was maybe embarrassed? Or he felt guilty but he didn’t show it the normal way? I made excuses, but… he just didn’t care.”

“I want to fucking kill your brother right now,” I tell her, still so hot with anger I want to rip my clothes off and bathe in a tub of ice. This impotent rage thing isn’t familiar. Usually if I feel rage, I can do something about it. I can’t do shit about this. She won’t even tell me who this fuck is, and if she did, I can’t exactly go to Mateo and demand he fire the asshole.

I want to be able to. I want to be in a position to make demands on Francesca’s behalf, to protect her from anyone who would hurt her.

She looks up at me from my lap, her beautiful brown eyes connecting with the angry gray depths of mine, and suddenly she’s sitting up, touching my face, smiling softly.

“Your eyes aren’t empty,” she tells me, and hers shine. Somehow even after that story, even after that experience, even after growing up undervalued in a den of snakes, she still has such a gentle, kind nature.

“I could never feel empty looking at you,” I tell her, honestly.

Smiling sweetly, she leans into me to give me a kiss. It’s the same light, reserved, close-mouthed kiss like she’s given me each time until now and I’ve been fine with that up until today. Today it isn’t enough. Bracing my hand on the back of her head, I pull her closer, guiding her until she’s sitting on my lap facing me, straddling me, her knees on either side of my body. When her lips remain closed, I urge her with my mouth to open them. I want her to let me inside, in every way. I want into her body, her heart, her mind, her soul, her life. I want to bring an army with me to clear out every last dark corner, to repair every single wound that’s ever been inflicted.