Family Ties (Morelli Family 4)

“That’s it.” She holds out her hand in my direction as I guide her through the crowd. “Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?” I ask, lost.

“Your badass card,” she shoots back, her eyes alight with mischief. “You don’t get to keep it after this.”

“Psh, you’ve got it all wrong,” I tell her, my hand drifting around to her hip. God, I love touching her. “You like the ballet, so I brought you. There’s nothing more badass than pleasing your lady. I get the platinum package for this.”

“You must not belong to the same club I’m familiar with,” she tells me, smiling wryly.

“Your club sucks. My club’s awesome. Anyone who matters is a member of my club.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” she says, catching the hand I have on her hip and lacing our fingers together. “The Salvatore club is the only club I ever want to go to.”

“It’s the only one you’re allowed to go to now,” I tease.

“Don’t give me any of that lip, mister,” she shoots back.

“I’ll give you all the lip I want.”

She glances back, grinning up at me. “I like you.”

I give her a little wink and take the lead, moving through the crowd so we can get to our seats.

Turns out the ballet is boring as fuck, but Francesca seems to love it. I chalk it up to one of the many mysteries of womanhood and hope I never have to bring her to another one.

On the way out, we stop in the gift shop. She looks at DVDs of the show we just watched, like she might actually sit through that again voluntarily. We don’t buy one, though. I pick out a little stretch bracelet with cheap sapphire blue beads and gold-colored treble clef charm. I buy it for her, and she waits with as much excitement for me to slip this $20 trinket on her wrist as she would something from Tiffany’s.

She looks so happy as we walk outside. I want to get a car, but everyone’s trying to leave and it’s actually pretty nice out, so we decide just to walk to the bar. Probably shouldn’t; that’s not going to leave much time to grab a drink before we have to go get our crap and head for the airport.

I hate that today’s ending. I hate that we have to go back home. I wish we could stay here. I love Chicago, but I love taking Francesca out without fear of repercussions a whole lot more.

“What was your favorite part?” she asks me, gazing up at me. She’s so cheerful, so relaxed. I love seeing her like this.

“My favorite part of the ballet?” I question, trying to recall even one thing from the boring-ass shit that happened on that stage. She nods enthusiastically, and I offer a smooth smile. “My favorite part was watching you.”

She elbows me, leaning into my side. “That’s such a cheaty answer.”

“A cheaty answer?” I tease. “Is that an official term?”

“It’s an official terms for cheaters who cheat a lot when asked questions.”

“Hey, it was an honest answer.”

“Cheater.”

“Nah.” I loop my arm around her neck, tugging her into my chest. “Truest answer I could’ve given.”

Smiling up at me, she rests her hand on my forearm as we walk. “You hated it, didn’t you?”

“I loved seeing you enjoy it,” I reply diplomatically.

She grins. “You hated it. That’s okay. I still appreciate you taking me.”

I slow to a stop, gesturing toward a set of metal steps, leading to an underground alley. “Here we are.”

Francesca raises her eyebrows skeptically. “This is our final destination? Is this the part where you lure me into human trafficking?”

“Nah, that’s your family’s racket, not mine.”

This seems to please her. “Oh, good. None at all?”

“I mean, some prostitution, but on a voluntary basis. Nothing like Delmonico’s fucked up operation.”

Her smile melts right off her face and she looks down at the steps.

“We don’t have to go here if you’re not comfortable with it,” I assure her. “There’s a hotel bar, we can just grab a drink there instead.”

“Do you work with him?”

I frown. “Who?”

“That name—he works for my brother. Why do you know about his operation?”

Goddammit, is she seriously back on the idea of me using her to spy on her goddamn brother? “His operation’s not a well-kept secret, Francesca. Of course I don’t work with him. Your brother and I co-exist; we don’t share rackets. I wouldn’t touch that dirty shit if he offered.”

She nods, but her sparkle’s still gone.

“You can’t seriously still harbor doubts that I’m playing some game with your brother,” I add, unable to help myself. “You think I’d be doing all this, trying this hard to spy on your brother’s shit? I can tell you this much, I’d rather sit through ten guys getting tortured than ever sit through another ballet again in my life. And if you asked me to take you to another one? I still would. I’m here because I like you, not for any other reason.”