Family Ties (Morelli Family 4)

I tell myself he must’ve already intended on doing something like this. He isn’t so easily influenced or impulsive that my drunken advice about moving on would’ve pushed him to do something with so many aftershocks. It’s not my fault Vince is a mess. It’s not my fault Mia is hidden away in Mateo’s bedroom.

It feels a little like my fault, though.

Mia stops showing up to dinner. I guess she probably can’t face Vince, which I sort of understand. I can’t go see Sal much anymore, because Mateo still comes, and we’re all so stressed out that I’m afraid to step out of line. He’s probably distracted with her since he likes new toys, but no one actually sees them together, so it’s impossible to know.

Until Elise comes to find me before she starts making dinner.

“I need to ask you a favor.”

I blink in surprise. “Sure, what can I do for you?”

Clearing her throat, her gaze darts away from me. She brings it back, but it seems to take some discipline. “I need you to tell Mateo I changed my mind about Adrian. I want to go with him when he leaves.”

I’m not shocked that she changed her mind, but I am shocked she’s not jumping all over a chance to talk to Mateo alone. Maybe she thinks if she’s in front of him, she won’t be able to stick to it. Maybe she just wants to start conditioning herself to be loyal to Adrian. Either way, I approve.

“You don’t want to tell him yourself?” I ask, failing to hide my surprise. I would worry about embarrassing her, but it’s not like her crush on my brother is a well-kept secret. Anyone can see it if they spend more than five minutes watching her around him.

Elise shakes her head a little sadly, her eyes dropping. “I don’t want to be alone with him.”

I nod my understanding. This probably wasn’t an easy decision for her to come to, but maybe seeing him steal Mia from Vince was a wake-up call. Maybe she finally sees there’s no future for her with him—not that this affair with Mia is likely to last, but it probably makes her jealous. Elise has been here under his nose for years, longing for him, and now Mia shows up, not even available, and snags his interest.

“For what it’s worth, you’re making the right choice,” I tell her. “Adrian is a wonderful man and he absolutely adores you. I know you like Mateo, but—”

“I don’t like Mateo anymore,” she states, more resolutely than I’ve ever heard Elise before. Her blue-eyed gaze rises to mine, a little fire behind them. “You know he’s hurting her in there, right? She’s not in his bed because she wants to be. He’s raping her.”

My stomach bottoms out and I start shaking my head before I’m even aware of what I’m doing. “What? No. No, he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that.”

Her eyes widen and she nods. “I changed the sheets. I saw her. She’s not in good shape.”

“I’m sure you misunderstood,” I attempt again, refusing to believe this.

“She made it pretty clear. She wanted me to know what he was doing to her.”

Elise doesn’t stay and try to convince me since she needs to go start dinner, but her words linger long after she’s gone. I can’t tamp down the horrible imagery her words inspire. Memories more than imagery, I guess. I know first-hand what sexual violence feels like. Mine was with someone I at least chose to be with, but my heart beats irregularly in my chest as I try to wrap my head around Mia in Mateo’s bed, and him hurting her.

I know my brother is a bastard, but a rapist?

Anger and adrenaline mix together. I’m tempted to go check on Mia, but I can’t. I’m too cowardly to face her if Elise is right, and Mateo may be a liar, but he’s not one to shirk accountability, so I go straight to the source.

Adrian is in the room with him, but no one else. I shouldn’t blow up at him with witnesses, but at this point I’m feeling so much pressure smoke should be coming out of my ears; I couldn’t stop myself if the Pope was visiting.

He opens his mouth to greet me, but I don’t even let him speak. “Did you rape Mia?”

Out of my peripherals, I see Adrian rock forward, covering his face with his hands. I hold Mateo’s gaze though, and he holds mine. He doesn’t say a word, and that’s answer enough. He should be offended by such a question. His face should show signs of disgust that I would ever think such a thing, let alone insult him by asking.

It doesn’t. His face remains guarded, but impassive.

“You really did, didn’t you? What is wrong with you? What the hell is wrong with you?”