Family Ties (Morelli Family 4)

Vince is scowling at me.

I realize I’m still watching Mia. Obviously I’m not into her—even if I didn’t have Francesca, she’s a few years too young for me—but I pull my gaze away from her anyway so Francesca doesn’t see and get the wrong idea.

I’ll have to stop being so hard on Mark. He definitely can’t have her because Mateo will never allow it, but I kinda get it. There is something about her, something I can’t quite put my finger on, but I get it. She does have a pull, a sort of unabashed vulnerability that calls on your humanity. It feels like she desperately needs your protection because she has no fucking clue she’s in any kind of danger.

We see a lot of depravity in our world, not a whole lot of wide-eyed innocence. Especially after two Morellis have already unleashed themselves on her. Jesus. How is she so untarnished?

Shaking my head to clear all the Mia out, I lean in to give Francesca a little kiss. “I’m gonna go wash my hands before the food gets here.”

“Okay,” she says, smiling.

“Yeah, me too,” Vince says, eyes still on me as he slides out of his seat.

Aw, fucking shit. As soon as we’re out of earshot, I look over at him. Since he’s still watching me like he doesn’t trust me, I go ahead and say, “Chill out, Marky Mark, I don’t want to fuck your girlfriend.”

“Marky Mark?” he questions.

“Mark Wahlberg? Fear? He went all psycho over Reese Witherspoon?” His face registers absolutely no recognition. I shake my head, “God, you’re a baby. It’s a movie. Watch it sometime, you’ll like it.”

“I’m not a psycho,” he mutters, shoving his hands into his pocket. “Usually a guy looks at her that long, he does want to fuck her.”

“I know, I was trying to figure out why. Purely academic.”

“Yeah, you seem real scholarly,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I grin at him and head into the bathroom. There are three sinks, but he occupies the one right next to me. I glance over at him as I rinse my hands, wondering how I’d feel in the same situation. I guess I’d be pretty pissed off, too. He is a jealous asshole, but I do know of two other men who actively want to fuck his girlfriend, so maybe it’s warranted.

Ordinarily I’m not one to offer unsolicited advice—I’ll leave that to Francesca, my little meddler—but since I know what kind of advice Francesca’s doling out to his competition, I decide to make an exception.

“Can I give you a pro-tip?”

He glances over at me, quirking an eyebrow in question.

“Stop being such a dick to her. That only works to get the girl; once you have her, if you want to keep her, you have to stop being a dick. Also: jealousy isn’t cute. Possessiveness works in small doses, but doses large enough that you start treating her like garbage? Nope.”

He frowns, turning off the faucet and grabbing a paper towel. “You’re right, that advice was unsolicited.”

“I’m just saying. If you have a girlfriend other guys are trying to get with, you gotta step up your game. Sulking isn’t going to keep her.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” he mutters.

“Well, it might also make you both happier. You’ve got a Sid and Nancy vibe going on out there. It’s not healthy.”

I don’t think he gets that reference either. He gets the picture, though. Bending down, he checks for feet in the stalls, then pops back up and says, “We weren’t always like this.”

Well, I guess I opened the door to this when I gave the damn kid advice. Sighing, I cross my arms over my chest. “Something happen?”

Nodding, he says, “I guess I found the one thing Mia won’t forgive.”

I don’t think I want to hear anymore, but before I can stop him, he goes on.

“Ever since I told her I was involved in the hit on Mateo, she’s stopped acting like my girlfriend. She’s still there physically, but she checked out—”

I hold up a hand to stop him, my jaw inching open. “Wait, what?”

He blinks at me, apparently unsure which aspect of that I’m objecting to.

“You told her? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Vince’s eyes widen. “I had to scrape my best friend’s brain off the motherfucking floor, that’s what was wrong with me!”

My hands fly to my head, moving through my hair as I go over everything Francesca has said to me. Mateo has surveillance on Vince’s house. I don’t know how well he monitors it, but it stands to reason that following an attempt on his life, he might spend a little more time watching tape of the relative he’s given the most cause to hate him. “Where did you tell her? At your house?” When he nods, confused as to why I’m so pissed off, I lose my temper. Grabbing the little asshole by the shirt, I throw him against the wall and hold him there. “What did you say? What, exactly, did you fucking say to her?”