“He’s very reasonable,” I agree, nodding.
“Aside from trying to make Vince want to murder him,” Sal adds. “That’s not terribly reasonable.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” I admit.
“I’m not sure if ‘hey, remember when I used to fuck your girlfriend?’ or ‘hey, remember when I used to rape your girlfriend?’ applies, but either way, it was pretty fucked up and a good way to make Vince homicidal.”
“Vince knows better,” I assure him. “Mateo may piss him off, he may even hate him, but Vince knows that Mateo is… to use Mia’s word, ungovernable. He’s the king around here. His word is law. He takes what he wants; he does what he wants—you’ve seen it. We can balk and complain all we want, but that’s it. No one can do anything about it. Ultimately Mateo can treat any of us however he wants to. Makes it more special when he decides to be nice, I guess.”
Sal does not appear to be impressed, but he doesn’t remark upon it. Maybe he would if we were home and had a reasonable expectation of privacy, or maybe he wouldn’t because he doesn’t like to fight with me about my brother.
Whatever his reason, I’m happy to let it drop. “I should probably pick out a dress to wear for dinner.”
“I should probably mentally prepare to keep my mouth shut. I bet it’s gonna be hard.”
“Salvatore Castellanos, defender of women,” I say dramatically.
“I mean, they can’t punish him so they have to blame Mia, right?”
“Most likely,” I verify, nodding. “Mia’s a lot stronger than she looks though, she’ll be fine. She knows the drill.”
“That’s terrible,” he states.
I nod, dropping a kiss on his lips before announcing, “You’re right, you should start mentally preparing now so you can keep quiet at dinner.”
As I roll out of bed and go to my closet, Sal calls out, “Your brother’s an evil dictator.”
I step back into the doorway, peeking around the frame to remind Sal, “An evil dictator who is giving you the opportunity to cross a name off the top of your ever-growing hit list.”
Sal scowls. “Damn. You’re right. I guess he’s not so bad.”
I grin and give Sal a little wink. “There you go. Just drink the Kool-Aid, babe. Just drink the Kool-Aid.”
Chapter Forty Five
Francesca
The dinner routine begins about as well as can be expected. The men take their drinks in the study while the women cook. I don’t know if I want to keep a better eye on Meg and Mia, or Mateo and Vince, but since I determine the latter pairing to be more potentially explosive, I do the pre-dinner drinks.
Mateo is for the most part unaffected, but why wouldn’t he be? Mateo provided the stimulus; Vince is the one being tested.
As any one of us could’ve hypothesized, Vince sits in his wing chair, pissed off at the world and unable to do a damn thing about it. All he can do is radiate anger and drink, so that’s what he does. I try to keep his alcohol consumption in check, but he doesn’t allow it tonight. When I conveniently forget to refill his empty drink glass for the third time, he gets up and goes to fill it himself.
Mateo’s gaze flickers in Vince’s direction as he does, and I swear I catch him faintly shake his head to himself before turning his attention to his own drink.
I don’t know exactly what Vince’s test was, but I think he’s failing.
After I fill the last glass, I make my way to the kitchen to check on things there. Even though Meg prides herself on her utter lack of jealousy, I can’t help watching her for signs she’d like to rip Mia’s spine out. I don’t find any, though. Meg’s poker face is pretty good. If she’s annoyed, it’s impossible to tell; she looks as cool and content as ever.
Mia doesn’t. Mia has no poker face; she wears her heart in her eyes, and right now those eyes are solemn. Once the men come to the table, anxiety joins the mix. Vince eyes her as he takes his seat at the table, and the look she gives him is guarded at best. Her words about being a little afraid of him come to mind and anxiety gathers in my chest.
On our way back into the kitchen to grab salads, I lightly touch her arm to get her attention. “You good?”
“Mm hmm,” she murmurs, nodding and offering a brief, joyless smile. “All good.”
We grab salads for ourselves and our men and head back to the table. I wasn’t sure we’d make it through salads without someone sniping at someone else, but Vince and Mia are silent while everyone else chats so things remain civil.
By the end of his salad, though, Vince picks up his empty drink glass and shakes it for Mia. “Empty.”