Entrapment (Morelli Family 7.5)

Not for the first time, I consider just killing the bastard. It wouldn’t have to be obviously me. We aren’t fighting over anything right now. I could certainly convince Mia it was a sad accident. Hell, I could feign some regret over how I treated him in life, get her comforting me in the wake of his death.

I really, really like the idea of his death, because it almost certainly means I get Mia.

I’m harder pressed to envision a scenario where Vince dies and I don’t get Mia.

Of course, that didn’t go so well last time. I had her to myself for less than a week and nearly drove the poor girl out of her mind.

She has some sort of draw to me, of course, but she can’t handle the reality of me.

That brings my mood back down. Now mine matches Mia’s. Now her loneliness is contagious. I know we could cure that feeling—did, during the course of those days we spent together—but too much damage has been done and it’s not sustainable. My fault. I sit alone in my security room watching her life with someone else, she sits in her own house with an imbecile who doesn’t understand her, and it’s all my fault.

This was supposed to make her happy. He is supposed to make her happy.

Vince walks into the room. The smart thing for him to do after that would be to let it go. I’m already the five ton elephant sitting in the center of their living room, taking up every inch of comfortable space. He should drop it and move along to something more enjoyable. Relax with her, seduce her—anything.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“All I’m saying is, you’re acting like you’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not,” she states. She’s annoyed, but she keeps her tone even, clearly not wanting to escalate things. “I’m acting like I don’t care—because I don’t. Why should I?”

“This is not what it looks like when you don’t care,” he states. “I’m not an idiot, Mia. If he really raped you, why would you be jealous that he’s—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. My jaw even drops a few inches.

Mia stares at him, eyes wide, mouth agape, for a full minute before screeching, “If he raped me? If he really raped me? Did you just say if he raped me?”

It’s far too late now, but Vince wisely does not repeat the stupid thing he just said.

“Fuck you, Vince. Fuck you.” She nods her head decisively, like she wants to double down and she dares him to argue.

“Yeah, ‘fuck me’ is pretty much how it feels,” he finally says.

My head falls back against my chair in utter disbelief. This fucking kid.

Mia stares at him, eyes still wide, then she gets up off the couch and walks back into the kitchen. I have to switch cameras but I keep the living room on in the corner so I can keep an eye on him. Unease prickles through me and I grab my phone, shooting a quick text to Adrian to see what he’s doing in case I need him.

“What are you doing?” Vince demands.

“Leaving,” she states.

My gaze snaps back to the screen.

“Are you texting him?” Vince demands.

He knows she doesn’t have my phone number. Why does he have to pile stupid on top of stupid?

“I’m texting my mom. I would rather go there than be here with you,” she states.

He heads into the kitchen and I check my phone again. Come on, Adrian; be by your fucking phone.

Since he’s not answering (and he’s here) I scroll down to Dante’s number. I don’t want to call him, especially about this, but he lives near Vince and Mia; he could get there before I could.

Vince grabs Mia’s phone out of her hand. “You’re not going to your mom’s.”

“I didn’t ask your permission,” she flings back, reaching for the phone he holds out of her reach. “Give me my goddamn phone.”

“Who pays for it? I think it’s my phone.”

“Really?” she demands, glaring at him.

This is going to get ugly. I open a text message and ask Dante if he’s home.

Since Vince is being a dick, I’m anticipating he’ll escalate things. Normally when they fight, Mia is the peacekeeper. Whether she’s just fatigued by the same old unfair argument, or tonight was hard on her emotionally and her tolerance is worn down, I’m not quite sure.

I do not expect Vince to say, “I’m sorry, that was—that was a dick thing to say.”

Since he’s backing down and sounding genuinely remorseful for that particular dig, Mia keeps the mantle of anger. “Everything you’re saying to me right now is bullshit. All of it.”

Ordinarily, Vince is not the one to simmer down, but even he must realize he pushed too far tonight. Probably at the same time I grew alarmed—when she said she was leaving, and he didn’t know if she meant leaving him or just leaving the house for some space.