Family Ties (Morelli Family, #4)

by Sam Mariano

  She finally arrives at, “How did you guys meet?”

  “At the bakery,” Francesca answers.

  “I came for a cupcake and left with her heart,” I joke.

  Pointing at me accusingly, she tells Mia, “He says things like that.”

  Mia is already grasping her heart dramatically. “I’m so excited, I can’t even find the words. When Mark first said he wanted to—” She freezes, glancing at me, then preemptively amends what Mark said, “When Mark said he wanted you, I wasn’t sure if you had a clandestine romance going on, or he was trying to Castellanos trap you. I didn’t know what to think and they were too busy with dumb stuff to clue me in.”

  “Dumb stuff,” I say, amused at her retelling of events. Mark described the scene she’s referring to, and he was afraid of getting shot while Mateo was apparently being a dick, but she makes it sound like they were playing hacky sack.

  Nodding, she says, “It’s probably not dumb stuff to you, but I was much more interested in this story than your tiff with Mateo.”

  “My tiff.” I lean back in my seat, grinning at her reducing a mob war to a tiff.

  “I’m so happy for you both,” Mia says. “I wish Francesca could’ve told me. I’m glad she didn’t,” she assures us both, “because I cannot keep a secret to save my life, but I wish we could’ve commiserated.”

  “I’ll make a note about that secret thing,” I tell her, nodding.

  “Please do,” she agrees, nodding and grabbing a fry from the giant tray at the center of the table.

  “I think you’ve leveled up your secret-keeping skills,” Vince remarks.

  “But I don’t like keeping secrets, so I don’t want people to tell me any,” she amends.

  I want to ask her what she told Mateo about Mark on their car ride yesterday, but in light of Vince sitting here, I steer toward friendlier waters.

  “So, Francesca tells me you’re starting college in the fall.”

  I don’t know how it’s possible, but she lights up even more. “Yep. I’m excited.”

  “What are you studying?”

  Grabbing her water glass and pulling it close, she starts stirring the ice with her straw. “I’m not really sure yet. I didn’t think I was going to be able to go so I didn’t really plan for it. I was just going to get a job once I graduated and see how that panned out. I’m just taking general education classes the first year anyway though, so I have time to decide. I’ll take like a literature class and psychology and then a couple of less fun things to get them out of the way, probably. I’d love to just study psychology the whole four years,” she says, smiling faintly and nudging Vince. “Maybe I’d have a better grasp on the Morelli family.”

  Offering a smile, I tell her, “It seems like you’ve got a pretty good grasp already.”

  “I pick up what I can,” she tells me, smiling. “But yeah, I probably won’t spend the whole four years studying that because I should probably study something that enables me to get an actual job once I graduate.”

  “I wasn’t entirely sure Morelli women were allowed to work outside of the bakery,” I remark.

  Francesca answers that one. “That’s more Mateo’s thing. Vince, Joey, Alec, Dante, they don’t care. Dante’s ex actually owned her own flower shop.”

  Vince’s mood perceptibly darkens at the mere mention of Mateo’s name.

  “Not his ex anymore,” Mia volunteers.

  “Hm?”

  “Dante—the one that kinda looks like Mateo? I finally met him. He brought that girl over while you were gone. She wasn’t happy about it. But he brought her to family dinner, so I assume they’re back together. Mateo said she was doing the flowers for Matt’s funeral, so presumably she’s still in the picture.”

  Now Francesca is very interested. “Really? Well, that’s neat. I liked Colette.”

  “I didn’t; she seems mean.”

  For some reason, in defense of this Colette person, Vince tells Mia, “Well, not everyone takes to being essentially taken hostage the way you do.”

  “I’ve never been taken hostage,” Mia says dismissively, like he’s crazy.

  “Remember yesterday?” he asks, eyebrow rising.

  “Mark was helping me out—not taking me hostage.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real swell guy helping you out,” Vince says sarcastically.

  Flashing me and Francesca a smile, she says, “Some guys would just be happy their girlfriends came out of the situation safely, but I was saved by the wrong people, so...”

  “Hey, if anyone would’ve bothered to call me, I would’ve come riding to your rescue, too,” Vince states.

  “Yeah, but nobody was trying to kill you. He could’ve been walking right into a trap, and he still showed up. I know he’s not your favorite person, but you have to give him a little credit.”

  “All hail Mateo.”

  I think Mia growls inaudibly, but I can’t really blame her. I want to kick him under the table myself.

  “Anyway,” Mia says, glancing up at me, faintly apologetic. “Um, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Mark since, but tell him I really appreciated him doing that. And, I guess I should extend that to you too, because of the… sweatpants guy. Sorry about that.”

  Is she really apologizing to me because the guy who came to kill her was murdered? She is, isn’t she?

  She slides a cautious glance Vince’s way like she knows she’s asking for trouble, but she goes on to add, “Mateo wasn’t very happy when he found out Mark was on your payroll, but I tried to defend him as much as I could. I just didn’t have any idea why he actually was there, so it was kind of hard. But him saving me from Sweatpants was a pretty solid point in his favor. It seemed like it worked. After I talked to him, Mateo didn’t seem mad or anything.”

  I can only faintly smile at how differently she sees that whole interaction from how Mateo took it. Here she is telling me it’s all good and she fixed it, and just yesterday he was nailing my balls to the wall with whatever he got out of her. I assumed she knew she ratted Mark out, but sitting here looking at her clear blue eyes, so confident she helped when she definitely didn’t, I realize it wasn’t like that at all. She’s just fucking clueless.

  It’s a good thing she’s pretty.

  Maybe that’s not fair. She’s fresh out of high school. Surely a little more time with the Morellis will knock that naivety right out of her. If Vince doesn’t cure her of it, Mateo will surely sponge off her innocence until there’s none left.

  It’s almost refreshing, to be honest. It’s like she has no idea that we’re bad guys. My family could’ve left a religious pamphlet in her door instead of sending a guy to kill her yesterday and there’d be no difference. Someone needs to follow this girl around and keep her from getting herself killed, because I bet she’d hop right into one of those white murder vans with a man looking for his lost puppy.

  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?”

  Clearly I’ve taken him off-guard. He just stares at me, wordless and baffled.

  The door opens and some balding asshole starts to walk in.

  “Bathroom’s out of order,” I bark at him.

  The guy’s eyes go wide behind his spectacles and he about trips over his feet turning around to leave us alone.

  “Why are you so pissed off?” Vince asks, scowling down at my hand on his shirt. “Get your hands off me!”

  Instead, I push him against the wall a little harder. “I asked you a question.”

  “I don’t remember what I said word for word.”

  “Did you mention me?” I demand.

  “Of course I didn’t, I’m not a fucking moron.”

  “Never?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “No,” he says, glaring at me. “You think she’d be so fucking friendly to you if she knew you were as willing to kill him as I was? We pinned the whole thing solely on your dad, like we talked about. I wasn’t ratting on anyone but myself, I just… wanted to be honest with my own girlfriend.”

  I roll my eyes, but release the idiot. I can breathe again, but just barely.

  “You ever say a fucking word to implicate me, Vince, I guarantee I’ll put a bullet between your eyes before Mateo can.”

  “No shit,” he says, glaring at me while he jerks his shoulders and straightens his shirt. “I take it you didn’t tell Francesca.”

  “Of course I didn’t fucking tell Francesca. There’s a time and place for honesty, kid, and this ain’t it. Some of us actually have brains in our heads and know when to keep shit to ourselves. Jesus Christ. You gotta wise up or you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

  “I thought she was on my side,” he mutters, still a little butthurt that I manhandled him a second ago. I don’t give a fuck. This little asshole was high-risk to begin with, Mark tried to tell me that, but I’m starting to think he’s better off dead.

  “No one’s on your side,” I inform him. “You try something like that and fail, you tell no one. You try to convince yourself you had no part in it. You do not confess your sins, not to anyone, not with a fucking gun to your head. Keep your fucking mouth shut is the first lesson you should’ve learned. Mateo really doesn’t teach you shit, does he?”

  “I do keep my mouth shut.” He shoots me another glare, not appreciating my evaluation of his skills. “I don’t tell Mia about business shit, but this wasn’t business. She should want him dead.”

  “That’s your problem, right there,” I say, pointing at him. “It was business. You made it personal. You gotta stop with this Mateo shit,” I say, shaking my head. “It doesn’t even matter if you’re right, the only person you’re making look bad is yourself. She mentions his name and you get shitty. Here’s a better idea: stop flying off the handle. When she says, hey, it was nice of this man who knows people are out to kill him to show up alone with someone who might shoot him on sight to save me? You wrap your arm around her since she’s your fucking girl and say, yeah, it was, I’m so glad you’re safe. Then you kiss her. You take her home and fuck her, because only you get to do that. Who won? You. You won. When you act like a dick, you know who wins? I’ll give you a hint—the only threat who isn’t you. He might be a crazy asshole, but he keeps it in check. Learn from your enemies, Vince.”

  He’s still watching me with that narrowed glare of his, but I’m done here, so I leave him in the bathroom alone and find myself hoping Mateo kills this little bastard before I have to.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Francesca

  I miss our house in the suburbs as we stand together at the bathroom sink off Sal’s bedroom, brushing our teeth at the single basin.

  He watches me in the mirror as he rinses his tooth brush and drops it back in the toothbrush holder. “What are you thinking about?”

  I rinse mine and drop it in next to his. “Ethan’s house. I was just thinking I wish Adrian wouldn’t have ruined it.”

  He wraps his arms around my waist, tugging me close and giving me a lengthy kiss. “How did he ruin it?”

  My eyebrows rise and I just stare at him. I don’t want to bring it up, but isn’t it obvious how he ruined it?

  “Oh,” Sal says, realization dulling the shine in his handsome brown eyes. “Well, sure,
that wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t ruin the house. We can still buy it from him. I’ll probably have to sell this one since we don’t need two houses less than an hour away from each other. We’ll just remodel the living room. If that’s the house you want, that’s the house you’re getting.”

  Shaking my head, I pull close to him even as my gaze drops to his bare chest. “I don’t want to start building our life in a place that has such an awful memory for you.”

  He dips his head to kiss his way down my neck, murmuring, “I have plenty of good memories there already, and we’ll make so many more there won’t be room for that one.”

  Pushing a hand through his dark hair, I gaze at him with undisguised concern. “I’m afraid it hasn’t really hit you yet. Sometimes it takes a few days for a tragedy to really sink in, and—”

  Interrupting me, he says, “I really don’t want to talk about it. I’m dealing with it. I’m fine. I’m just not going to let it consume me. Yeah, it was sad and hard, but it was business. It was going to happen sooner or later with the shit he was pulling, it just had to happen a little sooner. Now, let’s go to bed and not talk about this.”

  I take his hand and follow him to the bed, climbing in with him. I haven’t officially moved in—Mateo thought I should wait, though I don’t know what I’m waiting for—but I’ve spent the last two nights here anyway. Tomorrow we’ll have to go back to the mansion for family dinner anyway, then I’ll stay there since Dad’s funeral is Monday.

  “I hope we don’t have to go to any more funerals until we’re old and gray. I don’t want to experience any more death,” I tell Sal, curling up beside him.

  His strong arms encircle my body and he pulls me against his chest, kissing the crown of my head. “Yeah, I hope so, too.”

  “What did you think of Mia?”

  “I liked her.” He trails the tips of his finger along my arm, relaxing me. “I’m curious to see her around Mateo tomorrow. I’m still not sure I can get behind your twisted pairing, but I’ll keep an open mind.”