I
t was a weird thing, watching your sexy enemy join forces with the people most dear to you.
Ava had all but charmed the pants off Anthony on the ferry ride over to Staten Island. Anthony, whose condescending, big-brother routine practically seeped out of his pores. Anthony, whose volatile temper and legendary glare had sent more than a handful of rookies to therapy.
Anthony who distrusted all women, everywhere.
Except, apparently, Ava Sims.
By the time they’d gotten to his parents’ house, Luc was grinding his teeth, and Anthony was in all-out charm mode (which Luc hadn’t even known was a thing), and Ava was practically simpering.
To punish her, he’d nearly left her in Anthony’s oh-so-doting care for the evening.
That
would show her.
But then Luc had seen it. He’d seen
her
, with the sassy layers stripped away.
It happened when Anthony opened the front door, and just as Luc was inhaling the familiar aromas of his mother’s cooking, he caught Ava’s expression out of the corner of his eye.
She hesitated, her bright, ever-present smile slipping, and she’d looked lost and completely unsure of herself.
Her description of her family flitted through his mind. After meeting Miranda, Luc had been hoping the bad vibes with her sister had been a fluke.
But the tension in her shoulders when she’d talked about her family looked decades old.
In other words, the Sunday dinner that had always felt like coming home to him was completely foreign to her.
Luc mentally sighed. He wanted to leave her to the sharks.
To let her sink or swim as she went about interviewing his family, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, stalking his baby pictures to see if he fixed the wings of baby birds, or something she could use for her stupid hero story.
Her finger fiddled with the sleeve of her cardigan, as a loud burst of laughter came from the kitchen. White teeth nibbled nervously on the corner of her bottom lip, and Luc broke.
Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out a hand to her.
Ava blinked in surprise, staring in confusion at his outstretched hand. When her eyes lifted to his, they were confused and wary.
“Come on, Sims, it’s just a bit of kindness,” he said, intentionally keeping his voice light. “You’re about to be sucked into the Moretti vortex.”
“Is the rest of your family as cranky as you?”
Luc frowned. “You still think I’m cranky?”
“I think if there was a boarding school for personality makeovers, you’d probably get a scholarship.”
He let out a little laugh before wiggling his fingers. “Sweetheart, I’ll have you know that I’m the charming one of my family.”
She frowned. “Anthony was lovely.”
“I assure you. He’s not. Vincent’s worse, my sister’s a pain in the ass, my mom will probably ask to measure your hips and utter the word
womb
at some point during the evening, and my father was the New York Police Commissioner for twenty-seven years, which pretty much says it all.”
“And what are you?”
“Your savior for the evening.”
“Well all right then.” She slipped her hand in his, and the sensation of her fingers against his was oddly calming.
He ignored it, tugging her down the hall toward the kitchen, which had always been the heart of his parents’ household.
Luc meant to release Ava’s hand before entering the kitchen. No need to give anyone—especially Ava—the wrong impression.
But somehow his fingers didn’t release when he meant them to, and when they walked into the kitchen, the usual fighting, laughing, and yelling tapered off so there was only Nonna at the counter muttering about how her daughter-in-law “still couldn’t cut tomatoes for the life of her.”
Ava quickly tugged her hand away, but not before his entire family had seen exactly what was going on. It was times like this that being part of a family of cops sucked. They missed nothing.
And while his mother’s experience in law enforcement had been as a dispatcher, she was a mom. Her observation skills put her cop husband and sons to shame.
At least when it came to her flock.
“
Bambino
,” his mom said, giving him a beaming smile before holding her arms to the sides.
“Ma.” He moved toward her, kissing both cheeks.
“Bambino?” Ava asked.
“Baby,” Vincent translated from the corner of the room where he stood with his back leaned against the wall. His serious face as unreadable as ever as he studied the newcomer.
“Luca’s the youngest of the family,” Elena explained, moving toward Ava and swooping her into a hug.
“Oh!” Ava said in surprise before giving his sister an awkward pat on the back. Luc almost grinned at her discomfort. Ava apparently wasn’t a hugger, which Luc didn’t find all that surprising. For all her bright smiles and talk-to-me! expressions, the woman had a veritable force field around her.
“Yeah, we do that,” his mother said, explaining the hug, even as she followed up her daughter’s hug with one of her own. “We like to blame it on the Italian, but mostly we’re just pushy.”
“You guys, um, know me, right? Know what I’m doing here?” Ava said, shooting Luc a nervous glance.
He responded by going to the sideboard and pouring them both a liberal dose of wine. They were going to need it.
“That you’re showing the world just what kind of man my son is? Of course we know. We couldn’t be more thrilled.” This from Tony Moretti.
Luc closed his eyes briefly, jarring only slightly when a big hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Hi, Dad.”
“Son.”
His father’s fingers squeezed on his shoulders, and although Luc knew the gesture was fatherly…protective…it was also a warning. Not to say too much. Not in front of
her
.
Then his dad moved away from him, descending on Ava with a broad, genuine smile before he, too, kissed both of her cheeks.
Good God, was the woman
blushing
?
What was it with her and the Moretti men?
Was she enamored with all of them except him?
Luc hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was the charming one. Well, he and Marco.
But Marc was in another time zone, and his two Moretti brothers that
were
here had the gruff, growly kind of vibe that didn’t appeal to vivacious, straightforward women like Ava.
Unless he was wrong.
Too late, he realized that his mom was threatening her with a tour of the house and an invitation to come stay with them any time.
Jesus
.
“Ma, how about some introductions before you start monogramming her a towel?”
He moved beside Ava to hand her the wine he’d poured. She accepted it with a murmured thanks, and the normal thing to do would have been to step back.
He stayed where he was.
“Ava, these women who ambushed you are my mother, Maria, and my sister Elena. The grump in the corner with the social skills of an eggplant is my brother Vincent. Then there’s my dad, Tony, his namesake, Anthony, whom you’ve already met.”
“Forgetting someone,
bambino
?”
“Just saving the best for last, Nonna. That old crone cutting tomatoes is my grandmother. Her name’s Teresa, but I’m pretty sure she’ll insist you call her—”
“Nonna,” his grandmother proclaimed, pointing the knife in Ava’s direction for emphasis. “And it was
my
idea to invite you. Remember that when you’re deciding who to give the most screen time to in your little TV special.”
“Wait, is you inviting me supposed to be a good thing?” Ava asked. “Because jury’s still out on all of this.”
Nonna snickered. “I like this one. She doesn’t smooch my butt like half the girls you bring round here.”
Ava lifted her eyebrows. “Other girls, hmm?”
His eyes locked on hers.
Her tone had been joking, but the way she’d phrased it had seemed distinctly couple-minded. If the hand-holding hadn’t set his family into a tizzy,
this
would.
And they didn’t even know about a certain two dozen white roses.
“Nonna, what are you doing to the tomatoes?” his mother demanded, pressing her palm heels to her temples. “You’re mangling them.”
“Posh. You never do a good job of releasing the juices.”
“Those ‘juices’ are all over my floor.”
“So I’ll clean it.”
“You’re eighty-two.”
“But I do yoga, which is more than I can say about some people—”
The Moretti siblings exchanged an exacerbated glance. Their argument over tomatoes was pretty standard.
And if it wasn’t tomatoes it was the brand of ricotta Ma bought, or that Nonna oversalted the pasta water, et cetera, et cetera.
Luc’s mom had been born in Italy and, although she’d only lived there until she was two, considered herself
real
Italian.
Unlike Nonna who only had a long-lasting marriage to the late Rico Moretti.
Still, Nonna didn’t let a little thing like genetics undermine her authority.
And when it came to cooking methods, the animosity between his mother and grandmother was mighty.
“What’s going on?” Ava whispered.
“If you’re wondering if they’re going to kill each other…maybe…” Luc’s father said, not looking the least bit perturbed by the escalating argument between his wife and mother.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Elena said, wiggling her way between Ava and Luc and linking arms with Ava. “I
never
get any girl company. Except when Jill joins us.”
“There are more of you?” Ava looked ready to pass out, although no doubt she was just peeved that there was a player that her research hadn’t uncovered.
“Jill is Vincent’s partner,” Elena said with a nod toward Vin. “She joins us for dinner whenever she and Vin aren’t fighting.”
“Which is never,” Vincent said, finally pushing away from the wall and snagging an olive from the charcuterie board. “The woman’s a menace.”
“Ah, so
all
of the Moretti men are good with the ladies then,” Ava said with a pointed look at Luc.
“Oh God, no,” Elena said, missing Ava’s sarcasm. “Vincent’s lucky to get through a first date without a woman breaking into tears. Not even kidding. And Anthony’s got that tall, brooding thing happening that women
think
they want, but then he remembers that he’s married to the job, and he forgets his girlfriends’ names at inopportune moments—”
“That happened
once
,” Anthony broke in with a warning finger pointed at Elena. “And you know I was in the middle of that Weedleton case.”
“Yawn,” Elena shot back. “No cop talk at dinner, remember?”
“Is that even possible?” Ava murmured.
No
, Luc thought to himself.
“No,” Elena said with a sigh.
“So you were never tempted to go into the family business?” Ava asked, taking a sip of wine.
Luc nearly smiled. The reporter was definitely still there under all her pretty manners.
“Hell no,” Elena said. “For starters, Dad wouldn’t let me, because he lives in the Middle Ages—”
“Because he loves his only daughter,” Tony corrected.
“But it’s never been my dream job anyway,” she continued.
“What is?” Ava asked politely.
Elena shot a cheeky grin at the men of her family. “I’m an attorney. Defense.”
Luc watched as Ava’s lips pursed. Her research already had revealed Elena’s career, but he could tell she was just now putting together the pieces of what Elena’s job meant for family dynamics:
Four brothers and a father on one side of the law. A lone sister on the other.
This
was why they didn’t talk shop at family dinners.
“Anyway,” Elena said. “Vincent and Anthony are terrible with women. It’s Luc that’s always been the ladies’ man.”
Luc groaned. For the first time ever, he actually wished his sister would keep going on about her career.
“Oh,
do
tell,” Ava said, giving Elena her full-on attention.
Luc plucked the wineglass from Ava’s hand.
“Wait, I wasn’t done,” she said, her voice just a tiny bit desperate.
“I’m getting you a refill. Trust me,” he said, heading back toward the side bar, “you’re going to need a big-girl pour tonight.”
A
s far as Moretti family dinners went, everyone was on their best behavior. Mostly. Sure, Elena checked her phone under the table, and Vincent was short on smiles, and his mom and grandma dropped a few too many hints about wishing Luca
had a nice girl like you
.
But all in all, it was as good as Luc could have expected.
And yet still, Ava was nervous. Not that she showed it outright. She was perfectly pleasant, smiling at all the right things, making all the appropriate small talk. But more than once he’d caught her fingernail sneaking up to her mouth where she nibbled it lightly before catching herself and taking a sip of wine.
It broke his heart a little. This confident, successful woman who was so clearly out of her element in a family setting. After meeting Miranda, he’d definitely suspected that they weren’t exactly one big, loving family, but seeing how uncomfortable Ava was around hugs and compliments and laughter confirmed it.
Luc sincerely hoped he never met the Sims family, because he’d be hard-pressed not to give them a piece of his mind.
Ava was sitting to his right and fidgeting so much that Luc longed to reach under the table and touch her…just to calm her. But he wasn’t sure that wouldn’t make her more jumpy.
There was a rare silent moment at the table as everyone devoured the food, and Ava jumped to fill it. “Mrs. Moretti, this roast is
amazing
. And the pasta—”
Nonna broke in. “You like this, you should come to my place for some good cooking. I don’t dry out my meat.”
Maria Moretti ignored her mother-in-law and smiled warmly at Ava. “I’m glad you like it, dear. And please, call me Maria.”
“Okay,” Ava said, her smile quick and shy. “I’d like that.”
His mom caught his eye and winked.
“Ava, you said you’re from Ohio?” Luc’s father asked.
“Oklahoma.”
“Okay no offense,” Vincent broke in, “but aren’t those like the same thing?”
Elena made no efforts at subtle as she kicked her brother under the table. “Seriously? Don’t be a douche bag.”
“Yeah, don’t be a douche bag,” Nonna chimed in.
“We all remember how we feel about name calling at my dinner table, yes?” Maria asked quietly, taking a sip of her water.
Elena gave her mother an exasperated look. “But—”
“So, Ava, you’re from Oklahoma,” Tony Moretti interrupted.
She smiled. “Yes. Darrington. And don’t feel bad if you’ve never heard of it. Most people haven’t.”
“Trust me, I don’t feel bad,” Vincent griped.
Elena tried to kick him again, but he dodged this time.
Tony quieted his squabbling offspring with a single look before he continued his talking. “So Darrington’s a small town?”
“Very,” Ava said.
“New York’s a big change. Did you come specifically for your career?”
Luc’s chewing slowed as he caught the too-casual note in his father’s voice. Warning bells went off in Luc’s head. He knew that tone. It meant his father was after something. And what Tony Moretti wanted, he usually got.
Ava seemed to sense the danger, because she set her fork aside. “Yes, I came for my professional development. New York is definitely the hub of broadcast journalism.”
“Hmm,” Tony said. “It’s the hub of a lot of things. Why this profession?”
“Dad, you’re making her sound like she chose prostitution,” Elena said, giving her father a scolding look.
Tony merely lifted a shoulder and took a bite of pasta, and Luc glared.
“You don’t like reporters, Mr. Moretti,” Ava said, picking up her fork and resuming eating. It wasn’t a question.
“Well now, I don’t know that I’d say that,” Tony said with a quick grin. “I’m just not convinced of their purpose.”
“
Dad
!
” Elena said at the same time Maria exclaimed, “Tony!”
Luc remained silent, but the glare he shot his father was lethal. A glare his father ignored.
“No, it’s okay,” Ava said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “Plenty of people feel that way about reporters.”
“That may be so,” Luc’s mother said quietly, “but you’re a guest in our home.”
“I’m a guest in your home because I’m doing a story on your son,” Ava said, her voice kind but firm. “It’s fair that you all would have some concerns. And I’m more than happy to answer any questions you might have.”
“Okay, I’ve got one,” Anthony said, jumping in for the first time. “I think we all know why Luca got chosen for this article over any other cop. The face. The smile. The jumping into rivers to save kids. But what I want to know is how you’re going to stretch Luca’s good deeds into three hours’ worth of television.”
“Well,” Ava said slowly, “it won’t just be about Luc. He’ll be the focus, certainly, but we’ll be talking about the NYPD and law enforcement in general. And when we do focus on Luc, we’ll of course cover his recent good deeds, and the fallout of that, but we’ll look into the complete picture as well. Who is Luc Moretti
off
camera? What’s his journey been like from youngest son of the police commissioner to officer?”
The silence in the dining room was deafening.
Luc knew that Ava thought she’d be putting the family at ease, but her words had done anything but.
“So you’re planning to dig into his past,” Tony said.
“Well, not dig, exactly,” Ava said, shooting a confused look at Luc. “I mean, we want to tell a complete story, but if there’s something you want us to avoid…”
“No,” Luc broke in before his family could interject. “We have nothing to hide.”
He looked around the table as though to say
right
?
Not a single family member met his eye. Not even Nonna. His eyes narrowed. What the hell was going on here? It’s not like Luc
wanted
Ava to start digging into Mike’s death…or Shayna Johnson’s…but the way his family was skulking around like there was some sort of deep dark secret was bound to arouse Ava’s suspicions.
He glanced at her, and sure enough, her eyes had sharpened, and he could all but hear the wheels turning in her head.
She shifted her gaze toward him, and he forced himself not to look away. Not to look as ridiculously guilty as the rest of his family.
Which made no sense. Luc knew why he felt guilty. He’d been the one to watch Mike die. The one to find Shayna’s body. The one who could have stopped both deaths.
But from the NYPD’s perspective, Luc was clean. He’d followed process. He’d done exactly what he’d been trained to do.
Which didn’t ease Luc’s guilt. At all. But it did mean that if Ava Sims went digging into Luc’s past, she’d come up empty. On a professional level, at least.
On a personal level, Ava Sims could destroy him.
But somehow, Luc didn’t think that was what his family was worried about. At least not
all
they were worried about.
When the silence had stretched too long, Nonna jumped in with a too-detailed description of her adventures in Bikram yoga, and Luc allowed himself to relax slightly.
At least until he found his father watching him with an unreadable expression.
And that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that
Ava
was watching Tony.
And Luc didn’t like the speculative look. Not one bit.