41. Vince
Vince
Running my fingers under the tiny satin straps across her lower back. While she passionately talked to Bastion and Luca about something. Every second that passed, I regretted agreeing to the family dinner.
She was insisting on sitting on her own chair. I hated it.
Following the crisscross straps, until I had the bow. I could not wait to take this dress off her.
“I’ll be back,” she twisted on her chair, kissing my cheek.
“Where are you going?” I grabbed her waist.
“I need another drink,”
“I’ll get it,”
“Vince. Sit and talk to your brothers. I’ll be two minutes.”
Even as she kissed me again, I really wasn’t impressed with her leaving. We had waiters. Staff that would bring anything she wanted to her. So she could stay here with me.
The only benefit of her walking away from me was watching her ass and those legs. That light pink satin clung to her perfectly. Fuck .
When we got back to the room, I was taking her with the dress on, and those heels.
“It would seem you and Maddy are finally close.”
“What did I say about that?” I watched as she walked out of view. Before turning to look at Bastion. He could wipe that grin off his face.
“No disrespecting women. Or talking about your wife, in any sexual context.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.
“Because?”
“Because you raised men, not immature boys.” He pushed back in his seat.
Nice to know that the lecture had sunken in.
“I’m proud of you two for getting this place operating on your own.
The location, the tax benefits.” It wasn’t just another resort, not in my eyes.
This was proof they could handle themselves.
No other twenty-year-olds were taking on this type of responsibility.
“If something happened to me or Nik, you two would be alright. And that gives me a lot of fucking peace.”
“Look at that. We made Vince proud.” Luca nudged Bastion's arm.
“Speak for yourself. He’s always been proud of since I made the sports team. He didn’t miss one game.”
Eighty percent of those games he sat on the bench chatting girls up at the fence instead of playing. The number of sore ankles he faked, which always happened just after he went on the field.
“Please, you didn’t get your fat ass off that bench. He had certificates and trophies of mine to display.”
“Yeah, certificates that went next to Sofia’s finger paintings on the fridge.”
“At least I had something on the fridge. Even Rome had his arrest warrants. You didn’t even have a magnet.”
“Luca,” I gave him a look. He knew damn well that paper certificates were a sore point with Bastion. “Anyway, Bastion had that art sculpture on the mantelpiece.”
That gave me and Nik regular heart attacks every time we saw it in the dark. Which, thanks to the twins never sleeping, was every fucking night.
I looked back, trying to see Madeline. This was longer than two minutes.
Bastion clicked his fingers, “Right, which got broken because of you,” he shot a glare at Luca, “You and Nik just had to play catch near it.”
I was sure Nik did it on purpose. He was never that bad at throwing a ball. But he had to break it on the night I was home.
Bastions wailing at six years old was ear deafening. It’s a miracle I can still hear at all.
“I’m going to check on Madeline,” I got up. “Do you two want anything?
“No, but,” Bastion finished his drink, “tell Nik to get off the phone if you see him. We’re hungry and sick of waiting for him.”
Fair enough. I nodded, moving through the restaurant. Where was my wife? I looked along the bar, my mood instantly changing when I saw two men talking to her.
Don’t be overprotective. She’s capable, smart, and deals with actually dangerous men for a living. She could handle two tourists. Still, these two fuckers had kept her from me. Perhaps we made a mistake opening the resort up to the public.
One of the men dropped something or pretended to. As he kneeled, his phone camera pointed up while the other kept her talking.
I stood on his phone, his smug expression changing, as he glared at me, slowly standing up. “What the fuck man, you’re on my phone.”
“Your phone was pointed at my wife.”
I waited for him to deny it. But he just smirked. Vile. Unmannered men. The lowest on the food chain.
“Get your drinks and fuck off,” Both smart enough to listen, and he didn’t try to get his phone off me.
He was lucky my wife had taught me to breathe, otherwise he’d be through the fucking bar. Instead, I’d handle it later. See how they liked being filmed and exploited.
“My love, did you get your drink?” I held her side, watching as they walked away. I’d have to get their room numbers off the front desk.
“That’s so annoying. Normally I see it.” She sighed. The lack of shock in her eyes really fucking disturbed me. “Oh, I’ve already finished that one. I want another.”
Gently, I touched her cheek, holding her head back. “Is everything okay?” she doesn’t normally drink so much.
“I told my uncles; they, um, didn’t take it well.”
If she didn’t love them, it would be easier for me to handle it. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I just want to forget about it for a bit.”
I nodded. But come tomorrow, if she is still worked up. We were talking about it.