Playing with Fire - A Sports Romance by Lydia De Luca Page B

You’re right. Now come, let’s eat. I brought home scallop and mushroom risotto from Luciano’s.”
    As he rushes off to the kitchen, Vivian takes my arm and walks with me. “Always the voice of reason,” she says, a murmur only loud enough for me to hear.
    I know she’s shocked by my outburst. Never once have I tried to convince Marco to do anything, one way or another, regarding Vinny and his girlfriends. Never once have I interceded. I've done so adamantly tonight, and while I know she wants to know why, I can't tell her.
    I can't bear for Vinny to bring Jen around. It’s not fair. It’s not safe. I know Marco. We’ve been through this dance before. He won't stop at Jen. He won't stop until he’s met her entire family, or until Vinny breaks up with her. He’ll fly her in for starters. And if the relationship lasts more than a month, he’ll fly in the rest of her family. He’s done it in the past, and I can't let that happen now.
    I can't let him bring Corey to the house. I can't let him put that man close to me. It’s not safe for Corey. It’s not safe for me.
    “Tell me, Tesoro,” Marco addresses me after we’ve taken our seats in the soft, padded chairs around the circle table in the sunroom. “How are you doing? Is your job treating you well?”
    “It’s going good.” I try to relax, to put humor into my voice. I can't have Vivian asking questions. “But the owner of the company, he’s a real slave driver.”
    Marco gives a hearty laugh and Vivian smiles around a bite of risotto. “Maybe I should have a talk with him,” he says. After a sip of wine, he asks, “How are the bios coming?”
    “Good. I finished the interviews early this week and have everything over to the formatters. The programs should be ready tomorrow. Plenty of time before the opener.”
    “Ah, fantastico! How were the players? Did any of them give you a hard time?”
    I swallow the lump forming in my throat and take a gulp from my wine glass. “They were fine, Marco. Everything was fine.”
    He narrows his eyes at me. His face takes on the stern look I've come to loath. “I don't want any of those men near you, Frankie. If any of them so much as touch you, I'll have their heads.”
    I take another large gulp of my wine, bracing myself for a fight. “I can take care of myself, Marco.”
    “Nonsense. I know these men, Tesoro. They are not the kind of men you should be around.”
    I desperately work to keep my voice level, but my volume increases as my anger rises. “I'm not a child, Marco. I'm a college graduate. I have a real job, pay my own bills. I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions now.”
    “No,” Marco responds, his voice menacing.
    “Daddy—”
    “No, Vivian!” He holds his hand out in front of his daughter, stopping her. But he doesn't take his eyes off of me. “I promised my baby sister, on her deathbed, I would look out for you, Frankie. I will not go back on my word. I won't allow you to get hurt because some good-for-nothing ball player can’t keep his hands to himself.”
    “I am not my mother!” I slam my fork down on the table, startling my cousin and uncle. “I am not going to get knocked up and leave my child with you when I die. I am my own person, dammit.” I jump up from my seat, splattering wine across the table as my glass falls on its side. I stare down at my uncle, who sits stupefied in front of me. “One of these days you’re going to have to stop trying to control every aspect of my life. The only thing you’re accomplishing is pushing me away from you and harming me in the process.”
    I spin away from him before he can respond and brush out of the room. I grab my shoes, jacket, and overnight bag from the floor by the front door, not bothering to put anything on as I storm out the house into the freezing spring night. I can't take any more of his crap. Marco is the reason I'm in this mess. He’s the reason I feel the need to drive my car off a cliff. My life will