As far as alibis went, being on a crowded ship in the middle of the Caribbean was ironclad.
Anthony had picked a bar close to Elena’s midtown apartment, so in under five minutes, the three Moretti brothers were waiting impatiently for her snotty doorman to find them on her list of approved guests.
Vincent loved his sister but absolutely hated her apartment. It was one of those brand-new, sixty-plus-floor monstrosities that completely ruined the character of the city. The outside was all generic shiny glass, the inside all bizarre modern art.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why she spent an exorbitant amount of money on something so soulless, but then… he supposed it was because she could.
Elena was the only Moretti sibling not in law enforcement, which would have been fine had her chosen career not been a slap in the face to the NYPD.
It wasn’t just that Elena was a lawyer.
That was fine. No, Elena had to go and be a defense attorney. She fought to defend the very jackasses her brothers and father fought to put away.
Still, much as Vin hated her profession, he had to admit that his sister had done quite well for herself. He might not share her penchant for all things new and swanky, but he could respect that Elena knew what she wanted, went for it, and got it.
Once they made it up to her floor, Anth paused before knocking. “Remember, if whatever drink she’s serving has floating flowers in it, we all take turns distracting her while the others dump it. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
But then they were inside Elena’s apartment, and Vin realized rather abruptly that he’d drink whatever his sister put in his hand as long as it had alcohol.
Because there was Jill.
And there was her new man.
And holy hell, he wasn’t sure that he could do this.
Luc clamped him once on the shoulder before seeking out Ava, and Vin stood in the foyer for several long moments wondering if maybe he could sneak away, plead a stomachache…
Jill spotted him, and the happy smile on her face drew him forward.
He blew out a breath. He could do this. He had to.
“You came!” Jill said, all but bounding over to him.
“Of course I came,” he muttered.
Jill’s hair was in its usual ponytail, but that’s where his Jill ended, because he barely recognized her from the neck down.
She was wearing a dress. A short, white strapless thing that made her look young, and well… bridal.
Jill linked her arm in Vin’s, oblivious to his turmoil.
He wanted to jerk his arm away. Wanted to bark at her to, for once, give him some Goddamn distance.
Except he wasn’t sure he wanted distance. He wanted…
“How’s the new guy fitting in?” he asked.
“Hmm,” she said, seeming to consider the question.
She took a sip of her drink, which true to Anth’s prediction, had some sort of floating flower in it.
“He’s doing great. Everyone loves him,” she said, taking another sip of drink.
A quick scan of the situation verified this. The entire Moretti clan looked ready to fall at Tom’s feet.
“And this is a problem, because…?”
“It’s not!” she said brightly. “It’s great.”
He gave her a look. “Jill.”
She bit her lip. “Okay, fine, but if you repeat what I’m about to say, I will kill you.”
“Spit it out.”
“Do you think there’s such a thing as too nice?” she asked. “Too friendly?”
“Yes,” he deadpanned. “I know there is. I’ve dealt with it every day for the past six years.”
She pinched his arm. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. Henley, you’re like the human equivalent of a rainbow.”
There was a burst of laughter, and she and Vin shifted to see the crowd around Tom laughing as he told a story.
Jill took another sip of her drink, and everything clicked into place.
“Are you jealous, Detective?”
She glared at him. “Jealous of what?”
He nudged her shoulder. “That your boy over there is the center of attention. That for once, you’re not the funniest, brightest person in the room?”
Her face fell a little, and he instantly regretted his teasing. He itched to tell her that she was always the brightest person in the room. That she was his light.
“I just don’t want Tom to feel like he has to try so hard to make people like him,” she said.
Tom. Just hearing another man’s name on her lips made him irritable.
“What do you think of him?” she asked, gesturing with her glass.
Oh God. Don’t ask me that.
“Haven’t talked to him. Don’t want to make snap decisions,” he said.
Jill snorted. “You make snap decisions all the time. Come on, use your Spidey sense.”
Vincent forced himself to look at her fiancé again. He looked like Tom Fucking Brady. Even the first name was the same.
And yet… good-looking as the man was, something was off. Not off in that there was something wrong with the guy, but the man hadn’t once looked at Jill.
He was too busy working the room. Not even in a smarmy way, just the way of someone who made it his business to be liked.