Page 68 of Feel the Heat

“Leave her alone,” a deep voice cut in.

He turned to the source, surprised to find Marco invading his body space, his grasping gaze on Lili.

“Stay out of it, Rossi,” Jack ground out.

“Marco, it’s okay,” Lili said in that soft salve of a voice she had used to calm Jack five minutes ago.

“Yeah, Marco, it’s okay,” Jack mimicked, not caring that he sounded childish.

Marco’s gaze narrowed to snakelike slits. “Quit bullying her, Kilroy.”

“I’m not bullying her. I’m trying to have a private conversation here.”

“Nothing you do is private.” He waved his hand around the semi-circle of spectators comprising restaurant and TV crews that ended at Jerry, who with his shoulder-held camera captured Jack’s meltdown frame for frame.

That’s when a different blast of technology glinted and caught Jack’s eye. Raised phones in the hands of those well-trained girls, each one grabbing footage for their next upload. Not just the girls. Marco held his mobile at thigh level but Jack knew in his heart of hearts where it had been a moment before.

“Were you filming us? Did you film my sister?” These people would stop at nothing. His vision went dark around the edges and before he even realized it, he had shoved Marco in the chest. A testing shot.

“Jack!”

Lili lay her hand on his arm, and he jerked away. Marco’s lips curled up in a condescending smile like the fucker had been proved right before he moved in further, sucking the air Jack needed to breathe.

“The universe doesn’t revolve around you, Kilroy. You’re beginning to sound paranoid.” He caressed Lili’s forearm. “Come on, Lili.”

Jack blocked him, rage coursing through him in a torrent. “So help me God, if you don’t take your hand off her—”

“You’ll what? Pound me like you did that photographer?”

“That would be too generous.”

“Jack, stop,” Lili said quietly.

Anger surged in a flood, closer to the surface because of what he had thought he’d gained. “You’re taking his side now?”

“Of course not,” she said, but her eyes betrayed her. Something passed between her and Marco, and she colored as deep as a habanero pepper.

He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like it was filled with broken glass. He had misjudged the situation completely. This was Lili’s life, her family, her raison d’etre. Marco and his gambling problems. Lili and her chronic case of familial devotion. Former lovers, maybe current lovers, working together to get publicity for their baby. Working him.

He’d had his suspicions about the DeLucas involvement in the video, but Lili had dismissed them as crazy talk. Oh no, Jack. My cousins would never do a thing like that. He knew better now. Someone had done exactly that. A wave of emotion careened through him, leaving him nauseated, like he’d eaten a clutch of bad clams. Had Lili known all along? Had she encouraged it?

Cara’s words returned in an icy rush. When I suggested she indulge in your services… And her cousins, with their t-shirts and their Facebook pages and their media campaign worthy of any New York or LA PR outfit had capitalized on Lili’s fame faster than you can say ‘Jack and the fat chick.’ The sickening conclusion slammed him so hard his chest caved.

Hello, baseball bat, welcome back.

Everyone watched, eyes stripping them bare. Servers, kitchen staff, and show crew waited on the balls of their feet. Cara towered in an angry shimmer with hip cocked and lips puckered.

“Can we please finish this effing show?” she called out, and it was enough to shatter the tableau everyone was frozen in. It was also enough to loosen the clog in his throat.

“Show’s over.”

Silence reigned and vacant expressions greeted this pronouncement. For the sake of fuck, his own crew didn’t even take him seriously.

“Jerry, turn off the camera. Now.”

“Yup,” was his cameraman’s laconic reply. He flipped a switch and the red light above the lens dimmed then died.

“Jack, I’m sorry,” Lili said, a tremble in her voice.

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