Revere: A Legacy Novel (Cross + Catherine Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

  “What is wrong with my son? He looks like he wants to puke.”

  “Marriage, kids, and minivans,” Cross explained.

  Wolf nodded. “Ah, I see.”

  “He can’t do that to me, right?” Zeke asked. “He can’t make me do that, can he?”

  “I mean, as a boss, he can—”

  “Cross, I swear to God. I did not help to save your ass for you to throw me into that hell.”

  Wolf laughed.

  “I said I wouldn’t,” Cross replied. “Stop being a cafone.”

  “You ready for tonight?” Wolf asked.

  “Yeah,” Cross murmured, peering into his empty glass. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

  “It has,” his old mentor replied. “It’ll be good, Cross. Your father decided to take the Donati famiglia in a direction that would benefit you, even if you didn’t realize he was doing it. That’s why over the years, the older generation of men was slowly replaced by men like Zeke, and others who respected you as much your father. Men you grew up with as … friends, of sorts. Or what you might consider a friend. They know this is coming. They’ve been waiting for it.”

  “We’re kind of springing it on them with no warning, though.”

  Wolf waved it off. “Only ignorant men will see this as a surprise. It’s already been done. It was basically done when your father made you his underboss a couple of years back. All that’s left to do is for you to—”

  “Take over,” Cross finished.

  “Exactly. The ring is a good fit, I see.”

  Cross smiled. “So is the boss’s seat.”

  Wolf clapped his shoulder. “Enjoy the view.”

  Cross didn’t get Catherine home before he got her dress shoved up over her ass, and his pants pushed down to his hips. He only made it to a dark hallway of the club that lead to a back office and storage room.

  He didn’t even bother to pull her red thong off. No, he just shoved it aside, lifted her up, and got his cock where it needed to be. All that was keeping them separated from the rest of the club goers and the dance floor was a single red velvet rope, and a few feet of darkness.

  “Holy fuck, holy fuck,” Catherine mumbled into his neck.

  Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs as he held her up against a wall and fucked her hard. Every thrust was heaven. Each squeeze of her inner muscles around his cock felt like all his nerves were being dragged through liquid gold.

  He had a fistful of her hair, and a hand tight around her throat. Her fingernails dug into the back of his neck while her other hand pulled hard on his hair.

  Her cries got louder as her cunt squeezed him harder.

  “Don’t fucking get us caught, now,” he told her.

  Catherine laughed breathlessly. “I’m gonna come.”

  “You fucking better.”

  She tipped her head back, and all he could see were her lips swollen from his kiss and bites, the mark he’d left on the side of her neck with his mouth, and her blown-wide pupils reflecting him. He clenched his teeth and sucked in a whistle of air, so fucking in love with this woman it was ridiculous.

  He’d always been that way with her, though.

  Since forever and a day.

  “Christ, look at you, Catty.”

  “Love your cock,” she breathed.

  Jesus.

  Her words sent him spinning with dark lust and pure love. Like a tornado ready to ravage and ruin, but he didn’t mind being caught inside the eye.

  Especially not if it was with her.

  Cross’s hand slid up from her throat, sunk two of his fingers into her teasing little mouth, and let his next few thrusts come a bit deeper and harder. Catherine whined her way through the orgasm, and her teeth cut into his knuckles.

  “Fuck, yeah, my girl. There it is.”

  Cross pulled his pulsing cock from Catherine’s hot pussy, and let her drop to the floor. She was still trying to catch her breath and shaking like a pretty leaf when he spun her around, and shoved her back against the wall. He pushed her dress up over her ass, gave her a swat hard enough to pink her skin, and then he was pushing back in again.

  All bare because she liked him better that way, he found. He’d stopped bothering to use condoms, even though it hadn’t been a big thing between them for a while. Still, he didn’t even bother to consider them now. She was on her shot, anyway, so he just didn’t see the damn point. He liked fucking her this way much more, too. Then, he felt everything.

  Catherine whispered a very soft, “Oh, my God.”

  Every damn inch of her hugged him like a glove.

  She was so fucking wet.

  Slick, hot, and goddamn tight.

  He loved it.

  “My turn,” he grunted into her ear.

  Catherine sighed happily. “Please.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Come, Cross. Please come.”

  “Little louder, babe.”

  “Come in me, Cross. Please come in me. I fucking want it. Please.”

  Yeah, that was all he needed to hear.

  He teased her clit with his fingers until she trembled again. With her second orgasm raging through, he emptied his cock deep into her cunt. He could feel the way his cum filled her with each pulse, and it made him fucking crazy.

  “We’re always going to be like this together, aren’t we?” Catherine asked.

  Cross kissed her cheek, still holding her tight to his cock. “Like what?”

  “Stupid. Wild. Sly. In love.”

  “You know it.”

  He’d make sure of it.

  Three months later …

  “How are you doing?” Cross asked as Calisto sunk into the seat at the table.

  Around them, people chatted and silverware clinked. The restaurant—one of his father’s favorites—was busy that morning.

  “I hate the fucking sun,” Calisto mumbled.

  “What, why?”

  Calisto eyed the sunlight coming in from the windows. “I’ve been shut away for too long. It’s hurting my eyes.”

  “Give it a bit; you’ll be fine.”

  “And my shoulder hurts.”

  “Why?”

  “Rain,” Calisto grumbled.

  A waitress came to their table, filled their cups with coffee, and left them with menus before heading to another set of patrons.

  Cross watched his father sip on the coffee silently, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks and gratitude to whoever was looking out for their family. Calisto had spent two months recovering in Scotland at a rehab clinic specially designed for those with brain and spinal injuries. Cross had only been able to fly out once to see his father, shortly after the surgery, and it had been difficult.

  Calisto was irritated at every little thing, impatient with those around him, and constantly tired. Some of his motor functions had taken steps back due to the surgery, which meant it took him time to relearn things that he had been able to do just fine on his own for his entire life.

  Things like buttoning his shirt, or tying his shoes.

  His verbal skills had been impacted, too. He struggled to form complete sentences, and when he did, his words often jumbled together, or were misplaced.

  It took his father two months in Scotland, and then another month at home in New York before he was finally back to normal. Cross had hired someone to come into his parents’ home every single day for a month to work with Calisto, even when his father just wanted to say fuck it. Cross couldn’t allow his father to give up when he was already doing so well, and so far ahead of others in the same situation as him. Calisto’s therapist still came daily to work on things like strength, and stamina.

  Sometimes, Calisto still became tired after doing very little. But he could play piano again, he had not had another episode, and his brain was not having minor bleeds.

  He had a hell of a lot more years to live.

  Cross was grateful for that.

  “You’re going to Vegas next week, aren’t you?” Ca
listo asked.

  Cross nodded, and took a drink of coffee. “Major MMA match happening. I’ve got cage-side tickets. Catherine got them for me as a gift.”

  “She going, too?”

  “Who else would I take?”

  Calisto shook his head. “I don’t know, Zeke, maybe?”

  “Zeke can buy his own fucking tickets.”

  “I swear, if you could just hole yourself up somewhere with that girl for the rest of your life, you would be a happy man, Cross.”

  “I’ve known that since I was fourteen. You’re late in the game, Papa.”

  Calisto smiled.

  The ringing of a bell drew Cross’s gaze to the restaurant entrance. Their third and fourth guest for the breakfast strolled in with smiles on their faces.

  Dante shrugged off his wet jacket, and took a seat beside Calisto. April was giving them hell for rain that year, although the sun kept shining through the rain. Catherine dropped a kiss to Cross’s temple before hanging her wet jacket on the back of the chair.

  “I have to go wash up,” she told him.

  “We’ll be here.”

  Dante turned to Calisto as Catherine headed for the restrooms. “I see you’re finally out and about.”

  “The sun is trying to kill me,” Calisto complained. “And the rain is hurting my shoulder.”

  Cross rolled his eyes upward. “The sun is not trying to kill you, Papa. It will take some time.”

  “You have been shut in for quite a while,” Dante said.

  “He doesn’t understand.” Calisto flicked a hand at Cross. “Not at all.”

  “I think he understands quite a bit. He was the one who made sure you’re still here to complain, isn’t he?”

  “Vaffanculo,” Calisto swore.

  Dante chuckled. “Be nice, old friend.”

  Cross checked his watch, and wondered where the rest of their guests were. Zeke, his latest girlfriend for the month, and Wolf.

  “Cross, I have a question,” Dante said.

  “Sure.”

  “You’re going to Vegas with my daughter next week, right?”

  “We are.”

  “Tell me you’re not going to marry her there.”

  Calisto coughed on his drink of coffee.

  Cross’s gaze darted to a stony Dante. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I just … wanted to make sure.”

  “Why?” Cross asked.

  “Because you’ve taken over your family a couple of months back, and we all know how these things work, don’t we? We were all in your position once, and the next logical step is marriage to an appropriate women. Yet, you’ve not approached me to marry Catherine at all. I know that’s probably because of our history—”

  “It has nothing to do with that,” Cross said.

  “Then why haven’t you?”

  “Because I haven’t brought it up to her.”

  Dante glanced to the side, as though he were considering Cross’s words. “You are aware how this works, aren’t you? You ask me first.”

  Cross lifted a single shoulder. “I mean, that’s how everybody else might do it. I care more about her opinion, to be honest. I’m not jumping at the bit for something she might not be ready for.”

  “She’s ready,” Calisto said.

  Dante and Cross looked to Calisto.

  “You think?” Cross asked.

  Calisto nodded. “She’s like you, son—loved you for basically her whole life. Why wouldn’t she want to be your wife? Besides, Catherine just turned twenty-six a couple of weeks ago, Cross. And you’re going to be twenty-eight this coming November. It’s time to do the adult thing where you two are concerned and marry. She knows that.”

  “I agree,” Dante said. “So, about Vegas.”

  “Are you genuinely concerned about that?” Cross muttered.

  Dante made a noise under his breath. “My son eloped. I understand why, and I won’t share his personal stories, but it was difficult for my wife and me. It’s a real fear where Catherine is concerned.”

  “Eloping would take a fuck lot less work,” Cross mused.

  Calisto shot his son a dirty look. “Don’t be a shit, Cross.”

  “Don't elope,” Dante murmured. “Let me give her away.”

  “As long as you do that.”

  “Don't make this harder than it needs to be.”

  “It's a serious concern.”

  “Cross, she is my only daughter. Allow me the pleasure of walking her down the aisle.”

  Cross sighed. “I can’t believe you seriously think I would do that.”

  “I actually don’t, but I figured I should make sure, too. Catrina freaked out a bit when Catherine mentioned she was heading to Vegas with you next week. That was a whole shrieking fit over the phone that I don’t even want to get into right now, but my ear still hurts.”

  “Well …”

  “Cross,” Dante said.

  “There’s a magic word you’re missing.”

  Calisto rolled his eyes skyward. “See, this is what’s going to get him killed. When he was young, it was his mouth. Now that he’s grown, it’s this nonsense.”

  “It’s called my arrogance,” Cross said with a smirk. “And it is the same as it always was.”

  His gaze caught the sight of Catherine coming back from the restrooms.

  Cross looked to Dante. “Is that your blessing, then?”

  “No eloping?”

  “The biggest wedding this city has ever seen,” Cross promised.

  “Then that’s my blessing.”

  “Done deal.”

  Catherine sat down at the table just as the conversation finished. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing, my girl.” Cross tossed an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close enough to kiss her temple. “Nothing at all.”

  “Really? Because you’re all kind of quiet. We’re not arguing again, are we?”

  She was so accustomed to some kind of tension between Cross and her father that he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised she was concerned. Frankly, even he never thought he would invite Dante Marcello to breakfast on a regular basis, never mind be comfortable and friendly with the man.

  Yet, there they were.

  All because of a green-eyed, dark-haired beauty.

  His beauty.

  “No arguing,” Dante said with a chuckle. “Not anymore.”

  Catherine reached for Cross’s coffee cup, and took a quick sip. “So, we’re good?”

  “Perfect,” Cross said.

  Catherine beamed.

  With her, everything was always perfect.

  “Something has come up with another girl in Los Angeles,” her mother said over the phone, “so I need to make a quick run down there. I won’t be meeting you in Maine; you will have to do this exchange on your own.”

  Catherine shifted in her heels, and enjoyed the warm August breeze blowing around her legs. “That’s fine, Ma. I can handle it.”

  She had been working for her mother for months. Eight months, to be exact. Catrina gave her a bit of time to relax after everything that had happened down in the Gulf, but that was it. One morning her mother called, demanded she pack a bag with beautiful things, and Catherine made her first trip to L.A.

  Her mother’s empire was nothing like what Catherine had done before. At first, it had been shocking for her to realize there were men and women who paid a great deal of money for Catrina’s girls—and a very few number of men—to deliver their needs regarding substance.

  Catherine had simply shown up to events and places her face would be recognized, and dealt to those who had too much money and time on their hands.

  Catrina’s girls were paid to simply show up, with a client’s drug of choice on hand. Private jets, luxury cars, and whatever else might be needed to get one of the women from their place, to the client’s place.

  And that was it.

  Nothing else.

  The clients paid for gorgeous, quick-witted women to provid
e their substance on call. They did not—at least Catherine had not seen it happen—expect anything more from the girl once she had shown up and done her job. She was their beautiful ghost; there when they needed her, indulging to their lifestyle and providing specifically to their wants regarding drugs, and then gone. Never intruding on their lives, but for when she was called to do so.

  “Make sure Miguel goes in with you,” Catrina said. “It’s a private estate, no party. I’m less trusting when they call a girl in during their private hours, and worse when it is still not a public place.”

  “I’ll be safe,” Catherine promised.

  “I know—my smart girl. Unfortunately, your history makes you even less trusting of them than I am.”

  “Miguel just stepped off the plane, so I have to go.”

  “I will see you when you’re back, reginella.”

  Catherine hung up her mother’s call, and pushed away from the rented Rolls Royce her client had provided to take her from the private Maine airstrip to his estate an hour and a half away. The multi-millionaire author seemed to like his LSD and cocaine to help along his muse. The man was an extreme introvert, with no wife or children. At least, not that Catherine had found when she looked up information about him online. He rarely left his home.

  Miguel approached Catherine with a warm smile. She preferred him to the other men her mother had rotated to work with her. The others all seemed a bit too interested, and tried to get too close. Miguel, on the other hand, was married to his wife, and the two had a little boy. He was friendly and protective of Catherine, but in a big brother type of way.

  She liked that more.

  “Did you talk to your mother, reginella?” Miguel asked.

  “I did. Nice to find out she wouldn’t be getting off with you when the plane landed. A little notice would have been good, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “You don’t actually sound like you mind.”

  Catherine shrugged. “It’s a beautiful summer day. I’ve only seen Cross four days out of this entire month, and I am this close to getting back home for an entire week of no interruptions with him.”

  She was so looking forward to that.

  Miguel laughed. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

  “Yes, let’s do that.”