by Bethany-Kris
“I thought that I wanted you and for the night, I did. I always take what I want, Dante.”
That was cold. Dante wished he could be surprised.
“We were good, though,” Catrina murmured softly.
“Business and pleasure,” Dante said, saying what she clearly wouldn’t. “It’s not good at all.”
• • •
Dante examined the bottle of lotion that had taken up residence on his bathroom sink. There was a similar one in the shower. The label told him it was some kind of organic body lotion that was supposed to smell like strawberries or some shit. The pale pink color of the label had a frilly design around the edges and fancy script lettering spelled out the name.
Where did females find this sort of crap? Why couldn’t they be like men and wash their hair with the same product they used to clean their bodies? Dante didn’t understand. Seemed like a giant waste of space, money, and time to him.
Why Catrina felt the need to stock his bathroom full of her girly nonsense, he wasn’t sure. There was another bathroom that wasn’t connected to the master bedroom, and since they weren’t even sleeping in the same bed together, he couldn’t figure out why in the fuck she was putting this stuff in his space.
Being married meant Dante needed to suck it up and share. He didn’t share very well, but he was learning. Catrina didn’t give him much of a choice, really. Most of the space inside the large condo now had Catrina’s things mingled in with his, not that she had a lot to bring. She had practically taken ownership of his kitchen and arguing with her over it only left him with a raging headache. She could cook, thank fucking God, but she was still crazy.
And not in a fun way.
Dante had lived eighteen years with a woman who was anal about her kitchen to the point of insanity before he finally was able to move the hell out—his goddamn mother. He hadn’t expected to be living with another one.
Mostly, Catrina and Dante stayed out of one another’s way. Sure, they had their moments, but who didn’t when two people went from living alone to suddenly having a roommate. That they were married to, of course. So, maybe not entirely the same thing, but close enough. It wasn’t like they were fucking. That might make this whole damn thing easier if they were.
Dante’s mind drifted back to their wedding night. His slip with Catrina … their mistake. Well, it might as well have never even happened with the way they both acted around each other. Forgetting that it happened was another thing altogether. Catrina was a passionate woman on a good day. Defiant, a little difficult, argumentative enough to make Dante feel like he was being challenged in a good way, but when he fucked her that night … Cristo.
In bed, Catrina had made him feel like he owned every fucking inch of her. Sex with her could quickly turn into an addiction Dante didn’t need. It would only serve to fuck with his head. Better to leave that sleeping dog lie than bring it out and beat it again.
Dante sighed, eyeing the bottle of lotion with as much inner hatred as he could manage for the tiny ten ounce plastic jar. He wondered if this was a battle he wanted to pick with Catrina or not. Popping the top open, he squeezed the bottle gently and sniffed. It did smell like strawberries. Muted strawberries with a hint of something rich and sweet, like maybe honey.
For a second time, Dante’s mind drifted back to their wedding night like he couldn’t control his own damn thoughts. He could still taste her on his tongue, feel the way she shivered, and hear her cries. He couldn’t remember if she smelled like this lotion or not, but his cock twitched to life all the same.
“What are you doing?”
Dante spun on his heel, nearly dropping the lotion in his hand. He came face to face with an irritated Catrina. Her hands were fisted to her hips as her gaze flicked between the bottle he held and his eyes.
“Looking at this shit in my bathroom,” Dante finally answered.
Wasn’t it obvious?
“It’s lotion, Dante. Surely you’ve seen it before.”
“Sure, but not in my bathroom.”
“That’s eighty dollars a bottle, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use it for … whatever you were thinking of using it for.”
Dante blinked down at the pink crap. “Are you serious?”
“What?”
“This is eighty fucking dollars?”
“It’s a boutique brand, organic, and imported. Yes, it’s costly. So no, I don’t want you using it to play with.”
“Play with—what are you going on about?” Dante asked, so confused he didn’t know what to think.
“Exactly what I just said.”
“Do you mean use it to whack off with? Jesus Christ. I wasn’t going to use it for anything and especially not that!”
“Mmm,” Catrina hummed, sounding like she didn’t believe him for a minute.
Dante was still stuck thinking about the cost of the bottle. “It’s lotion you rub on your skin, then wash off later, and you pay eighty dollars to do that?”
Catrina stiffened. “Sì. Is there a point to this condemnation of my personal products?”
“What, Nivea wouldn’t work just as well? You have to use something that costs more than most people’s shoes? I’m aware I’ve got money to blow whatever way I want to, and yeah, I’ve probably spent a lot of it in ways others would consider stupid, but this seems totally ridiculous, Cat. Eighty fucking dollars. Really?”
“Nivea doesn’t remind me of the way my sister used to eat her strawberries with warm honey. When you find a cheaper brand that smells the same and doesn’t cause my skin to break out into hives, feel free to make me aware.”
Dante felt like an idiot and a jerk all rolled into one mess of a human being. He also probably just crossed some kind of invisible line with his new wife, and maybe he should apologize for it. Catrina spoke very little of her family in Italy. In fact, he knew practically nothing but what he had gained from his own background search. That wasn’t very much.
“I’m sorry,” Dante murmured. “Here, take it. I wasn’t doing anything, just wondering why in the hell it was in here in the first place.”
Catrina snatched the bottle and put it back where Dante first found it. “It’s in here because I live in this condo with you, Dante.”
“Fair enough, except this is the attached bathroom for the master bedroom where I sleep and you don’t.”
“And the other bathroom doesn’t have a bathtub, only a standing shower. I prefer to bathe, not shower.”
Dante hadn’t thought of that. “I’m not used to this at all.”
“Living with a woman? Yes, I can tell.”
“Cut me some slack,” Dante muttered, eyeing the frilly bottle of lotion and wishing it would disappear from his personal space. “It’s only been two weeks, Cat.”
“No, I don’t think I will. This was fun.”
Dante’s brow furrowed. “Fun?”
“Mmhmm. Watching you squirm, I mean. How often does that happen for you? If I had to guess, not a lot.”
He sucked in a deep breath, willing his annoyance to leave. “Can’t you bring things in with you and take them when you go?”
“Why? We both live here. It’s our home. You might as well get used to me and my things, Dante.” Catrina turned to leave the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “And if you move your stuff to the other bathroom, I figure I should let you know for your own benefit, my tampons are under the sink.”
Dante choked on his shock.
How in the fuck did his brothers manage to move seamlessly from living alone to suddenly having a woman in their home?
Those bastards made it look easy. This living together thing sucked.
Grumbling under his breath, Dante followed Catrina out of the bathroom to her own bedroom down at the end of the hall. Dresses were tossed over her bed, separated in piles by style and color.
He quickly learned there were certain things Catrina was overly peculiar about. Cleaning was one, which he didn’t mind. Dante didn’t live in filth, bu
t he certainly didn’t need the twice a week maid he use to have, either. Not with Catrina in the condo. Organization was another one of her quirks, and he was starting to wonder if she had just a slight touch of OCD. So far, he managed to keep her out of his room.
Because hell, it was his damn room.
Finally, Catrina’s rabid nature about the kitchen. Dante wouldn’t go into that again.
“You still haven’t gotten your closet organized, yet?” Dante asked.
Catrina glanced at him over her shoulder, her brow furrowing in the cutest way. “Yes.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“I need to pick a dress, bello. I have a process. Mind your business. I don’t judge how you pick out your clothes.”
Dante barked out a laugh. “Yes, you do! Just yesterday you bitched that my dresser drawers are a mess and that I wear too much black with white. This morning you muttered that I didn’t have enough shoes for the size of my wardrobe.”
“Well, you do wear too much black with white and you need more shoes. And your dresser drawers are a shame. You should let me fix that.”
Dante blew out a puff of air. Yes, living with another person, especially Catrina Marcello, was nothing short of migraine inducing. “No. Absolutely not. It’s my room, Cat.”
“Your mother would be appalled.”
“My mother already is, but because she doesn’t live with me anymore, she keeps quiet.”
“Yes, but I do live with you, so …”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Did you need something?” Dante asked.
“Why?”
“You came and found me in my bathroom. You must have wanted something.”
“Oh,” Catrina said, smiling brilliantly. “Yes, we’re having dinner with your brothers and their wives later. Pick a blue tie. I just have to pick a blue dress I like.”
Since when were they having dinner?
Dante didn’t bother to ask. He had other things on his mind. “Speaking of a dinner.”
“Yes, what about it?”
“No, not tonight. In two weeks. Carl Calabrese and his wife finally agreed to a sit-down with us.”
Catrina raised a brow high, as if she were contemplating something. “Can we choose the restaurant?”
“What does that matter?”
She shrugged. “Just because.”
“Yes, I suppose we could being the dominating family.”
“Okay. And I meant to mention it, but you’ve been gone a lot this week.”
“Mention what?”
“I have to take a trip out to LA in a few weeks for a couple of days. Gaetano and Pao have been there smoothing the details for a few clients and working alongside a new girl out there.”
Dante took note of how Catrina refused to look at him as she spoke. “Does it bother you that there’s another girl doing your work?”
“Not really. I have other things to attend to right now.”
Yeah, like complaining about the state of his drawers and his lack of shoes.
“Why are you flying out, then?” Dante asked.
“Make sure everything is on the up and up. There’s also an issue or two with the supply and demand chain that I’d like to personally make sure is handled, you know.”
Dante did. Being the boss of his own operation meant he understood her need to control the details.
“I might be able to take a couple of days off to—”
Catrina spun on her heel, facing him. “I’ve already told you that my work isn’t like yours. Where you can fit me in, I can’t for you.”
“A vacation would be nice,” Dante muttered. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“Well, plan one.”
Chapter Nine
Cat surveyed the five crates as Giovanni stuck a crowbar under the top of one and began to pry. Wood cracked as the nailed down tops gave way to the metal and the man’s strength. Crossing her arms, Cat stood back in silence. Usually her men would handle a shipment of product when it came in, but since Gaetano and Pao had left the city, she was left to do this herself.
Giovanni overturned the wood cap on the crate, letting it crash to the floor. He pulled handfuls of dry hay from inside, tossing it aside as well. Finally, after two minutes of pulling out the filler for the shipment, he pulled out a five-inch thick by eight-inch long brick wrapped in cellophane and duct tape.
Digging more, Giovanni shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Shit, there’s got to be at least a couple mil in here.”
“Street value triples that,” Cat informed. “It’s always been a good arrangement for me. It’s worked, anyway.”
Giovanni regarded her with a contemplative expression as he rested his arm over the side of the shipping crate. “Where did you used to have the shipments sent to?”
“Wherever I was for the month,” she replied. “We always managed.”
“And the supplier?”
“An old friend.”
“That’s helpful.”
Shrugging, she said, “Our business crossed paths once or twice in Italy. I helped him out of a scrape once and he’s been good to me ever since.”
“If I ask what kind of scrape, would you tell me?”
Cat smirked. “You’re awfully curious about me for being a man who thinks women are useless in your business.”
“I never said that,” Giovanni corrected sharply. “Women can be twice as dangerous as men because you never suspect them, and they’re a hell of a lot more ruthless when it comes to getting what they want. Cosa Nostra doesn’t believe in involving women. I don’t mind working with a woman outside of that.”
“You’re working with me now.”
“It’s beneficial,” he said like that explained it all.
“And I’m your brother’s wife.”
“That, too. Although, there’s not much to see there, huh?”
Cat glanced away, refusing to dignify that with a response. Besides, she was trying to forget her weakness a month ago on her wedding night as it was. That was terribly fucking difficult to do when every inch of her remembered what Dante felt like touching her, tasting her, and fucking her like he had.
Difficult. Right.
Downright impossible was more like it.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Giovanni pointed out. “About your supplier.”
“Someone I knew was planning to come in on him for his influence in the trade there. They thought he had too much control and wasn’t offering out power to those who felt they deserved it for their influence. Since he was also hiding some of my extra activities as I had no other access to the product but him, I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Why would you need to hide anything?”
“I worked for someone else while doing my own business. It could have gotten me killed. You ask too many questions.” There were parts of Cat’s past that needed to stay there and that was one of them. “Do the bricks look clean, or what?”
“Clean enough. I’ll break a few open and check the color for purity, but it looks like it’s all here in this one. Do you want to stay for the rest?”
Cat checked her watch, sighing. “No, I have dinner in thirty with Dante.”
“Mmm, the Calabrese sit-down. Try to be good, Cat.”
She smiled slightly. Giovanni probably didn’t even realize he was beginning to like her.
“Men are easy, Gio. It’s the women I have trouble with.”
“Like my mother.”
“For one,” she said under her breath.
“Invite Cecelia to dinner at your place,” Giovanni said, pulling more bricks from the crate. “Let her cook it with you. You’ve only been in her domain, right? Welcome her into yours. Trust me, it’ll work. Or help, at least.”
“Thanks.”
Giovanni chuckled. “She’s still pretty prickly about the whole marriage thing even after a month of you two tying the knot, so maybe wait another month or so to let her cool down. She doesn�
�t like it when her sons don’t want her opinions or when she feels like we don’t need her anymore.”
“Italian mothers and their boys.” Cat smiled. “I’ll take it into consideration … in a month, or so.”
“Yeah, well, I know it’s fucking hard on my brother to feel like his mother hates his wife, so …”
Men sucked at emotions. Maybe that was why Cat got along better with men than females. She didn’t push Giovanni to say more, knowing he probably didn’t want to.
“Pass me down two of those bricks, would you?”
“Sure.”
Giovanni tossed the heavy blocks of packaged coke into Cat’s waiting hands. Without explaining her motives, she shoved them into her large purse. She preferred clutches, but since she had things to take care of tonight involving the blow import that came in the day before, she opted for the monstrous thing she toted around.
“Thanks. Don’t play with the product too much, Gio.”
“Have fun and smile,” Giovanni called after Cat as she walked through the warehouse.
She flipped him the bird behind her back.
The bastard just laughed.
Goddamn Marcellos.
• • •
“That asshole,” Dante growled, turning his cellphone off.
“What?” Lucian asked.
Dante’s fists clenched at his sides, turning his back to Cat. “Take Jordyn and go home.”
“No,” Lucian replied. “That’s not how this was arranged to go down.”
As Cat didn’t understand what changed over the course of a phone call to warrant Dante’s unknown new plan and anger, she chose to stay quiet.
“Seriously, take her and go. Carl is bringing his mistress along, not his wife.”
Lucian flinched. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“What’s the problem?” Jordyn asked, digging for the information Cat was curious about as well.
“It’s disrespectful to bring a goomah to a meeting when the other side brings their wife. It’s like saying mine or Lucian’s wife is only worth to him what his mistress is.” Dante cussed lowly, adding, “I can’t believe he did that to me.”
