by Bethany-Kris
Catherine went her way. Cross went his.
Simple as that.
Right?
With him sitting across from her like he was, grinning and looking her over with his dark brown gaze and his fingers running through his hair, she remembered more good than bad. The way his mouth tugged up in the corners when he smirked was enough to make Catherine’s lips tingle with the memory of what it felt like to be kissed all over by this man.
What was it with this guy that irked Catherine so damned much?
“You’re terribly quiet,” Cross noted.
“Thinking,” Catherine admitted.
“Dare I ask about what?”
“You know what, Cross. The same thing I always think about whenever you’re around.”
Like how stupid you make me, she added silently.
“You didn’t answer me. How have you been, babe?”
“I’ve been okay,” she replied.
Cross smiled as his brow lifted like he didn’t believe her. “Still running for your cousin?”
“Maybe.”
“Sure you are. Why else would you be here?”
Catherine waved at her plate. “Delicious food.”
“Mmhmm.”
Without warning, Cross reached across the table and grabbed Catherine’s hand. He squeezed gently and ran the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. Catherine tugged her hand out of his grip in order to hide the slight tremor that rocked her arm at his touch.
“Don’t do that, Cross,” Catherine muttered.
“Still as stubborn as ever, I see.”
“You liked it.”
“I might still.”
Catherine’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Uh …”
“Go out with me,” he said.
Catherine stared at him dumbly. “Um.”
“Come on, Catty, you always had a quick response for everything I or anyone else ever said. Don’t disappoint me now.”
“Cross—”
“Catherine, hey. Andino was asking if you were still here. He wants you to head back to the office for a few.”
Catherine blinked up at Jamie. The chef slid in beside their table with a glare pointed directly at the man sitting across from Catherine with his hand still held out toward her. There was no denying the fact that Cross watched Catherine like they were close, as if there was something still there between them.
Was it there?
She didn’t know.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
“Who is this, Catherine?” Jamie asked. “You haven’t mentioned having a friend.”
Jamie’s words dripped with resentment. Cross passed a disinterested look in Jamie’s direction. At the same time, Catherine didn’t miss the heat in her old lover’s eyes as he likely noticed how annoyed the chef seemed at the couple’s proximity and comfort with one another at the table.
Jealous.
Cross was jealous.
Jamie was jealous.
Catherine didn’t have the time for this nonsense. These two men could compare dicks another time when she wasn’t around. She didn’t give a flying shit.
“Thanks for letting me know about Andino, Jamie.”
Standing, Catherine left both her unfinished plate of food and her old lover cold in their respective spots as she grabbed her bag.
“Cross, it was nice seeing you.”
He didn’t even stand.
“Likewise, Catherine,” he murmured.
She hated that he did that, too.
Why?
Because she remembered all too well what his murmurs felt like whispering over her skin.
No time.
Not for this.
Chapter Eight
The part about Catherine’s older brother that she liked the most was his wife, Gabbie. Michel was a moody, difficult asshole on his good days, but his wife was the lighter side of his personality.
It made for fun family dinners.
“Your residency will be finished in what, a few months?” Catherine’s father asked from the head of the table.
Michel nodded. “Thankfully.”
“Long hours,” Gabbie said before taking a drink of wine.
“And have you decided what you’re going to do after?” Catrina asked her son.
“Private practice,” Dante said before Michel could.
Michel smirked. “Dad knows. Better money, you know.”
Gabbie sighed. “It’s not all about the money, Michel.”
“It’s a lot about the money,” Michel argued.
“Not all,” Gabbie said in a sing-song fashion.
Catherine’s father laughed at the head of the table, the joy in his old eyes softening his features. Dante often came off as intense and severe. So much so, that he intimidated most people who came in contact with him. Catherine knew that was simply because people didn’t really know who her father was.
Sure, he was a major crime boss.
But he was also a dad.
He was a family man.
He loved.
“How’s school?” Catrina asked, her sharp gaze falling on Catherine.
“Good,” Catherine answered.
“Wonderful,” Dante said, smiling widely. “Only a couple of years left, Catty.”
Catherine forced herself to agree. Truth was, it might be more than a couple.
Dante eyed his daughter silently, like he was looking for something that didn’t exist. All too often, her father did that nonsense. He was damned good at it, too.
“I talked to Andino today,” Dante said.
Shit.
Catherine stuck her fork in a piece of cut stake and asked, “Oh?”
“Yes, he mentioned you stopped by to eat at the restaurant.”
“I did.”
“What did I miss?” Michel asked.
“Nothing,” Catherine said.
“Oh, there must be something given the way you look,” Catrina said. “Or rather, the way you’re trying not to look, Catherine.”
Dio.
This was why Catherine sometimes avoided her family. They pried too much and stuck their noses where it didn’t belong.
“Are you seeing the Donati boy again?” Dante asked out of the blue.
Catherine dropped her fork. It landed on her plate with a loud clatter. It was the only noise the table made for the entire ten seconds that she spent staring at her father with her mouth wide open.
“What?” Catherine finally managed to ask.
“Donati. Cross. Affonso Donati’s boy.” Dante scowled when Catherine stayed silent. “Why are you playing dumb, Catherine? You know who I’m talking about. You dated him for years.”
“Why would you think I was dating Cross again?”
“Andino mentioned—”
“What, that Cross showed up at Andino’s restaurant and we had a conversation, Dad?”
Catherine blew out a heavy breath, more frustrated than ever. While her father had never explicitly told her she couldn’t date Cross, he’d never totally approved of the man. Catherine suspected it was just because someone was interested in her, and Dante never liked boys around his daughter all that much.
Dante raised a single brow high, and instantly, Catherine shut up. She knew which lines to cross with her father and which ones to never touch. Rudeness was one he wouldn’t accept. It didn’t matter how old she was.
“Sorry,” Catherine mumbled quickly.
“All right,” Catrina said, standing from the table. “Michel, let’s go … do something for a few minutes.”
“Come on, Gabbie,” Michel said, holding a hand out to his wife.
Catherine focused on her plate instead of the eyes of her father that were burning into her.
“Get it out, Daddy,” Catherine said.
Dante sighed. “I just wanted an answer, Catherine.”
“I gave you one.”
“That you had a dinner date with
Cross Donati at Andino’s restaurant. Yes, I got that.”
“What dinner date?” Catherine asked. “It wasn’t a date.”
“You didn’t invite him there?”
“No.”
Dante grew silent.
Catherine didn’t like that at all.
“What?” she demanded.
“Are you dating anyone?” Dante asked instead of answering.
Catherine tampered her frustration. “Why, so you can pay whoever it is off to get away from me? I know how you feel about men in my life, Dad.”
“I haven’t paid anyone off, Catty.”
“You’ve probably thought about it.”
Dante’s cheek twitched before he nodded once. “I’ll give you that.”
Smiling, Catherine said, “I’m not seeing anyone. And certainly not Cross Donati. He said he showed up at the restaurant for business with Andino.”
Well, he’d said business. Catherine assumed that meant with Andino.
“Andino said he didn’t invite Cross, sweetheart.”
Catherine stilled in her chair, taking in her father’s words.
What did it mean?
Had Cross sought her out?
Why?
“I want you to be happy, Catherine,” her father said. “I don’t care who you choose to be happy with. I don’t care if he’s a made man, or if he’s a regular man you meet someday. I don’t care as long as he loves you like you should be loved, mia ragazza.”
Catherine twisted her hands in her lap, sentimental and trying to hide it. She’d always had a closer relationship with her father than she had with her mother. She loved her mother, but it was often different with her father. Dante understood Catherine, he let her live how she wanted. She adored him for it.
“I’ll find the right one, Daddy,” Catherine whispered.
“The one that makes you happy.”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Sometimes, Cross did not make you happy.”
“I know.”
“And another thing,” Dante said.
“Hmm?” Catherine met her father’s gaze from across the table. “What?”
“Be mindful if he is seeking you out for something.”
Catherine knew that, too.
But the curiosity was burning.
Why had Cross done that?
Chapter Nine
ANDINO
“Evening, Ma,” Andino greeted, bending down to kiss his mother’s cheek.
Kim gave her son a warm smile and a pat on his arm. “Your father is tinkering in the garage.”
“I didn’t come to see Dad,” Andino half-lied.
He had come to talk to Giovanni, but he always made time for his mother, too. Being an only child had allowed Andino all of his parents’ love and attention as he grew up under their watchful eyes. His father had been easygoing and fun, as had his mother.
They made for interesting parents, if nothing else. Andino had been allowed to experiment with life without expectations or demands weighing him down. He’d always had a confidant in his father, should he need to talk. He’d always had a supporter in his mother, no matter his decisions. Judgement held no place in his parents’ home and lives, and certainly not toward Andino or his choices.
Andino didn’t even remember having rules.
“Was that a new Lexus I saw out in the driveway?” his mother asked.
Andino moved to sit beside her on the couch, grinning wickedly. He had a taste for expensive things, cars most importantly. “Yeah.”
“You spoil yourself, Andino. Everybody always said we would be the ones to spoil you because you were an only child. I think they were wrong. You certainly didn’t pick up your love of expensive things from your father and me, as far as that goes.”
Chuckling, he rested back into the couch and let the familiarity of his parents’ home soak into him. “I have to spend all the money I make in some way, Ma.”
“How about on a girl?” Kim asked, smiling slyly.
“A girl?”
“Find one, marry her, and then you’ll have lots of more things to spend your money on, Andi. Things other than yourself. I think you’ll find spending your money on someone else instead of yourself is rewarding.”
“Ma—”
Kim clicked her tongue, stopping Andino before he could rebut her. “I want grandbabies someday, Andino. You’re twenty-eight, it’s time to settle down. Find someone to do that.”
“I don’t think you get it, Ma,” Andino said quietly.
“Oh?”
“No. I haven’t found anyone who makes me want to settle down. I won’t force it simply because you want grandchildren to spoil rotten.”
Kim smiled, but even the sight was sad. “I know.”
Sighing, Andino asked, “Do you regret not having more children after me? Maybe if you had, you would have some bambinos running around or something.”
“Not for a second.”
Kim hadn’t even hesitated before answering him. Her words came out frank and honest. Andino believed his mother. She had never even mentioned having more kids as he grew up. Neither had his father.
“Besides, your father would have lived his life in a constant state of panic had I birthed him any girls,” Kim added, laughing softly. “When you came along, Gio might as well have skipped off to the doctor’s office to make sure we wouldn’t have any more.”
Andino grinned, knowing that was probably true. “You’re terrible, Ma.”
“I only speak the truth.”
Kim tossed the magazine she was reading to the coffee table and gave all of her attention to her son. While his mother’s eyes were a slate blue, Andino’s were a forest green like his father’s. But in features, he knew he looked more like his mother. Where Kim was soft in her lines, Andino was the more masculine, shaper version. She often told him that he looked like his uncle Cody from Vegas.
Andino had never met the man, but it was only a matter of time before he eventually would. Cody Abella was the boss for the Vegas Cosa Nostra, after all. Giovanni was careful about keeping his son away from Vegas for as long as Andino could remember, although his father had never outright explained why.
He figured it had something to do with his mother. Like how she met his father. Andino wasn’t stupid. He knew how that happened.
People talked.
“How is work?” his mother asked.
“Quiet, but busy like usual. Keeps me going.”
“And John?”
Andino remained passive at the question. “Are you asking out of concern for him as an aunt, or are you trying to pry information out of me for Dad?”
Kim smiled. “You’re too observant for your own good.”
“No, I just know you, Ma.” Andino shrugged, saying, “Dad can ask John how he’s doing if he’s worried about him. John was always closer to Dad than he was his own father, anyway. But honestly, he’s doing okay. He’s been home a few days and nothing has happened yet. He’s working and whatever. He’s got a lot to catch up on. Three years is a long time to be out of this game.”
Kim’s hand reached out and grabbed Andino’s wrist. She squeezed him tighter than he expected her to. “Don’t say that, Andi.”
“Hmm, what?”
“A game. Don’t call this a game. It has never been that, you know it. If you treat it like it is, then you’ll lose like the rest who treat it like that, too.”
Andino patted his mother’s hand. She worried too much about him, and always had. Kim had never actively discouraged her son to join Cosa Nostra, nor did she say a bad word to him when he’d started dipping his hands in the family businesses and mafia. Kim simply let him live and grow to be whoever and whatever he wanted or needed.
He loved his mother more for it.
She still worried.
“I’m good, Ma,” Andino assured.
“Good is not always safe,” Kim replied.
She was right.
“Where is this coming from, huh?”
Kim glanced down at her hands, avoiding her son’s gaze. “Nothing, Andino. Don’t worry about it.”
He wasn’t sure he could do that, now. Especially not with the fact she seemed like she was trying to drop the conversation altogether, and she still wouldn’t look at him. What was up with his mother?
“Ma?” Andino pressed. “What is it?”
Kim shook her head, looked up at him, and smiled. “Like I said, it’s nothing. I just want you to know something, Andino.”
“Sure, Ma.”
“I’m so proud of you. I always am, no matter what.”
Andino flashed her a smile. “I know.”
“I want to keep being proud of you, Andi.”
He straightened on the couch, surprised at her words.
“Why wouldn’t you be?” he asked.
Kim reached out and patted his cheek gently. “Just remember to follow the rules, Andino. It might not be what you want right now, but it could be the best thing for you someday.”
Andino blinked, more confused than ever.
“All right,” Andino murmured. “Follow the rules. I got it.”
“Good.” Kim stood from the couch and brushed her pant legs down. “Go find your father and tell him supper is almost ready. I wasn’t expecting you, but I’ll throw an extra plate on the table. Is casserole okay?”
“Anything you make is perfetto, Ma.”
Kim laughed. “You are just like your father. Too slick for your own good, and you know it, too, which only makes it worse. Why can’t you find a girl with all that charm of yours, huh? Draw her in, Andino. It’ll be worth it, I’d bet all my money on it.”
Andino didn’t think so, but he didn’t correct his mother.
“You just want grandbabies,” he said.
“I do,” she agreed, totally unashamed. “So get to work on that.”
Chapter Ten
“Son of a whore,” Gio snapped.
Andino flinched when his father tossed a wrench across the garage with a flick of his wrist. The metal tool flung in the air until it embedded itself into the far wall. It wasn’t often that Giovanni Marcello turned physically violent, so it still shocked Andino, even at his twenty-eight years, when his father did strike out.
“Jesus,” Andino muttered. “Chill out, Papà.”
