by Bethany-Kris
He was fucking ecstatic.
“Merry Christmas, Cross.”
“Best Christmas gift ever, Catty.”
“Please remain seated for the safety portion—”
Cross ignored the woman speaking at the front, and pulled out the vibrating cell phone in his pocket. Not bothering to check the caller ID, he put the phone to his ear.
“Donati here.”
“Hey, boss.”
“Rick,” Cross greeted. “How’s things?”
“All right, I guess.”
His underboss didn’t sound too sure.
“I’ve been gone all of two days, Rick, so please don’t tell me shit is already falling apart.”
Rick scoffed. “Have a little faith in me, huh?”
“I do.”
When I’m within breathing distance, Cross added silently.
He had control issues where his famiglia was concerned. It was a bit unfounded, as neither Rick, nor Zeke, had ever given him a reason to distrust them. The two men handled the business Cross delegated to them without issue. They managed responsibilities between each other when Cross wasn’t there, too.
Still, he was detail oriented. It was difficult to see the details when he wasn’t there.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Rick assured. “I just thought I should give you a call, and check in.”
“Well, thanks for the call. You checked in.”
“Yeah.”
“I should let you go, though, as we’re about to leave the gate.”
“Well, one thing.”
“I knew it,” Cross grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. The three-day scruff tickled his palm. He was due for a shave. “What the fuck happened?”
“Nothing, boss, honestly.”
“But something.”
Rick made a noise Cross couldn’t decipher. “I don’t think so. I mean, sometimes he goes off for a day or two, but he calls on and off.”
“Who or what are you talking about?”
“Zeke.”
Cross straightened in his seat. “What about him?”
“Have you talked to him since you left the city?”
“No, but that’s not unusual. He won’t call unless something comes up. He knows better.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Is he ignoring your calls, or something?”
“Or something,” Rick said vaguely. “It’s just unusual for Zeke to drop off the radar when you’re out of town. You know what I mean? We go back and forth to make sure nobody knows you’re not around, and deflect the guys.”
“Well, find him.”
Cross wasn’t too worried.
Zeke was his best, and oldest, friend. He wasn’t out somewhere betraying Cross, or their family. Cross would concern himself with figuring out what in the hell was up with Zeke once he got back home.
“Call me if he’s still MIA by tomorrow,” Cross ordered.
“Got it, boss.”
He hung up the call, and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He considered calling Zeke, but thought better of it only because he trusted his friend.
Zeke had always been there when Cross needed him.
It never failed …
“It’s a girl.”
“What?”
Cross shoved the office door open wider, and stared in the room at his best friend. Zeke only stared back like Cross had grown a second head. He knew exactly what he looked like in that moment.
Crazed.
Insane.
Wild.
Unsure.
Terrified.
“It is a girl,” Cross repeated.
Zeke’s brow dipped in his confusion. “What are you—”
“The baby—the ultrasound today. We found out. We’re having a girl. Zeke, the baby is a girl.”
His friend grinned wide, and then barked out a laugh. “And you are scared shitless.”
“Yes!”
“You should be.”
Oh, Cross knew.
He didn’t need his friend pointing it out.
“I’m going to kill every human being with a Y chromosome that even looks at her, man.”
Zeke pressed his lips together in an effort to hold back more laughter. It did no good because his shoulders started shaking from the force. “You’re ridiculous, Cross.”
“Seriously. Oh, my God. What if she looks like her mother?”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Catherine is beau—”
“Shut your mouth. I know my wife is beautiful. I don’t need you pointing it out.”
Zeke held his hands high in surrender. “Well, I’m just saying.”
“We’re going to have a girl.”
His voice came out faint.
So wary.
God was punishing him because he had been such a shit as a teenager. God was giving him a girl for him to worry about, to make him more homicidal than he already was, and to test his very short self-control.
“God is not punishing you,” Zeke said with a roll of his eyes.
Had he said that out loud?
Wonderful.
“You don’t think?” Cross asked, moving into the office and closing the door behind him. “Because it kind of feels like it.”
“Cross, God is not punishing you. He’s giving you something wonderful.”
“I’m going to spend the next two decades of my life forcing myself not to hurt every little thing that makes her cry, or sad, or … anything, Zeke.”
“And that’s what’s going to make you a great father, man. Really. Don’t be scared, Cross. She’s going to be perfect. She’s going to adore you. You’re going to have a princess.”
“And if she looks like her mother?”
Zeke laughed. “We’ll teach her how to use a gun before she ever goes on a date.”
“Oh, my God. Dating. Fucking hell.”
“Maybe you should talk to like, your father. Or Dante, even, because—”
“So he can laugh at me?”
“Well, you would deserve it.”
“You’re not helping, Zeke.”
“Cross, she’s going to come from you. That kid is going to be just fine, and pretty damn amazing.”
“Obviously.”
“Relax.”
He was going to have to try.
Somehow.
“Would you be her godfather?”
Zeke instantly froze, and looked up at his friend from behind his desk. “What?”
“My daughter, after she’s born. Would you be her godfather?”
“I mean, yeah, of course, man.”
Cross blinked, his shoulders slightly lighter but his heart still racing. “It’s a girl.”
Zeke smiled once more. “Congrats, Cross.”
“Mr. Donati,” the woman at the check-in desk said with a smile, “here is the room key for you.”
He plucked up the keycard the lady slid across the desk. “Grazie.”
“Should you need anything, please let us know.”
“I will. And thank you for helping us along in this little surprise.”
She smiled impossibly wider. “Anything for our guests.”
Cross turned on his heel, and waved at the man holding his suitcase. “I’ll let you lead the way.”
“Sì, Mr. Donati.”
An elevator ride later, and Cross unlocked the hotel room door. He allowed the man to step inside and drop his bags next to the king-size bed before he slid a fifty into the man’s hand. With a nod, Cross closed the door to the room, and locked it back up.
He checked his watch, and the window. The sun was already setting, and he had at least another half an hour to wait yet.
It was just enough time to grab a shower, and change into a new suit.
By the time Cross was slipping his Rolex watch back onto his wrist, he heard the digital lock on the door beep like it did when a keycard was slid through the slot. He hadn’t even gotten a new suit on yet. He looked up just in time to see a beautiful, yet angry, sight b
low into the room.
It had been too long.
It had only been a week.
He didn’t care.
Anything for the love of his life.
Anything at all.
“Oh, you are perfect, my girl.”
Swaddled tight in soft pink, his daughter slept through his whispers. Cecelia “Cece” Catherine Donati came into the world just after twelve in the afternoon on September second, and she didn’t let a single soul in the whole wing forget she was there.
His child cried loud enough to wake the Devil.
She was perfect.
Catherine slept just a few feet away in her hospital bed, exhausted but unbothered. After the nurses kept coming in, trying to get the baby to latch, taking blood from Catherine, and interrupting their private moments … Cross said enough was enough. His wife needed to sleep. They needed time with their child.
Their nonsense could and would wait.
Nothing else mattered at the moment.
“Daddy’s pretty, pretty girl,” he told her.
Her face matched her mother’s. Her hair was soft tufts of brown. Ten perfect fingers, and ten tiny little toes. Cece’s little lips puckered, and her small nose twitched. He traced the line of her cheekbones with the tip of his finger.
Cross’s entire world had come to a standstill with one push, one cry, and one breath.
One baby girl with his last name, and her mother’s face.
Beauty and life was his child.
Love and soul was his wife.
Cross had known these things before, but now …
Now, he understood.
Anything he had to do to make sure his wife and child always knew how important they were to him, he would do it.
Always.
“Cross?”
Catherine was surprised at how faint her voice came out. All it took was one look at her husband in the dimly lit room, and the anger she had felt about her meeting with Giuseppe and the trick her mother pulled was entirely gone.
Just like that.
Because of Cross.
Fixing the Rolex to his wrist, he flashed her a grin. “Evening, babe.”
Catherine blinked.
And again.
Surely she wasn’t seeing what she thought she was seeing. Cross wouldn’t have flown over an entire ocean just to come and spend a couple of days with her.
Except … yes, he absolutely would.
“You’re not dressed,” Catherine said, eyeing him.
“Just got out of the shower.” Cross nodded behind her. “Shut the door, huh? We’re not giving anyone a show.”
Catherine blindly waved at the door until she smacked it shut. She couldn’t possibly take her eyes off her husband because he might disappear. Obviously, she still didn’t fully believe that he was there.
Yet, he was.
Half naked.
Gorgeous.
Smiling at her.
She loved this man.
“This is why you kept purposely missing my calls?” Catherine asked.
She still hadn’t moved an inch.
“No, I actually was just missing them a lot of the time. Once, I knew it would have been too early here and didn’t want to wake you up. I got your messages, though.”
“Did you get how progressively worried I was, too?”
Cross flashed her another sexy smile. “How could I ruin your surprise, Catty?”
“I … I don’t know.”
“Happy anniversary, Catherine.” Cross reached for the new suit dangling off the edge of the bed. “Well, tomorrow, but who cares?”
She planned to celebrate their anniversary on the phone with him as much as possible because she wasn’t heading home for another couple of days. Instead, her crazy, wild, beautiful husband had done something far better for her.
“Who else knew about this little plan of yours, Cross?”
“Everyone,” he said, not missing a beat. “You know, those that matter, anyway.”
Oh, my God.
Catherine had learned to be a much better person over the years. She still had spells of depression that came and went, but she understood how to deal with them. Sometimes, her anxiety was a bitch, but she could handle those spells, too.
The thing she had worked on the hardest beyond those things?
Being a good wife.
Loving Cross.
Giving him someone he deserved.
This man gave Catherine absolutely everything he had to give, and he never questioned it. Cross loved her stupid because he didn’t know anything different. He never hesitated to be the good man she deserved, so she figured out how to do the same for him.
Sometimes, like now, she still thought maybe she didn’t deserve him at all. He was amazing, and she was … amazing in his eyes.
He still wanted her.
She never let him go.
“You know I love you, right?” Catherine asked.
She finally tossed her purse aside, letting it fall to the floor beside a pair of high heels she had discarded earlier.
Cross wasn’t looking at her when he replied, “Of course, babe.”
He was too busy opening the buttons on the dress shirt to notice she was coming for him. It was already well after supper. If she got her way, they would not be leaving this room for the rest of the damn night.
He did not need that suit.
Catherine snatched the black Armani from her husband’s hand and tossed it to a nearby chair without as much as a thought. Cross’s gaze narrowed on his very expensive, crumpled suit before he looked at her with a raised brow.
“What—”
Cross’s question abruptly cut off when Catherine kissed him hard on the mouth. His hands came up to cup her jaw as her arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer. His body pressed into hers, making her aware he was already half-mast beneath his boxer-briefs, and making her wish they were already naked and in bed together.
She didn’t have far to go.
The bed was to their right.
Cross was almost naked.
For the moment, he seemed a bit more interested in only kissing her. Their lips moved in a familiar dance—stroking lips, grazing tongues, and blooming desire. Already, she was hot between her thighs. She had learned over the years that nothing would abate that feeling except him. No amount of rubbing her thighs together would fix that ache.
He kissed like he fucked, and Catherine loved that. Fast, hard, and now. Deep dives of his tongue that took over hers. Harsh strokes of his lips that made her weak.
“Fuck,” Cross mumbled into her mouth, “I missed you.”
“I can tell.”
His laughter lit up her soul.
“Get me out of this dress,” she demanded.
“My fucking pleasure, babe.”
His teasing, sinful mouth drifted over her neck while his hands left her face to do as she wanted. It wasn’t long before her zipper was down, and cool air was hitting her olive-toned skin. Warm palms slid over her body as he pushed the dress lower. It hit the floor and puddled at her feet in a forgotten pile of black material, but his hands were still exploring.
Cross’s gaze appraised her, moving up and down her form with slow, yet appreciative, intend. “Damn, you know I love this set on you, babe.”
His fingertips skimmed under the cup of her black lace bra, while his other hand slipped between her thighs. He stepped closer to her again. His lips skimmed her jaw and up to her ear where his tongue snaked out to flick against the shell.
“Open up those fucking legs and let me feel,” Cross uttered in her ear.
She did.
And God, there was one of the best parts of him.
She loved his cock, his hands, and his mouth. All of them were their own special kind of torture. He could level one on her at a time, and reduce her to nothing. Or, he could use two on her, and drive her absolutely insane doing barely anything at all.
Catherine supposed that was the best part of ha
ving loved this man since she was a young thirteen. He had many years to learn her body, and how to work it. He was the musician, and she was his instrument.
There was nothing he did not do to Catherine that wouldn’t produce some kind of beautiful music.
Between her thighs, his hand rubbed her pussy overtop the black panties. Firm, insistent strokes that were testing her, she knew. Checking to see if she was responding the way he liked before he pushed her a little further.
“You’re wet already,” he murmured along the seam of her lips.
Cross’s dark eyes flickered with sin and love.
“Are you surprised?” she shot back.
“Not in the slightest.”
That was all he said before Catherine felt the loss of him between her legs. She opened her mouth to complain, but only a soft yelp came out when his arms circled her waist and her feet left the floor. Catherine’s back met the king-size bed before Cross’s fingers dug into her waist with just enough pressure to make her breath catch.
“Get the fuck back here, babe.”
He dragged her closer to the edge of the bed, and yanked her panties down her legs. She didn’t see where he tossed the underwear, but she didn’t care as his body fit between her widened thighs. One of his hands came up to close around her throat while his other was suddenly three fingers deep into her sex, and his thumb driving hard into her clit.
The shock of his intrusion with no warning made her legs fall open impossibly wider, and her back arch off the bed. She was wet enough that it didn’t hurt even a little bit. She loved the way it stretched her open, and how each push and pull of his hands came a little harder than the last. His fingers curled in just the right spot with every fast thrust, hitting her G-spot over and over and over again.
Her body sang.
Her pussy clenched.
Catherine really just wanted to come, now. She loved the way his hand tightened around her throat as her cries came desperate and breathless.
“Make me come, Cross,” she pleaded. “Won’t you make me come?”
“You know it, Catty.”
“Please.”
“Damn, I missed the smell of your cunt when I’m playing with it, Catherine.”
His dirty mouth always did it for her. She didn’t care what he said, it was good regardless. Her orgasm came on like a swift wave. It took her over, under, and pulled her out before she could even think to prepare for it.
