Unruly

by Bethany-Kris

  “For exactly this reason,” Miguel murmured, “because it gives them ideas of stepping out on their own.”

  Catherine pressed her lips together in an effort to keep quiet for a second, and think. Miguel was right, none of this was simple.

  “What about girls?”

  “I just told you—”

  “Not current girls, Miguel. Former girls. I mean, wouldn’t that be the place to look if we believe—and I seriously do—that it was one of our girls who started pilfering the clients over time?”

  “That’s not going to be any easier, reginella.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because girls drop off the radar after they’re done. Sometimes they head out of country. Sometimes, a name change is in order. When they’re done, Catrina wants them to be done. Move on. Settle into a life away from this business, so that they’re not going to be picked out on the streets as one of her former girls. And honestly, a lot of them don’t want to be associated with this business once they’re done, either.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “But you have a good point.”

  “Think you could look into it for me?” she asked.

  Miguel smirked. “I can try, yeah.”

  Good, good.

  With Miguel on the trail of whoever the hell it was that had stolen their clients, that gave Catherine more time to work on her cocaine issue.

  But also …

  “As for the former client issue,” Catherine said.

  “What about it?”

  “Sometimes working your way through red tape, and their precious processes is just a waste of time. I’ll go over the list of former clients again, pick one or two, and pay a visit.”

  Miguel cocked a brow in disbelief. “As in … insert yourself right into their business.”

  “Daily life, yep.”

  “The whole point is to be their beautiful ghost, isn’t it?”

  “Time for some haunting, then.”

  “Catherine?”

  She barely looked up from the spread of makeup on her vanity. She was stressed, sleeping less than normal, and snapping at every little thing.

  It wasn’t that she meant to, but all the crap happening in her life was just making it difficult to get through the day.

  “Catty?”

  Catherine looked over at her husband leaning in the doorway of the large walk-in closet. It was the size of a bedroom, really. “Sorry, I’m a little out of it this morning.”

  “I can see that.”

  She waved it off. “It’s nothing. I think I’m catching a bit of that flu going around. All this stress is starting to get to me.”

  “Do you want to take a break, Catty? A mental health break is good for you, and shit, it’s good for me, too.”

  She laughed. “As soon as I get some things figured out.”

  “How did that meeting go with Miguel the other day?”

  Catherine looked at the small calendar taped to the left, lower corner of the vanity mirror. It was the first time she realized that it was already February first.

  Jesus, wake up, Catherine.

  “It went … okay.” Catherine shrugged. “We figured out some new options to try for the whole competition issue and whatnot.”

  Catherine’s gaze darted to her husband’s in the mirror. Then, she saw what he was holding in his hand down at his side.

  Oh.

  Well …

  Cross held out the small package to her. “I had one of the enforcers pick it up when he brought our coffees this morning. Some things were starting to add up.”

  Catherine eyed the pregnancy test again. “Things like what?”

  “Your mood.”

  “Cross.”

  He gave her a pointed look. “Trust me, your mood has been a little wild.”

  “That all?”

  “You puked twice this week and blamed it on a non-existent flu.”

  “I’m not sure I have the time to be pregnant right now with everything else I have going on, Cross.”

  “So you opted to ignore it?”

  Catherine glared at him. “No. I didn’t even consider that I was pregnant until just now.”

  Cross urged her to take the box again. “Hey, maybe you aren’t.”

  She didn’t need to actually take the test now that he brought it to her attention. Her period was three days late when she considered it. They hadn’t been preventing anything since way back during the Italy trip.

  It was bound to happen.

  Still, Catherine snatched the test, drifted into their connecting bathroom, and did her business. Three minutes later, she slid a positive pregnancy test into Cross’s waiting hand. He smiled down at the little plus sign blinking up at him.

  “Worried?” he asked her.

  Catherine answered honestly. “No, not at all.”

  “No?”

  She kissed his cheek, lingering there for a while before she said, “Gives me a bit of motivation to finish all this nonsense out, Cross. There’s no way I’m going to be handling all these problems with a new baby on my hip, too.”

  He chuckled. “I love you, Catty.”

  She smiled. “Promise?”

  “Always, babe.”

  Cross was already standing when Vlad Sokolov and his men entered the quiet restaurant. He stood to greet the Russian boss only because he figured the man had enough to be offended about without adding an Italian Don’s theatrics to the situation. Besides, Cross might be a boss, but he was not this man’s boss. He could not expect Vlad to show him any sort of respect by way of their traditions.

  Each step Vlad took echoed in the mostly empty space. Cross had made sure the place was cleared of patrons for the day, to give them a bit of privacy. The small staff on hand had been told to stay scarce unless called for. He was sure they would appreciate the bonus on their check for this.

  Only half of Cross’s attention was on this meeting, and that was his own fault. A week after realizing his wife was pregnant, and he figured his distraction was … well, appropriate, considering everything. Still, he shook off the thoughts keeping his attention split, and focused on the meeting at hand.

  Two men flanked the Russian boss. Both were large in stature, expressionless, and dressed entirely in black. Neither of the two graced Cross with their attention, but Vlad didn’t once take his gaze away as he closed the space between them.

  Cross didn’t bother to offer his hand to shake, instead waving at the open seats at the table. “Care to sit, Vlad?”

  “Nyet.”

  He was quite sure that meant no.

  Cross ignored the unsettling sensation weighing heavily in his gut. Flanking him, Rick and Zeke cleared their throats as the silence stretched on.

  “Where is my man’s daughter, boy?”

  The thinly veiled insult was easy to brush off. In fact, Cross barely acknowledged the man had said anything at all. It was far too common for men in their kind of business to see younger men as children compared to them. Vlad looked as though he had a good twenty years on Cross, or more.

  “I believe Katya is at home,” Cross lied.

  Katya was nowhere near Zeke’s home at the moment. Her safety needed to be taken into account, and it would be dumb to leave her alone at a spot that was well known as Zeke’s private residence. Even leaving her with an enforcer was stupid.

  “Home,” Vlad said, as though he could taste the word in his mouth. “Not her father’s home, no?”

  “I meant her home.”

  Vlad’s blank expression cracked with anger, darkening his weathered features. “It is true, then. The suka married the prick. I told her father that she was a whore.”

  Zeke moved forward, but Cross saw his friend’s action coming. He held up a single hand, stopping Zeke from coming any further, or from speaking up.

  It didn’t seem to matter.

  He had gained attention.

  Vlad’s gaze shifted slightly from Cross, to Zeke. “This is him, yes? Zeke. Stupid
name for a stupid boy.”

  Jesus.

  Apparently, Cross should have just went all out with his own theatrics anyway. The risk of offense be damned. After all, Vlad had zero issue with poking at them with insults. He had anticipated this meeting would go one way, but he hoped for too damn much.

  Clearly.

  “Pay no attention to my men,” Cross said. “They didn’t ask you here to talk, Vlad. I did.”

  Vlad’s gaze cut back to him instantly. “I will give you a piece of advice, Cross Donati. It would be wise for you to heed it.”

  “I didn’t ask for advice. I asked for a meet to chat about—”

  “Too bad. I will give it. You should not protect men who break the rules of our life. It puts a target on your back, boy, as I am sure you know.”

  Cross refused to respond.

  He already knew this.

  What was done, was done.

  “I want what is mine,” said one of the men behind Vlad.

  One of the two dressed all in black. The taller, bigger of the two. His gray eyes held no emotion. Possibly, no life at all beyond a beating heart.

  Vlad held up a hand, quieting his man. “In a moment, Timur.”

  “He’ll get nothing, and certainly not Katya. You’ll have to put me in the ground first. I promise you that.”

  Zeke’s fast reply came before Cross could stop it.

  Timur bared his teeth, and stepped closer, although he never passed his boss. “She does not belong to you. She was promised for me, you foolish Italian.”

  “She’s not property!”

  “Her father says differently,” Timur spat. “I’m going to enjoy breaking her in again. Did she tell you about what happened before I went in the pen? I bet she did.”

  Zeke came forward, and Cross barely had time to stop his friend from causing a bigger problem than they could currently handle. He grabbed the back of Zeke’s jacket and pulled him back, uncaring that his friend stumbled from the force.

  “I’ll fucking kill you,” Zeke snarled.

  “Ask her what my cock tastes like after it’s been shoved up her—”

  “You’re dead.”

  “Rick, take him out of here,” Cross told his underboss.

  Zeke hurled another insult—this time cursed, and in Italian—at a smirking Timur. Cross didn’t even think his friend realized it, but the Russian was only trying to rattle him. He had succeeded, too.

  Rick bear-hugged a still struggling Zeke. His wary gaze drifted to his boss, and Cross nodded. Instead of taking Zeke through the front, Rick headed for the back of the restaurant. All the while, Timur kept up his taunting, and Zeke threw promises of violence back at the Russian.

  This was not going well.

  Cross hadn’t exactly expected it to.

  Finally, Vlad spoke again. The first time since the entire interaction between Zeke and Timur began.

  “Your man is weak in his emotions,” Vlad said. “Easily provoked, no?”

  “Considering his situation, I don’t think he’s out of line, actually.”

  Vlad raised his eyebrow, and made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat. “Say what you will, then.”

  “I thought we could work something out instead of … this.”

  A dry chuckle escaped Vlad.

  “You thought wrong, boy.”

  Cross did bristle at the insult that time. “So you’re entirely unwilling—”

  “Katya Popov is to be returned to her father, or Timur. You have two weeks. Nothing more, nothing less. If you don’t return her, then I will begin extracting her.”

  “Puzza,” Cross corrected. “Her name is Katya Puzza. She is the wife of my man. She no longer belongs to anyone except herself, and her husband. Take that as you may, Vlad.”

  “I take that as an act of war,” Vlad murmured.

  So be it.

  “To be clear,” Cross said, picking his jacket up from the back of the chair, “this place is entirely surrounded by my people. Please, don’t get any bright ideas. I intend to leave here in one piece, as I am sure you do as well. Allow me to do that, and you will also get the same treatment.”

  “I have men who tagged along as well.”

  “Good. Seems we both expected this to end a certain way. Shame.”

  “Only because you will not hand over our property.”

  Cross sighed, and shrugged his jacket on. “She is a woman, not property.”

  “You will do this, yes?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Protect your man, no matter the cost,” Vlad clarified. “You will do this for him.”

  Cross nodded. “Yes, I will.”

  “Then it is you who is giving him the power, Donati. You are in need of the lesson, no? Two weeks; return the girl.”

  Cross smirked, and strolled past the Russian boss and his men. He was not about to show his concerns to these men. He certainly wasn’t afraid of them, but rather, annoyed.

  They were like flies—buzzing and irritating.

  Eventually, they would die off like all flies did.

  “Two weeks,” the Russian called after Cross, “otherwise, I will ruin you and your family for this.”

  “You can try, Vlad.”

  Once a month, Cross and Catherine liked to gather with their parents for a dinner. Life was so busy that it often kept them apart due to circumstance. Because of that, Dante and Calisto had one day decided that they would plan a dinner, and Cross and Catherine had to show up.

  No matter what.

  That tradition stuck.

  Usually, Cross was grateful for it. A couple of hours where he could spend time with his parents, in-laws, wife and daughter. No famiglia, no business, and no heavy expectations.

  Today, he was too distracted.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” his mother said, dropping a kiss to his cheek as she sat a plate in front of him on the table. “What are you and Catherine doing after?”

  “Or have you already done something for the occasion?” his father asked from across the table.

  Catherine smiled beside him. “I woke up to nice things on the table.”

  “Like what?” Dante pressed.

  His wife started ticking the gifts off on her fingers. “Roses. Those French chocolates I like. A new diamond choker. Heels.”

  Cross chuckled at the way his wife stressed her new shoes. “That was your favorite bit, wasn’t it?”

  Catherine shrugged. “I’m a shoe whore.”

  “You get that from your mother,” Dante said.

  Catrina nodded, but said nothing. She picked up her wine glass and took a drink instead. As far as Cross understood, tension was still thick between Catherine and her mother. He was still keeping a distance, and letting his wife figure her business out.

  It was not for him to play in.

  At all.

  “Me, too!” Cece said, darting out from under the table where she had been playing. “I has gifts today!”

  Wide smiles all turned on his daughter.

  “Oh, what were your gifts?” Catrina asked.

  Cece crawled into Cross’s lap, put her tiny hands to the table, and leaned forward as she spoke. “Like Ma’s.”

  “All her chocolates are gone, though,” Catherine said, side-eyeing their daughter. “Can’t you tell?”

  “That does explain the energy,” Calisto noted.

  Cross laughed, and let his fingers drift through the soft waves of his daughter’s hair. Cece preened over her shoulder at him.

  “Oh, and a brudder,” she said out of the blue. “I gots a brudder, too.”

  Catherine froze in her seat beside Cross.

  He, too, didn’t move an inch.

  “Cece,” he said quietly, setting his girl in the seat beside him, “we talked about this, didn’t we?”

  Cece smacked her little palms over her mouth, and her brown eyes widened in innocence. Her next words came out muffled by her hands. “Oh, I not tell, Daddy. Sorry.”

 
Cross shot Catherine a look, and she only frowned back at him. Apparently, his wife had been right when she told him not to tell their daughter about the pregnancy. Cece wasn’t very good at keeping secrets, but Cross felt if he told her she wasn’t allowed to tell then she wouldn’t say a word.

  He had been wrong.

  The table turned deathly silent.

  Catherine let out an awkward laugh. “Can we just ignore the toddler at the table?”

  “Not likely,” Emma said.

  Cross cleared his throat, and avoided looking at his wife again. He had no doubt Catherine was cursing him to the heavens at the moment. She fully believed in waiting until the first trimester had passed before announcing a pregnancy, only because should something happen, it gave them the option to deal with it privately.

  Right then, Catherine was only seven weeks along or so.

  “When are you due?” Catherine’s mother asked.

  Catherine sighed. “September thirtieth.”

  Another beat of silence passed over the table before congratulations and cheers lit up the space. Cross peeked at his wife, and gave her a small smile. She shrugged a little, and reached over to pat his cheek.

  “You were right,” he told her. “She has no concept of secrets or privacy. My bad. Lesson learned, Catty.”

  “I am always right, Cross.”

  Cece smiled brightly as her grandparents turned on her with their questions and excitement. Their angel loved being the center of attention, and apparently even more so now that it dealt with her getting a sibling.

  “Yes, a brudder,” she told Calisto, nodding enthusiastically.

  “You don’t know that,” Cross told her. “We don’t know that. It could be a little sister, Cece.”

  “I says a brudder!”

  Cross shook his head, and ignored the laugher rumbling down the table. Under the table, Catherine’s hand found his thigh, and squeezed. He snuck his hand around hers, and intertwined their fingers.

  Life still wasn’t slowing down for them.

  If anything, it had just picked up.

  Cross felt the weight of the world come and sit down on his shoulders in that moment. He was always asking for life to slow down so that he could enjoy his family a little more. The problem was, he had put into motion something that could very well take away everything that mattered the most to him.