“You look a little out of it,” Cross heard his mother say from down the hall. “Did you even hear what I was saying?”
“I always hear you, Emmy,” Calisto replied, “even when you think I don’t.”
“Then what did I say?”
“Color options for your dress tomorrow. Anything but red; I know his wife prefers red, so give her the option of being the only woman there wearing it.”
“You’re not worried about tomorrow, are you?” Emma asked.
His step-father laughed lowly. “No. Not at all. Families like ours don’t intermingle much when it comes to private occasions like this, but we were invited because of Cross’s involvement with the girl. It would have been rude to say no. We’ll go, and say hello, stay a while, but keep a distance as we should for the sake of business. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
Cross heard something shift against wood. Likely something moving on Calisto’s large desk.
“I was looking at this,” Calisto said.
“I took that picture.”
“Mmm, I know. We were getting ready for a wedding. I worried less about him back then. He let me talk a lot more when he was this young. He still played, still fell asleep in the backseat of the car when we had a long day, and he listened better. Far better.”
“He listens,” Emma said softly.
“To what he wants to hear,” Calisto replied, “and more often than not, he does not want to hear anything at all.”
“Cal.”
“It’s true, Emmy.”
A heavy sigh echoed out into the hallway where Cross was standing. He had gone looking for his parents after he got home, to let them know he was there, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was hearing now.
“It’s true,” his step-father repeated, “and now I worry about him all the time.”
“It could be worse.”
“How?”
“He could be partying all the time, drinking himself stupid, or doing drugs. So he’s a little mouthy and wild, and he lets his behavior be ruled by his wants and not his needs. He’s a teenager, Cal. That’s what you’ve been telling me since he was thirteen. He’s a teenage boy.”
“I wonder if it will ever level out for him, that’s all. Will his attitude ever level out with his temperament? I want him to find that balance, Emmy. Do you know how amazing he would be, if he only found his balance between where he is now and where he could be?”
“What is it that you tell me whenever I get impatient?” Emma asked.
“Give it time?”
“So, give it some time, Cal. He doeslisten, even when you think he doesn’t. He hears you.”
Cross figured he had heard enough, and he didn’t want his parents to know he eavesdropped on their conversation, even if it had been by mistake. He headed for the front door, walking as quietly as he could, seeing as how his parents must not have heard him enter the first time. He made sure to slam the front door loud enough for it to echo the second time.
Sure enough, as he came down the back hallway, his mother met him there.
She patted his cheek as she came to stand in front of him. “How was school?”
“Good, Ma.”
“You’re late. It’s after supper.”
“I headed over to Catherine’s since she wasn’t at school,” he explained.
Emma smiled. “To what, wish her a happy birthday?”
“Better than over the phone, right? I stayed for a bit after, too.”
“I see.” His mother nodded at the opened office doors. “Calisto is in there, if you’re looking for him. Camilla wanted lasagna, so that’s what’s in the fridge if you want me to heat it up.”
“Sure, Ma.”
His mother gave him one last, gentle pat to his cheek before she went down the hall. He headed into his step-father’s office.
Calisto sat behind his desk; his hand rested on a picture frame, but he let it go when he saw Cross enter. “A little late tonight, aren’t you?”
“Catherine,” Cross said in explanation.
“We’re heading over there tomorrow, Cross.”
Cross shrugged.
Calisto leaned back in his chair, saying, “One of my guys picked up your package from Marlo’s this afternoon.”
Marlo was a jeweler that Calisto had always used when he wanted something specific made, or needed something perfect found. Cross wasn’t much for jewelry, but he knew Catherine liked unique, interesting pieces. They didn’t have to be expensive things, just beautiful and different.
Kind of like her.
Cross had ended up with an idea of sorts for a piece, and he went to Marlo to have it made. The jeweler wasn’t sure he would have it done in time, but he got it done.
“Where is it?” Cross asked.
His step-father pulled a drawer open on his desk, and pulled a white velvet box out. He set it on the desk, and slid the box across the way.
“He included the invoice with it,” Calisto said.
Cross plucked up the box, and opened the top, looking at the item inside.
It was perfect.
“Oh?”
“You paid a lot for that, Cross,” his step-father noted.
“So?”
“I won’t say anything because I know you don’t spend money on nonsense to begin with, but it surprised me. That’s all.”
That was true.
All of it.
Cross had money. A lot of money, especially for someone his age. All he understood was that when his biological father had left his mother with divorce papers, he had also handed over all of his assets in the process. That included vacation homes, a condo in Jersey, and a luxury penthouse in upper Manhattan. There had been several vehicles, and anything else he left behind.
Emma hadn’t wanted any of it.
So, his mother liquidated it all, and put it into a trust for Cross. A trust that came out to a little over five million before interest piled on over a decade. He was allowed to pull a small monthly allowance from it, although he didn’t think a couple grand a month was exactly small. When he turned eighteen, he would be given access to the trust in full to do with what he wanted.
“Catherine likes interesting things,” Cross said.
“I didn’t bother to look and see what you got her, so I’ll have to trust your judgment.”
Cross flipped the box around so then his step-father could see the item resting inside white velvet. Calisto took one look at the piece and laughed loudly.
“Well, that is definitely—”
“Interesting,” Cross interrupted.
“Yeah.”
Cross grinned, and closed the box up. “I have my reasons for it.”
“I bet.” Calisto stood from his chair, and rounded the large desk. “I think I’ll go get some of the leftover lasagna from earlier. You must be hungry, too, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“All right, son.”
Cross waited until Calisto was gone from the office, and then he moved around his step-father’s desk. He never went behind the desk because he had always been told not to. It was not his desk, it was not his space. He wasn’t really sure why his step-father chose particular items to set on his desk, like specific knickknacks and whatnot. He also didn’t know what pictures Calisto looked at every day, as they were turned to face the man in the chair, not the guest on the other side.
He was curious, though …
Cross found the picture his step-father and mother had been talking about. He looked to be maybe five in the photograph, or maybe even six-years-old. He and his step-father were dressed similarly in white dress shirts and black ties, their hair styled and a mirror reflecting their images from behind Calisto. His step-father was bending down slightly in the photo, helping Cross to knot his tie, and smiling gently as he did so.
He didn’t remember this particular event, but he remembered a hell of a lot just like it from his childhood. He remembered that Calisto had always made time for Cross, no matter how busy he was. If he wanted to play, his step-father dropped everything to do whatever he wanted. Cross, like his sister, had always been a priority for Calisto, not simply an afterthought.
He loved his step-father for that. He loved him for being his dad, even though he hadn’t needed to be.
Anyone could be a father, sure, but not every man could be a dad. A man only needed to make a child to be called a father, but he had to earn his spot as someone’s dad. It was not the same.
Calisto taught Cross that lesson, and it was an important one, even if his step-father didn’t know it.
Cross had not realized how large the Marcello family actually was until they were all in the same house together. And loud. His family, like theirs, was Italian, but the Marcellos took it to a whole other level when it came to a party.
He had opted to take his Rover, while his parents drove their own vehicle, but by the time they arrived, the driveway and street was damn near full. His family threw parties, sure, but never this big; never with this many people.
Cross managed to get himself lost in the maze of people moving between a dining room filled with food, and every other goddamn room. Decorations hung from up above, pink flower centerpieces filled every table that had been set up, and he was sure it would take Catherine hours to get through the gifts that were placed in the living room.
Hours.
He was sure, if he could just find her, his girl was having the time of her life. Sure, this many people made him uncomfortable, but it wouldn’t for her. These were her family, and extended family. Her friends, her family’s friends, and her father’s people. She likely knew every name, and every face in the house, even if he didn’t.
Cross finally found Catherine in the main room, standing between her mother and father. Interestingly enough, his mother and father were standing there as well. The four adults talked quietly amongst one another while Catherine stayed quiet. He was just close enough to hear the conversation. The four adults only started talking when Catherine was pulled a couple of feet away by her younger cousin, Cella.
“Thank you for inviting us,” Calisto said.
Dante nodded. “It would have been strange for me not to, I think. Considering.”
“It would have been rude for me to refuse.”
“Puts us both in interesting positions, doesn’t it?” Dante asked.
“You could say that,” Calisto agreed.
“As long as it’s for the kids,” Catrina said with a smile, “then there’s no reason why we can’t all come together. I know it’s not the norm, but exceptions are always made. We certainly don’t mind, and business is quiet between our families.”
“Peaceful,” Emma agreed quickly. “And your home is lovely, Catrina.”
Catherine’s mother smiled wider. “Thank you. I’m quite proud of it.”
It was unusual for organized crime families to mingle in a personal way. Cross had been told his entire life that any more than one boss in a room would make for a bad situation if the two men were not there to discuss business at hand. He didn’t entirely understand why that was, only that it was how things were done.
A boss was meant to stay on his turf, with his men.
Cross suspected that his step-father was being careful—even in his words—to not overstep any boundaries where Dante Marcello was concerned.
As interesting as the meeting between his parents and Catherine’s was, Cross’s attention went back to his girl.
Wearing a dress that fell a few inches above her knees, with a skirt that flared wide, heels to match, and her hair done in long waves. She looked every inch a princess.
A Marcello principessa.
For a second, Cross just hid back in the line of people, and watched. It was only when Catherine’s father patted her shoulder, and nodded toward the entryway, that she finally left her parents’ sides.
Cross darted in and out of people, following behind Catherine until he was close enough to her that he could grab her wrist and stop her in a hallway between rooms. Only a few people milled about there, and they weren’t paying any attention to them.
Catherine smiled widely when she turned to face him. “When did you get here?”
“An hour ago,” he said, laughing. “This house is full.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Cross jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Come with me for a minute while nobody will notice you’re gone.”
“For what?”
“Just come on, babe.”
He grabbed her hand, and tugged her down the hallway, further away from the people and deeper into the back of the house. It seemed the Marcellos had rules about parties, and the back of the house where the pool and deck was situated was almost always off limits.
Cross didn’t let go of Catherine’s hand until they stepped out onto the back deck. Snaking an arm around her waist, he pulled her down to sit on his lap while he sat on the steps.
“Close your eyes,” he demanded.
Catherine made a face. “Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“When do I ever do anything because you tell me to?”
“Just do it,” he said.
Catherine fake sighed and closed her eyes, but not before giving him a wink. He pulled the white velvet box from the inner pocket of his leather jacket, and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold it in front of her.
“I didn’t want you opening my gift in front of everybody else because—”
“It isn’t any of their business what you got me?”
Cross barely held back his laugh, and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Well, that, too. But, mostly because they wouldn’t understand, and I couldn’t tell you why I had this made in front of them. Because yeah, it’s none of their business. Open your eyes, and open it up.”
Catherine reached for the white box, and quickly flipped open the lid keeping her gift covered. Her quiet gasp made him smile. Inside, rested handcrafted white-gold knuckles made up of four rings that had been formed together to make the main piece. On the top of each ring was a diamond, sparkling and sharp, ready to be pretty or dangerous.
He felt that kind of fit Catherine well.
She was so very pretty.
And so very dangerous for him.
The knuckles certainly weren’t actually meant to be a weapon—one good hit and it would likely ruin the diamonds, or the setting of the connected rings.
But even still …
“I might not always be around to punch the assholes that seem to follow you everywhere,” Cross murmured over her shoulder. “So, just in case.”
Catherine tipped her head back to rest in the crook of his neck. Her laughter shook them both, making his silent happiness grow. He kissed her cheek before she straightened in his lap again. “This is perfect. You know that right? This is perfect, Cross.”
“I thought you would like it.”
“I love it. Thank you. Where did you find it?”
“Had it made,” he said, offering nothing else about the piece or how it came to be. “Try it on for me, huh?”
She did, slipping the white-gold knuckles down the four fingers of her right hand. The rings weren’t meant to be a perfect fit to each finger, but it came pretty damn close. Cross was just going to file that down to luck, and nothing more.
Catherine turned fast on his lap, her skirt flying wide around them. With another laugh, she grabbed his face, the white-gold cool against his skin as she pulled him in for a fast, hard kiss that left his lips numb and his jeans tight as hell.
“Perfect,” she repeated, kissing him once more.
“As long as you like it.”
“You know that I’ve never actually punched someone other than my brother before, right?”
Cross lifted one shoulder, indifferent. “Just make sure you don’t tuck in your thumb. Anything else is pretty much fair game.”
Catherine tilted her head back, laughing to the sky. He tangled his fingers in the long waves of her hair, catching her gaze with his own when she finally quieted. “I love you, Cross.”
“Always, Catherine,” he murmured.
He didn’t want to ever love someone else.
No one else was like her.
No one else was her.
No one else could be.
“Shit, Cross, it’s been what, a few months since I saw you?”
Andino Marcello’s hand landed hard to Cross’s shoulder. One of Catherine’s two oldest cousins, Andino was eighteen, and one of the only Marcellos that Cross knew who didn’t attend the Academy before he graduated high school. Cross had met Andino through other friends, at parties and things like that. Built like a linebacker, anyone who didn’t know Andino would likely take a huge step back from the guy at first approach. His green gaze was cold, and his smile was a little mean, but Cross knew that was all for appearance where Andino was concerned.
“Six months sounds right,” Cross said, keeping one eye on Catherine across the room. “That bash at Zeke’s place in Odessa, I think.”
“Zeke got fucked up that night.”
Cross laughed. “I made his ass sleep right where he fell in the bathroom. No way was I dragging his stupid self to the bedroom just to end up having to clean up after him or something.”
“Smart.” Andino followed Cross’s gaze to find Catherine looking back at them. “So, my little cousin, huh? I heard you were running around with her, but I didn’t know for sure.”
“Guess so.”
Andino chuckled. “So hey, don’t screw up there because Dante wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in your skull. Fair warning and all.”
“Yeah, I got that impression a few times.”
“As long as you know.”
Andino gave Cross another smack on his shoulder as Catherine closed the space between them. “Happy birthday, little cousin.”
Catherine smiled. “Thank you.”
“Is your face tired from smiling so much yet, Catty?” Cross asked.
Her eyes flew wide, and Cross realized his mistake instantly. He was supposed to be careful with that damn nickname, especially around her family.
Andino grinned, a knowing tease already falling from his lips. “Catty, huh? That’s a new one.”
“Shut up, Andino,” Catherine muttered. “It’s my birthday, so don’t even.”
“Where did that name come from?” Andino asked Cross. “I mean, everybody calls Aunt Catrina by Cat, so just curious.”
Cross wasn’t sure how to answer.
Catherine saved him. “Yeah, like mom. Now get, and stop the teasing.”
“Sure, Catty.”
Her cousin left, tugging on her hair as he went and earning himself a glare from Catherine that wasn’t very scary at all.
“Ass,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Be nice,” Cross told her. “You only get one family, after all.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Say things like that. You sound like my father or uncles when they’re in one of their rants. Just … wow, don’t ever, ever do that, Cross.”
He snaked an arm around her waist, and brought her in close enough to his side that he could bury his laughter into her hair. She kissed the underside of his jaw, grinning all the while.
“Noted, sorry,” he said.
“You know they’re all going to call me that now, Cross? All of them. Now that one knows, it will pass around the family like wild fire. You don’t even understand.”
“You might be being over drama—”
“I am not, just you wait.”
“My bad,” he said to calm her.
Catherine frowned, but then quickly smiled. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I was told to get the hell out of here if I wanted, since it’s my party and I can do what I want.”
Cross raised a brow. “You mean since you’ve basically smiled for five hours and all the adults have started pouring alcohol?”
He had to give them credit, though. They lasted until supper was served before the alcohol came out to play.
“I mean, yeah. Let them party now. I need to call, though, if I plan to stay out past twelve.”
“Did they know you meant to go with me, when you asked?”
“Yep. Dad opened his mouth to say something, and Ma glared, so … what do you think?”
Well, then …
“What did you have in mind?” he asked.
Catherine shrugged. “Anything, Cross. But you had a point. I’ve been smiling and people-ing all day.”
“People-ing is not a word.”
“Best one I had. I really just want to take my heels off and do nothing.”
“Do nothing, but not here.”
“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’ with a wink.
“Are you going to have a babysitter follow along?”
An enforcer, he meant.
Catherine shrugged. “Probably, but they never follow me inside places, or bother us, right?”
True.
He found her father only sent enforcers when she was in the city, or out with someone who was not a man of her family. When she went out with her male cousins, enforcers didn’t trail behind.
Cross had an idea. “How about the beach?”
“It’s April, Cross.”
“Yeah, no. I meant, a house on the beach. It’s empty—small little place, but right on the beach down in Odessa. Zeke started renting it a while back, but he’s in Chicago for the next week with his dad, and I have keys. He’s got a big ass television the size of one wall and another wall of just windows that look out to a private section of beach in the back. Is that nothing enough for you?”
“He won’t be mad you crashed his place with me?”
Cross scoffed. “Zeke? I have years’ worth of receipts for how much he owes me, so don’t even worry about it.”
“If you say so.”
“This is awesome,” Catherine said, peering out the wall of windows overlooking the small patch of private beach. “See, this is why I would want to live in Florida or something.”
“Right, Florida. Where the gators can eat you, if the yearly storms don’t kill you.”
She gave him a dirty look over her shoulder. “Don’t ruin my dreams, Cross.”
“You’re not going anywhere but New York state, babe.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you would never go that far from your family,” he replied with a shrug.
“My brother is going to Detroit.”
“Your brother probably isn’t like you.”
Catherine stilled before saying, “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“Here, find a movie for us.” Cross tossed Catherine the television remote from the coffee table. “I need to call my step-father, and let him know where I went. I didn’t bother to find them before we left. I don’t need another lecture.”
“I think that’s called them parenting you, if it’s a foreign concept or whatever.”
He held up a hand as he walked into the kitchen. “Don’t need your judgement, either.”
Her sweet laughter echoed behind him.
It took Cross forever to explain enough to suffice Calisto’s questions. Where he was, who he was with, that Dante Marcello was not coming to find him with a gun in hand, and that he would be back home before morning. By the time he was done, Catherine had set herself up in the living room on a big mound of blankets. She wasn’t even watching the action movie on the television, but instead she faced the windows.
“You know,” Cross said as he slid in behind her, and pulled her close to wrap his arms around her middle, “your birthday was a hell of a lot louder than mine this year.”
“Oh?”
“The loudest mine got was when my sister dumped ice water on me in bed.”
Catherine’s shoulders shook with muted giggles. “Really?”
“Yeah, it was not a good way to wake up.”
“You didn’t have a party at all?” she asked.
“They wanted to; I didn’t. I got what I wanted. Call it a present.”
“You ruined their fun, probably.”
“Oh, no. They had lots of fun letting my sister turn me into a human ice cube. Where did you get these blankets?”
“Found them in a closet down the hall.”
Cross shook his head. “I didn’t tell you to snoop, Catty.”
“I wasn’t!”
“Mmhmm.”
“I didn’t, really, I just thought it would be nice to look out the windows and the couch doesn’t face that way. The floor is hard.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Okay, so I snooped a little,” she mumbled. “Shut up.”
Cross rested one hand under the skirt of Catherine’s dress on her outer thigh, while his other drifted through the waves of her hair. “Snooping brings trouble.”
“Well, sometimes. I found something, though.”
“Yeah, blankets.”
“No,” she drawled quietly, “something else.”
Catherine held her hand high giving him access to see the small foil packet she held between two fingers. Cross’s gaze darted to the condom, and then back out the windows to the water.
“So here’s the thing,” Catherine said with a small sigh, “I don’t want a bunch of questions about stuff, okay. You don’t push or pressure or ask. You let me do whatever on my own time, however I want. You’re good like that, which makes me good, Cross. I’m good. I’ve been good. I just … needed the right person, I guess. So don’t overthink, or whatever. Don’t get strange or weird about it, that’s all.”
“You know you could have just asked me if I had a condom, right?”
“Well …”
“Because I do,” he said when she didn’t keep speaking. “Not because I expect shit, but because it’s good to have one, just in case.”
“I know you’re not—”
“A virgin? Not since a week after I turned fourteen. I don’t think anybody’s first time fucking should be drunk and in the backseat of a friend’s car, though, but that’s how it happened. I was the one drunk, by the way. I wasn’t so nervous, then.”
Catherine turned her head just enough for Cross to see her frown. “That … doesn’t sound good at all.”
“Not really, no. The only bright side was that being drunk meant she didn’t expect me to be any good at what I was doing. But I got it over with, which was what I wanted. I got better at it all, too.”
“You had sex to get it over with?”
“I didn’t say it was smart, Catherine. I said I did it.”
“I don’t know her, do I?” she asked.
Cross hid his laugh in her hair. “No. Neither did I, still really don’t.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m not going to make it weird, like you said,” he told her, squeezing her thigh gently. “It’s like anything else with us, babe. It’s what you want, when you want it, and how you say you want it. It’s on your terms, not mine.”
“You just get to enjoy the background noise, huh?”
Cross grinned against her cheek when she turned her face alongside his. “Yeah, I just get to enjoy your noise. And you make beautiful noise, babe.”
“Because of you.”
“Don’t feed my ego. It’s big enough.”
Catherine’s smile faltered against his cheek. “Still a little nervous. I don’t want it to be like a big deal or anything. It doesn’t have to be like that, is all.”
“Now you’re overthinking. You say okay. Or you say stop, Catherine.”
“Okay,” she whispered.