“Mmm,” Catherine moaned. “Fuck, yeah.”
Cross’s nose nuzzled behind her ear, and then his teeth nipped into the lobe. She could smell him all around her. His body, his sheets, and God, all of him. She could taste him on her tongue. Man, sex, salt, and lust.
“Had enough yet?” he asked in her ear.
There was a huskiness in his words. A sexy drawl to his tone dipping it lower.
“No,” Catherine said in a breathless laugh. “Never.”
Cross was tucked into her back while she laid on her side. He’d hooked her leg over his thigh as he fucked her from behind. His one hand caged her wrists in above her head, while his other toyed with her clit.
Jesus Christ, she was almost numb.
So full, so fucked, and so blissed.
Airless. High. Insane.
It was wonderful.
He used his fingers first. Then, his mouth. His cock.
Now, all.
“Some might consider this torture, Catty,” he murmured.
His teeth, tongue, and lips teased the back of her neck. Sucking. Licking. Bite marks. Fuck, she loved his bite marks.
She’d already came eight times.
He was working on nine.
He was trying to make her lose.
Say she couldn’t.
Give up.
Never.
Catherine didn’t know it was possible to actually orgasm that many times. Sure, it took a bit. Longer each time. The orgasms shortened and weakened. Sometimes they hurt. She loved it like nothing else.
“Almost, almost,” she breathed.
Cross’s dark laughter sent her spinning. His fingers went from circling her clit to a sharp pinch as his teeth bit the cord of muscles on her neck. A hard, brutal thrust answered those moves of his, and she came harder than ever.
The cry that escaped her lips was so broken, and so lovely.
“Yeah, give that to me, babe. Soak my fucking sheets, huh?”
His rhythm slowed as she trembled her way through an orgasm that damn near blinded her. She was so fucking wet between her thighs that it was ridiculous. Sticky and hot and sweaty.
It was the best way to spend a morning.
It was decided.
End of story.
Cross’s fingers sped up between her thighs as she gasped a tired cry. Suddenly, she was far too sensitive, and she needed to breathe.
“You’re going to kill me,” she told him.
“Not like this,” he promised.
Catherine felt the loss of him between her thighs at the same time he turned her over. Her eyes widened when his hands finally let her go just to drag down her sweat-slicked back.
“One more time,” he told her.
“I don’t think I can,” she admitted. “I can’t even think.”
“Good.”
Cross leaned over her to pull something from out of the nightstand. A small bottle—lube, she thought. Her body was so hot that the cool dribble of lubrication sliding down along her ass was a shock.
“Shh,” he soothed.
Already leaning over her, his voice was in her ear again.
Promising.
Demanding.
Wanting.
And Catherine thought … even loving.
“I promised you something with this, didn’t I?” he said as two of his fingers worked their way into her ass. Slow and steady strokes that eased her clenching muscles and felt oh, so fucking good. “I want you coming on my cock when it’s deep in your ass, Catty. Don’t you want that?”
Nerves bubbled though her blood. A third finger in her ass made her burn and throb at the same time. The sting was quickly replaced by something far better. A deep ache that didn’t hurt, but made her want to beg.
“Come on, Catty,” Cross said, his lips ghosting along the top of her spine, “use words for me.”
The only thing that managed to come out of her mouth was a quiet, “Please, please, please.”
“Hmm?”
Her nerves were already overworked. Her body was tired despite sleeping all night better than she had in years. She didn’t even think she could get close to an orgasm again.
She still wanted him to try.
Especially like that.
“Please, Cross,” Catherine whispered.
“Catty …”
“Fuck my ass, please.”
“Jesus, you sound so good when you’re begging like that, babe. Remember this the next time you want to wake me up by sucking my dick. It’s not nice to make a man come before he even gets his eyes open. It’s called dignity.”
She was paying for that trick, too.
“You’re just giving me reason to do it again,” Catherine warned.
Cross chuckled. “So be it.”
His fingers left her ass, and she felt that ache grow larger almost instantly. Being filled and stretched open there was a whole new sensation—something wicked and wonderful. He didn’t leave her wanting for long, though.
Cross’s cock was at her ass before she had even taken a breath. Thicker, and longer, that good ache turned harsh in a blink as he worked his cock through the tight ring of muscles. One of his hands traced the line of her spine, and his other spread her ass cheeks.
“Shit, are you going to relax for me, Catty, or what?”
“I …” she failed to form words.
Cross still found his. “Let me make this good for you, babe. Breathe.”
She did.
Her nerves sung. Her body heated all over again. He was slow and soft until she could feel his groin pressed tight to the curve of her ass.
Cross’s hands drifted over her skin again, but only to reach up and tangle in her hair. He tugged, making her head tip back while she licked her lips. “You good?”
“So good,” she promised.
He pulled back until just the tip of his cock was inside of her, and then he slammed back in.
Catherine begged again.
He fucked her crazy.
She made it to ten before he painted her back with cum.
“That looks good,” Cross murmured over Catherine’s shoulder.
His face nuzzled the back of her neck while his hand grabbed tight to the curve in her waist. She tried to keep her attention on the two omelets she was cooking on the stove. She dragged the spatula along the edge of both pans to keep the egg, cheese, and vegetable mixture from sticking.
“Smells good, too,” he added.
“It’s almost done.”
“I’m starved.”
She laughed under her breath. “After your little game this morning, I bet.”
“You started that.”
“And you finished it, so.”
She felt his pleased grin form against her skin. “Well, fucking yeah.”
“Arrogant.”
“Goddamn right.”
Cross kissed her cheek and winked, then grabbed the cup of coffee from the counter she had made for him. Sipping on it, he turned his back to the counter, and watched her in that way of his. A way that said he had something on his mind.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Mmm.” Catherine nodded to the side. “I forgot last night, but there was something taped to your door when I got here. I shoved it in my bag.”
Cross reached over and dug through Catherine’s Gucci purse until he pulled out a white envelope. Waving it, he asked, “This?”
“Yep.”
“You look inside?”
“It’s still sealed, isn’t it?”
Cross shrugged and ripped open the envelope. Tipping it to the side, a stack of bills fell into his waiting hand. He tossed the ruined paper aside and counted the bills. “Three thousand will do it, I guess.”
Catherine gave him a look. “What’s it for?”
He flashed a note that had also been inside. It simply read, For the taillight. “One of your father’s men made a show a week back. Busted my Porsche’s taillight out. Actually, it was a few of them. Only one did the damage. I just let them know unless they wanted something of theirs to meet a worse fate, I expected repayment.”
She frowned. “Really?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Isn’t it?” Catherine turned off the stove, and pulled the two pans off hot burners and onto cold ones. Then, she turned to Cross. “This was all after the restaurant thing?”
“So?”
“Has anything else happened?”
Cross looked away. “Some nonsense, I suppose. Following me. People showing up at businesses I frequent. Phone calls. Nothing that bothers me too much.”
“And what’s been said?” she pressed.
“Catty.”
“Cross.”
She already knew his answer before he said it. “I’ve been told to keep away from you, for the most part.”
“Except you let me in last night.”
“Because I don’t give a fuck what somebody tries to do to me,” Cross said with a smirk. “I’m not easily scared. After what your father already did to me once, the only thing he can really do now is kill me.”
Catherine felt her cheeks drain of color.
Cross stepped closer, and set his cup aside. Reaching for her, he cupped her cheek, and stroked her jaw with his thumb. “Hey, I was joking, babe.”
“Were you?”
“Mostly.” Cross shrugged, adding, “He’s trying to intimidate me, and it’s not working. This is about me and you figuring shit out. Not him.”
Catherine looked up at him. “What if it gets worse?”
“I don’t think it will.”
“Why not?”
“Because Dante loves you.”
“So?” Catherine asked.
Cross waved a hand between them. “And here you are with me not locked down somewhere else.”
Oh.
“I did wonder, though, when I saw you here last night,” he said.
Catherine didn’t understand. “Wonder what?”
“What you were doing, I guess. Was it some stunt you were pulling on him? Rebellion, maybe? I considered it for a moment.”
“But you didn’t ask,” she said.
“I didn’t really need to,” Cross replied with a grin. “You don’t play games with me, Catherine. You never have. Your father won’t be the one you decide to start with where I’m concerned.”
He was right.
She was there because she wanted to be. It felt right. Nothing else mattered.
“Did you ever think to contact me, or try?” Catherine asked. “Anytime at all during these past seven years?”
Cross nodded as he picked up his cup. “Sure, but I never did.”
“Obviously. Why not?”
“One year turned into two, and then I was looking down six years before I blinked. I thought … she doesn’t even know you exist anymore, so let her live.”
Catherine’s gaze darted to his, and she found truth there.
It still scared her a little.
“How could I not know you existed, Cross? You were the one who made me live.”
He smiled, but said nothing. Draining his cup, he set it in the sink before pulling dishes from the cupboard. He helped her to set the omelets onto plates.
Cross reached up to slide two fingers under her chin as she set the cooling pans into the sink. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
Love stared back.
She wasn’t quite so scared of that. Only when she thought it might hurt again.
“Say something,” she whispered.
“I’m always going to love you, Catherine. You know that, right? I always have.”
“I’m scared you’re going to break my heart again, Cross.”
“Are you going to let me prove that I won’t?”
“Uncle Giovanni,” Catherine greeted.
Her uncle lifted a hand in hello, but didn’t end the conversation he was having on his phone. “Andino, son, call your mother. Stop being difficult. I am not playing peacemaker between the two of you, and that’s the end of it.”
Cross shot Catherine an amused look as they neared her car. She had parked it in one of the visitor stalls in the underground garage the night before. Her uncle had been leaning against the driver’s door when they came into the garage.
Giovanni hung up the phone, and turned his attention on Catherine and Cross. “Morning.”
Cross only nodded in response, but pressed his hand to Catherine’s lower back. “Give me a call, huh?”
“I will,” she promised.
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, and then turned to leave.
“Tell your father I said hello, Cross,” Giovanni said. “It’s been too long since he and I have had a proper conversation.”
For reasons Catherine didn’t understand, Cross hesitated in his steps. He looked over his shoulder at her uncle with a curious gaze.
“Calisto, you mean,” he said.
“Your father, yes.”
“My step-father,” Cross returned. “Everyone likes to remind me that he isn’t my real father.”
Giovanni shrugged. “Sì, well, that is them. I would never hurt my friend with that lie. As I said, tell your father I said hello.”
“I’ll do that, thanks.”
Cross headed two rows over in the underground garage to his Rover. Catherine waited until he pulled out of the space before turning back to her uncle.
“That was a strange conversation,” she said. “If you could call it that.”
To say the least.
Giovanni smiled faintly. “Not so strange, Catherine, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“That, reginella, is a story for another day. Every man has his secrets. A few of us are lucky to know them, and so we choose to keep them safe.”
What?
“You know what, never mind,” Catherine said.
Her uncle was acting too strange for her to even bother.
“Do you remember when you were about, oh, fifteen or so? Your mother and father took Michel to Detroit to check out apartments for when he moved out that following summer.”
Catherine stiffened on the spot. “What about it?”
“You had the house to yourself that weekend. No babysitters inside.”
“Uncle Gio—”
“I came over to check on you, and there was flour all over the kitchen,” her uncle continued as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “You said some crap about a bug or whatever. I knew it was bullshit from the first word out of your mouth.”
Catherine could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “So?”
“You do realize there were footprints in the flour, right?”
“Oh, my God.”
Giovanni nodded to himself. “Two sets. One very obviously smaller, and yours. The other larger, and I thought, likely—”
“Yes, Cross was there,” Catherine muttered.
Her uncle chuckled under his breath. “I thought so.”
“Why didn’t you say anything, then?”
He shrugged. “I figured I had probably scared the shit out of the kid enough.”
Catherine laughed. “Not nearly enough, though. He stayed all weekend.”
“They did say Cross was always … fearless. You don’t seem all that surprised to see me here,” Giovanni said.
He stepped away from her Lexus as she pulled the fob out of her bag to unlock it.
“Not at all, Uncle Gio.”
“Neither did Cross, really.”
“Nope,” she said.
“Apparently, I rolled my ass out of bed before ten for nothing,” Giovanni grumbled.
Catherine side-eyed him. “Daddy sent you over?”
“How did you know?”
Her uncle sounded both amused and sarcastic at the same time. It was one of the reasons everyone—young and old—in their family adored Giovanni. Though he aged, he still behaved far younger than his years. He did not take anything too seriously. And he was always the first to bend rules simply to make things fun for everyone else, including himself.
“Well, to start,” Catherine said, “I know what he’s been doing.”
“Oh, do tell. Amuse me.”
“Having Cross followed. Allowing his men to make public scenes. I think we would call that intimidating him. Although, frankly, he’s just pissing Cross off. Someone needs to tell Daddy that this is all pointless. I told him what I told him, and I meant it.”
“Yes, I think he said that you were going to do what you wanted to do, and he could fuck off.”
“I did not use those words.”
Giovanni smirked. “I colored them up, Catty. Life is better when you color shit up.”
She laughed. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Remember it. It’s good advice.”
“Mmhmm.”
“However, knowing that there’s been some tension on the streets doesn’t tell me why you weren’t surprised to see me here.”
“You know what, no, that’s a lie. I am kind of surprised.”
Giovanni’s brow raised. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I mean, if he was going to send one of my uncles, he should have sent Uncle Lucian. At least he can be mean when he wants to be. You’re kind of a—”
“Watch it,” Giovanni murmured darkly.
Catherine grinned. “A sweetheart, zio.”
“I’ll … accept that, as long as you never repeat it outside of us.”
“Cross my heart.”
Giovanni folded his arms over his chest. “It almost was Lucian who came, but your father and he are in a bit of a spat. Once he figured out why Dante wanted him to be here this morning, he refused.”
“Shame,” Catherine said as she opened the driver’s door. “I suppose he meant this to be a warning for me. That he knows where I was last night, and with whom, right?”
“Saves me the time of explaining.”
“I’m already aware that my enforcer lets him know those things.” Or rather, Jordyn filled Dante in on details that had nothing to do with her business with Andino. It satisfied her father’s need for information. “I figured someone might be down here this morning because he called me last night, and I didn’t pick up.”
“Maybe you should have.”
“Maybe I was busy,” Catherine shot back.
Giovanni coughed, and glanced away. “You’re going to give your father a stroke if you talk to him like that. Or, God, a heart attack.”
“He’s perfectly healthy, so no worries. Daddy doesn’t like to be told no, and that’s the real problem. I’m more than old enough to make my decisions where Cross and I are concerned, and he needs to let me make them. He doesn’t have to like them.”
“I agree.”
Catherine hesitated as she was climbing into her car. “Do you?”
She looked back to her uncle.
Giovanni smiled. “Dante will only push you so hard, Catty. You’re too much like your mother for him to try much else, and he knows it damn well. He’s already tested his waters with you, and clearly it’s gotten him nowhere.”
“Clearly,” she echoed.
“Try not to make this too hard on him, okay?”
“And what is this?”
Giovanni waved a hand flippantly. “Leaving him behind, of course. You’re not a little girl anymore. You don’t need him to save you. He might be holding onto that idea, and you could say that Cross is the thing he’s trying to protect you from. So yes, leaving him behind. What else?”
Well, then …
“Also,” Giovanni added.
Catherine sighed, and looked back out at her uncle. “What now?”
“Your father sent me over to remind you about the dinner this weekend with the family. You might be able to disregard his calls and demands, but the rest of us are a bit harder to ignore. Be a good Marcello, and put your happy face on after church on Sunday. Especially for Cecelia and Antony. Do not disappoint your grandparents by not coming only because you want to hurt your father.”
“I wouldn’t do that to them,” Catherine said quietly.
Giovanni nodded once. “I didn’t think so, but sometimes a reminder of what is important can be helpful, Catty. I will see you on Sunday.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come this weekend, Catherine.”
Catherine strolled on past her father as she entered the old Marcello mansion. “Why wouldn’t I come, Daddy?”
“You know exactly why.”
Catrina shrugged off her jacket, and took Catherine’s as well. “How was your week, mia reginella?”
“Pretty good.”
“Oh?” Her mother smiled. “I missed you, though. You didn’t come over.”
Catherine’s gaze darted to her father who was still watching her with barely hidden irritation. He was angry and disappointed with her. He still wanted her to bend to his demands. She couldn’t do it, and he had to respect that whether he liked it or not.
“I’ll come over this week,” Catherine promised her mother.
She kissed Catrina’s cheek.
Dante sighed, and strolled on past his wife and daughter. Once he was around the corner, Catherine finally relaxed a little bit.
Her mother didn’t miss it.
“Give him some time,” Catrina said.
Catherine rolled her eyes. “To what, Ma, send more men to break something else on Cross’s car? Or how about sending Uncle Lucian the next time I stay the night with Cross? He’s made how he feels abundantly clear.”
“You’re spending nights with him?”
“That’s all you heard in that?”
“Well … no, but it’s a detail I find interesting. I’ll talk to your father again, Catty.”
“It’s pointless. You’re both too stubborn. His mind is made up. It’ll just end with you two in a fight, too. Leave it alone, Ma.”
Catrina cocked an eyebrow. “How little faith you have in me, dolcezza.”
Catherine chewed on her lower lip before saying, “Ma, it’s not that I don’t think you could help, but more that I don’t want you to. I need Daddy to let me make these choices on my own. For him to understand that whether or not they are good or bad choices, they are still only mine to make. It’s time for him to step back.”
“And let you fly,” Catrina said quietly.
“Exactly.”
“You know that scares him, though, don’t you?”
“I know he’s scared I’m going to find myself depressed again,” Catherine replied, “and that it might lead me where it did the last time. I also know I can stumble into another one of those spirals simply because I’m not managing my own happiness, but trying to placate his. I still don’t want you arguing with him over me, Ma. I needed to learn these things on my own; it’s time for him to learn, too.”
Catrina’s lips pursed. “I won’t talk to him, then, but know that he loves you so very much, Catty.”
“I know he does, Ma.”
Her mother patted her cheek. “Okay, let’s put on a smile and eat some good food.”
That sounded like a great plan.
Unfortunately, their large family dinners were not as large as they used to be. As the Marcello cousins became older, and had lives of their own, it made it difficult to get everyone to gather at the same time.
Cella—Lucian and Jordyn’s second daughter—had married a lawyer, and being that she was heavily pregnant with her first child, often came depending on her mood and energy. Liliana, the older of the two sisters, married Joe Rossi from Chicago, and only came home a couple of times a year. Their youngest sister, Lucia, newly turned eighteen, had just left for college in another state. Johnathan, the oldest of the four, was the only one actually at the dinner.
Andino, too.
All of Catherine’s aunts and uncles.
Her grandparents.
Gabbie and Michel.
And of course, her parents.
Still, the large table that her grandparents had specially made for their ridiculously large dinners was not nearly filled with a good portion of people missing from the place. Somehow, their dinners still managed to be especially loud, and always fun.
For as long as Catherine could remember, this was how she spent her Sundays. Church in the morning, and family in the afternoon. She hadn’t needed to help in the kitchen, though, so … winning. Cooking under the eagle-eye watch of her grandmother, Cecelia, was fucking unnerving. The woman could tell if someone used even a pinch of too much anything, even from across the damn room.
Catherine had no sooner sat down in the chair she always used—directly across from her parents, and next to her brother and his wife—than her aunts, mother, and grandmother began serving food.
Once the plates were filled, and everyone was seated her grandfather, Antony, said his usual prayer. The moment amen left his lips, utensils scraped plates, and voices came from all directions. Catherine tried to keep up with the conversations between everyone, but it was difficult. Especially when there were at least five different conversations happening between them all.
This was her family, though.
She loved it.
“How is Lucia doing in California?” Antony asked.
Lucian frowned. “Really well.”
“Why are you frowning, then?” Michel asked.
Jordyn—Lucian’s wife—laughed. “Because he misses her terribly.”
“The house is quiet now,” Lucian said.
“I remember that feeling,” her grandmother said from the head of the table. “One day there’s echoes in the hallways and handprints on the windows, and the next, nothing.”
“Empty,” Dante said across from Catherine. “It makes a home feel empty, Ma.”
“But she is doing well?” Catherine’s mother asked.
“A little homesick, maybe,” Jordyn answered, “but I expected that.”
“When is she coming home?” Catherine asked.
“Three weeks for Christmas.”
“That’ll be nice,” her grandfather noted. “At least the little ruckus over the summer with her and that boy has calmed down.”
Catherine cleared her throat, sensing the awkward cloud that floated over the table at her grandfather’s words. Lucia had apparently gotten involved with a boy her parents did not approve of, and some … things happened. Catherine was not the person to judge where boys were concerned. Especially boys that were bad, or a little too wild for their own good.
All she had been told—as Lucia’s parents wanted it kept quiet—was that she headed off to California once they got her home again, and the boy was … well, Catherine didn’t know. Shit, she didn’t even know the guy’s name. She was told not to ask or talk about it.
Lucian brought the attention back to him as he said, “Three weeks for Christmas gives me time to convince her to stay.”
Laughter rumbled from around the table.
Then, attention turned to Catherine.
She almost wished it hadn’t.
“You were late to church today,” Cecelia said.
Catherine shrugged. “Late night, Grandmamma.”
“Oh, why?”
Yikes.
“I was out with a friend,” she settled on saying. “We went to dinner, and then to a club.”
And then back to his place, Catherine added silently.
That’s why she had been late for church because she needed a proper dress. The one she wore to dinner and the club with Cross had not been appropriate at all.
“I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” her grandmother said.
The noise at the table stopped. Catherine did not miss the looks being passed between her uncles and father, not to mention the way Catrina smirked and reached for her wine glass. Even her older cousins quieted, but that didn’t stop Andino and John from shoving food into their mouths. The two men’s gazes darted between Catherine and Dante like they knew exactly what was going on behind the scenes in their family.
She supposed they probably did.
Catherine met her father’s stare from across the table. Dante’s posture and stone-still expression gave her a dozen warnings without saying a thing.
Do not mention his name at this table.
Do not say you’re seeing that man.
Do not.
She could hear exactly what her father was thinking. She didn’t need him to actually verbalize it.
Catherine figured now was as good of a time as ever to make her position clear with her family, and her father. Maybe then, Dante would finally back off.
“Catherine?” Cecelia asked. “Are you seeing someone?”
“Well … we’re trying things out again,” Catherine decided to say after a moment.
“Again.”
“She’s talking about the—”
“Hush, Andino,” Giovanni barked from his seat.
Andino shot his father a glare, and shoved another forkful of potatoes into his mouth, mumbling, “Fine.”
“Cross Donati,” Catherine told her grandmother. “Do you remember him?”
For a second, Cecelia couldn’t hide her surprise. Her gaze widened, and her mouth popped open as her gaze drifted to Catherine’s father, but her grandmother quickly schooled her expression. “Well, yes. I think we all remember that young man.”
Catherine smiled. “Saves me the time of explaining, then.”
“Catherine, can I speak to you for—”
“No,” Catherine interrupted her father. “You cannot.”
“Catty.”
“I’m eating, Daddy.” Catherine waved at their family. “We’re all eating.”
Dante’s expression hardened instantly. “Catherine.”
Without looking up from her plate, Catherine simply said, “I already told you that you don’t have to like it, Daddy. As far as I understand it, you’ve made it quite clear to Cross just how much you don’t like it, actually. I wonder, what happens if the next time someone approaches him, I’m there, too? Might that be … dangerous for me?”
“We’re not discussing that at this table, Catherine.”
She looked up at her father. “We won’t discuss it at all. Yes, I’m dating Cross again … or, we’re attempting something of the sort. No, you don’t get a choice. Stop trying to intimidate him to stay away from me. It won’t work, and it might actually get one of us hurt. Then what, Daddy?”
Dante’s gaze blazed.
Catherine only shrugged, and looked down the table to the rest of her family. “So, that’s that. What else is new? Anyone?”
No one said a thing. Catherine felt awkward as hell, but it had needed to be done.
Michel cleared his throat beside her. “Gabbie and I are expecting.”
Catherine didn’t miss how Gabbie’s head snapped to the side so that she could stare at her husband with wide eyes. Clearly, she had not been expecting him to announce their little secret like that.
Instantly, congratulations lit up the table. Attention was gone from Catherine. Her brother passed her a sly smile like he knew exactly what he had done.
“Thanks,” she mouthed.
Michel nodded.
Sometimes, her brother was a shit.
Right then, he was her savior.
What was family for?
“Catherine, please let me—”
Catherine shrugged out of her father’s hold. She stepped aside as her aunts and uncles came down the hall, and disappeared into the sitting room. Her mother was probably still helping to clean in the kitchen.
“What, Daddy?”
Dante frowned. “I’m sorry, Catty.”
She held her ground, refusing to let his apology soften her. She didn’t entirely know what he was apologizing for, after all. She wasn’t going to just assume.
“For?”
“Making this more difficult than it needs to be,” her father said quietly.
“What is this exactly?”
Dante shook his head. “Catherine.”
“I’m serious. A lot has happened or been said. You couldn’t even let me tell my grandmother that I was seeing Cross without making it obvious that you have a problem.”
“Because I do have problems with it!”
Catherine nodded, and turned away. “Okay, I’m done. I have some studying to—”
“I’ll back off,” Dante said quickly.
She didn’t turn around. “Will you?”
“If that’s what you need.”
“And you’ll keep your opinions to yourself,” she pressed.
Dante blew out a hard breath. “That’s going to be easier said than done.”
“Try.”
“I do not like that man, Catherine.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“I can’t help that, Daddy.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Then let me be that,” Catherine said. “This isn’t hard to figure out, Daddy.”
Dante turned her around so that she faced him. “I don’t want you to be angry with me. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t want you to control my life. I don’t like that.”
He scowled. “I’m not—”
“You are.”
“Protecting you is controlling you?”
“It is when the only thing you’re protecting is some false idea you’ve created in your own head. Your fears are not mine. Maybe this is going to be nothing, or maybe it’ll be something. That’s for me to figure out. Okay?”
Dante pushed a stray wave of Catherine’s hair behind her ear. “Visit us this week, Catherine. Stop ignoring us.”
“You, not Ma.”
“Me, then. Stop ignoring me.”
“It doesn’t feel good when someone you love makes choices that hurt you, does it?”
Dante looked upward with a chuckle. “I deserved that one.”
“I’ll come over.”
“Alone,” her father added. “I mean, I will back off, but … you have to help a bit. So yes, alone.”
“Obviously.”
Catherine considered that a battle won.