The Talk
Cross POV
“Cross, take a walk with me.”
To another teenage boy, those words might have sent him running for the hills. To Cross, it kind of sounded like a challenge. There was probably something wrong with him.
Dante Marcello stood tall and formidable in the kitchen entryway, waiting on Cross. The man’s wife continued her work at the stove like she hadn’t heard a thing.
Catherine’s wide eyes turned on him where they both sat at the table. He pushed up out of his seat, and shot her a smirk. No need for her to worry, after all. Her father wasn’t actually going to do anything to him. Maybe try. Although, even that was unlikely, considering his father knew where he was.
Nobody in the business of the mafia wanted to start a street war over something stupid like a teenage boy dating somebody’s daughter.
Cross peeked at Dante. The man gave him a look before he turned on his heel with a wave for Cross to follow over his shoulder. He didn’t say or do anything else, and he didn’t look back at Cross once as they headed through the hallways of the large home. Complete silence echoed except for their footsteps hitting against hardwood floor. Okay. So maybe this man would start a street war over someone dating Catherine. Cross still held out hope.
What the hell else did he have going for him at the moment? Arrogance was his best friend. Even when that friend did nothing but cause him problems.
Dante navigated the halls of the large home while Cross continued walking behind him, and stared at his back. When they came to the back staircase, Cross expected them to go up a level. He knew that’s where Dante’s office was situated in the house. Instead, Dante went down the stairs.
Cross followed silently.
Finally, Dante spoke once they were down in a cold, gray room that looked like storage. The man opened one door, and waved toward the darkness. “Go on in, Cross, and have a seat.”
“Somebody going to jump out at me or something?”
Dante chuckled. “It’s not the monsters you can’t see that you need to be concerned about, kid.”
All right.
Cross noticed something odd as he passed the door Dante was still holding open for him. The fact the man needed to hold it open or else it looked like it would slam shut was one thing. Like it was heavy as hell.
Also, it had to be at least six inches thick. All steel. Cross blinked, realizing something else.
Soundproof, likely. The stupid part inside his brain that literally didn’t know what the taste of his own fear was shrugged it off. The smaller part of his brain that knew something wasn’t right told him to back away slowly and head upstairs. Dante was behind him. Cross wasn’t going anywhere.
“Take a seat,” Dante repeated.
Cross stared into darkness. “Where?”
“Go in.”
He took a couple of small steps into the room. Behind him, Dante followed and allowed the large, heavy metal door to slam closed behind him. The sound rattled Cross’s bones, for fuck’s sake.
Then, a switch was flipped, and a too-bright, bare bulb overhead lit up the space. Cross blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes to the sudden change, and take in whatever he could about the strange room.
Cement walls stared back at him. No windows. No other doors. No tables, boxes, or other things. Just four cement walls, and two folding chairs set up in the middle of the room. He wasn’t fucking claustrophobic or anything, but the size of the room sure made him feel like he could be after today.
“Sit,” Dante repeated.
Cross shot a look at the man, but did as he was told. Once he was finally seated, Dante moved to take the only other available chair in the room. For a long while, the two simply stared at each other, and said nothing.
Across from Cross, the man crossed his left ankle over his right knee, and offered a smile. Not a warm one, mind you, but a cold smile. Like he had Cross exactly where he wanted him or something.
Dante Marcello was a little infamous in the world of Cosa Nostra. Everywhere Cross went with his father or Wolf, Dante’s name was always said with a great air of respect, or a heavy dose of fear.
Sitting across from Cross like he was, looking like the man did, he could certainly understand why some would have that impression of the Cosa Nostra boss. The thing about Cross, though?
He didn’t show fear. Even when he felt it.
“You know,” Cross said, leaving his statement open and hanging.
Dante looked up from the Rolex watch on his wrist. “What’s that, Cross? Tell me what you know.”
“I was thinking that if you had a gun to sit there and clean, this whole thing would be the biggest cliché. That’s just me, though.”
“That so?”
Cross shrugged. “Kind of.”
“I suppose I could have gotten a gun down here, had I wanted to. There are no guns in my house at the moment, however.”
“No?”
That was surprising. His house was full of hidden, and plainly unhidden, guns. Almost all belonged to his father, for obvious reasons.
“Raid on my house last year,” Dante said. “Another illegal weapon in my house could get me fifteen years behind bars.”
“Oh.”
“Shitty nature of the business, Cross.” Dante waved a finger high, and circled it. “That is why the house is so well protected by men, though, if you wondered about that.”
“Not really.”
But it was good to know. For a long while, Dante eyed him again without saying anything. In a way, it unnerved Cross. He hated being watched like some kind of bug that needed to be destroyed.
“You don’t like me, do you?” Cross asked.
Dante chuckled. “What makes you think that?”
“The fact I’m seeing Catherine, and I have a dick.”
A single eyebrow cocked high from the man in the other chair.
Cross just shrugged again.
“You know, I remember what it was like to be your age,” Dante said quietly. “All pissed off at the world twenty-four seven, finally figuring out what sex was and not knowing how to satisfy it, and acting foolish all the while.”
“Not sure that’s how I feel about anything, actually.”
Not at the moment, anyway. Cross didn’t say that out loud.
“All teenage boys are the same,” Dante replied. “And they all think with the same head. We both know it’s not the one on your shoulders.”
Whatever. Cross glanced around, taking in the strange room again. “We couldn’t have had this conversation somewhere a little less cement-y? Like an office, or something? Pretty sure you could have said the same things to me.”
“Mmm, sure,” Dante said, smiling in that cold way again. “Except this room is the only room in the house with twelve-inch thick concrete walls, and a six-inch thick metal door. No one can hear a thing in here, Cross. You could be standing right outside of the door, and hear nothing inside.”
Dante laughed, and pointed at the wall behind Cross, saying, “And that wall right there? Behind that wall is my wife’s wine cellar. The east wall? A storage room. Useless rooms, really. We don’t use them, and guests certainly aren’t allowed inside them. However, even if they could get inside them, they still wouldn’t hear you screaming in here. Get me?”
Cross swallowed the nerves building in his throat. “Yeah, I got you.”
“Let me make something clear between us, Cross.” Dante folded his arms over his chest, and relaxed in the chair. “I don’t for one second think that my daughter is old enough to be dating anyone, but certainly not a boy like you.”
“What kind of boy am I?”
Dante pursed his lips, and blew out a heavy sigh. “A boy that gets to grow up a little faster than other boys. Fair?”
“Sure.”
“However, my wife thinks Catherine can make her own choices, and so, you are one of those choices.”
“Not such a bad choice, considering.”
Dante hummed under his breath. “That depends on who you ask.”
“Nobody asked—I just said it.”
“You really don’t have an understanding of respect or fear, do you?”
Cross shrugged. “I understand both.”
“Then do you understand how to put them to use? Because now would be a great time to start working on that.”
“I know the only kind of respect that fear breeds is contempt.”
Dante tipped his head to the side. “That so?”
“That’s what my step-father always says.”
“Is that why he raises you with so little rules and boundaries that you don’t understand the concept of respecting him, or giving respect when a man like me asks for it?”
Cross matched Dante’s posture with his arms folded over his chest, and leaned back in the chair. “Why do you assume I don’t respect Calisto?”
“I think his methods of parenting are a little lax, and it has led to a young man that is very exasperating. You, I mean.”
“That’s funny.”
“What is?”
“That you think that,” Cross said, smirking. “I respect my step-father more than anyone. Not quite as much as my ma, but … Italians, you know.”
Dante let out another one of those harsh sighs. “Your father said you had something to ask me, Cross. Go ahead and do so.”
Ah, yeah. The dance.
“So, you can tell me no?” Cross asked.
“You don’t know that’s what I’ll say.”
Cross gestured at the room, and then between them. “I have a pretty good idea.”
“That smart mouth of yours is going to get you killed someday.”
“Calisto says the same thing. I’m still here, though.”
“Shame he hasn’t somehow rid you of the impulse to talk out of turn, yet,” Dante muttered. “Ask me what you wanted, Cross.”
“I thought Catherine might like to go to winter formal with me. If that’s okay with you.”
Dante lifted an eyebrow in a high arch like he was considering Cross’s words. “If you ever touch my daughter without her permission, or take from her what she does not give you, I will strip your bones out of your body one by one in this room. I will do it while Catherine sits upstairs and eats dinner with the rest of her family. When I am done, I will mail pieces of you to your mother and father each day while they search for you. Do you understand me?”
Cross nodded. “Yeah, I hear you.”
“You may ask my daughter to winter formal.” Dante scrubbed his hands together, and added, “While we’re at this, let’s talk about the rules of my house.”
“Which are what?”
“Doors stay open when you are alone with my daughter. Respect for my wife and me is a must. Do not behave foolishly here. Understood?”
“Sure.”
Dante waved a hand as if to tell Cross he was dismissed. Cross almost made it to the door when Dante spoke again.
“Do work on the respect thing, Cross. It’ll be beneficial for you in the long run. Especially in this business.”